Once in a dream books vanquished Tech.

Hi, everyone I am new to this forum. 
Myself Jen, I would like to post here on the poems that I had written months back, in this most disturbing times I think this poem could add value to the books that we read. 
Please post ur feedback and share your views, thank you. 

In this era of technology, artificial intelligence had captivated lives of people. What has books once the valuable treasures now mean to us. A short piece of work to revive the dream of a solitary romance with books. 

*Once in a dream books vanquished Tech.*

Dawn spilled its charm on my zygomatic,

Cuckoos mastering in the art of symphony.

As roses curtain raised a play to exhibit.

An exotic class to other species of its refreshing power.

Just like Puck’s drizzling magic potion of love,

She is impeccable and boisterous in emanating beauty and love.

A sumptuous phase in time when the scintillating dreams,

Haven’t found solace in the serenity of escapist’s relentlessly charming world.

The wind the cupid to ease my hair and cuddle my body,

To effortlessly doze me of to eternal sleep of vanity.

In the Vanity I find Tech hunting and fishing for victimisation.

AI bombards with the neurons and nerve cells tinkling them as a stimulus,

To re-program it as rejuvenated or what the world would perpetually never,

List is as a refurbished junk collected from a repository of pre-existed treasure.

The wonderland was merry when Earth was filled with its rust when ages.

As pages flew by and shelves comforted them as they piled them,

In Construction of a store house that no divinity would excel.

To spare the wisdom, the imaginary, the facts, the art, the lucid flow,

The stories inextricably woven as history and myth as a perfect solemn blend.

When melancholy was a hyperbole, these sky jets skated on air,

As they travelled and pitched in places ever sought even in infinity.

Hooked to my seat at my house, it immigrated me to exotic lands, islands and countries,

Also to castles and jungles and fairy lands what escapists painted came for true.

Immaculate and irresistible and impeccable as paintings of Picasso and Leonardo da Vinci.

Books are ceaseless treasures not to be documented and meant to be starved without the magical touch of human fingers,

Lack of Intake of words like a harmonious melody by the mind, without the ravishing admiring of the eye and absence of vanquished soul of its pristine wisdom.

But to gradual yet like a symphony’s prettiest wave,

Let machine the weapon be terrorised by books the wave of outrageous Tsunami,

To encapsulate the screens of Tech with its mesh of its bamboo, thy prepondering peace embellishing its shade of white, a touch of victory and truth.

For a fantasy world, a utopia rejuvenates from the exclusive sub conscious mind,

And breathe into life to vanquish and bequeath its legacy back to scratch,

This is not the revolution of the mind of the muse that penned the poetic art.

But it is of a robust revolution that has to be battled to surpass AI by books.

Which the latter was transcended by Artificial Intelligence having wiped off.

The wisdom that sparked creativity and Intelligence by the golden object of papers.

O! soul let not Tech machine succumb individuality and originality and creativity of you,

Cover your blanket with exquisite papers of gold and revive the dreams from meta to physical.

Love 

Jen♥️

This is beautiful Jen Di! It's been penned down real well. Its is sad that in the age of technology people don't bother reading much as before. They even prefer reading in devices but the magic of holding book while getting hooked to it is something else. You have done an amazing work expressing that. Emotions well portrayed.

Looking forward for more work from you. Glad you're back! Do stick around 

Sam

Jen, it's great to see you back.

The poem is written brilliantly, with the emotions and flow, your vocabulary is rich. The main plot is bitter truth and so well explained, digital v/s books, and books are definitely a different treasure and a world. 

Great work👏.

Keep writing more! 

This is soo beautiful hun! Loved it to bits! <3

Awesome Di😊😊 Really nice 

Thanks a lot sweetie 

I am glad u took ur time, to read it and comment. 

Originally posted by: proteeti

This is soo beautiful hun! Loved it to bits! <3

Thanks pro chotti 

I am super glad that I made u feel that way. 

Originally posted by: CarpediemRose

Hi, everyone I am new to this forum. 
Myself Jen, I would like to post here on the poems that I had written months back, in this most disturbing times I think this poem could add value to the books that we read. 
Please post ur feedback and share your views, thank you. 

In this era of technology, artificial intelligence had captivated lives of people. What has books once  the valuable treasures now mean to us. A short piece of work  to revive the dream of a solitary romance with books. 

*Once in a dream books vanquished Tech.*

Dawn spilled its charm on my zygomatic,

Cuckoos mastering in the art of symphony.

As roses curtain raised a play to exhibit.

An exotic class to other species of its refreshing power.

Just like Puck’s drizzling magic potion of love,

She is impeccable and boisterous in emanating beauty and love.

A sumptuous phase in time when the scintillating dreams,

Haven’t found solace in the serenity of escapist’s relentlessly charming world.

The wind the cupid to ease my hair and cuddle my body,

To effortlessly doze me of to eternal sleep of vanity.

In the Vanity I find Tech hunting and fishing for victimisation.

AI bombards with the neurons and nerve cells tinkling them as a stimulus,

To re-program it as rejuvenated or what the world would perpetually never,

List is as a refurbished junk collected from a repository of pre-existed treasure.

The wonderland was merry when Earth was filled with its rust when ages.

As pages flew by and shelves comforted them as they piled them,

In Construction of a store house that no divinity would excel.

To spare the wisdom, the imaginary, the facts, the art, the lucid flow,

The stories inextricably woven as history and myth as a perfect solemn blend.

When melancholy was a hyperbole, these sky jets skated on air,

As they travelled and pitched in places ever sought even in infinity.

Hooked to my seat at my house, it immigrated me to exotic lands, islands and countries,

Also to castles and jungles and fairy lands what escapists painted came for true.

Immaculate and irresistible and impeccable as paintings of Picasso and Leonardo da Vinci.

Books are ceaseless treasures not to be documented and meant to be starved without the magical touch of human fingers,

Lack of Intake of words like a harmonious melody by the mind, without the ravishing admiring of the eye and absence of vanquished soul of its pristine wisdom.

But to gradual yet like a symphony’s prettiest wave,

Let machine the weapon be terrorised by books the wave of outrageous Tsunami,

To encapsulate the screens of Tech with its mesh of its bamboo, thy prepondering peace embellishing its shade of white, a touch of victory and truth.

For a fantasy world, a utopia rejuvenates from the exclusive sub conscious mind,

And breathe into life to vanquish and bequeath its legacy back to scratch,

This is not the revolution of the mind of the muse that penned the poetic art.

But it is of a robust revolution that has to be battled to surpass AI by books.

Which the latter was transcended by Artificial Intelligence having wiped off.

The wisdom that sparked creativity and Intelligence by the golden object of papers.

O! soul let not Tech machine succumb individuality and originality and creativity of you,

Cover your blanket with exquisite papers of gold and revive the dreams from meta to physical.

Love 

Jen♥️

Iagree with your comments, it is really useful for users. Thank you!  

Indulging too much into digital technology is preventing us from holding a book, turn pages one after the other with an intermittent attack of thoughts and smiles, where those days are gone? 

Climbing up the library steps as if going to watch a stage show, searching for good books on shelves with wide eyes, picking up a book carefully as if got a treasure trove.... where those days have gone? 

While reading your poem, Jen, I was almost slipped into my past to recollect that library visits and book selection! 

... a symphony’s prettiest wave,

We don't have to own a physical book to access content anymore. There is a myriad of different ways to read books, but owning a book and keeping it on the shelf in front of us is a special elevated feeling, which we are missing now. All these expressions are there in your poem, treasured that past habit in your longing lines efficiently. Please write more such wonderful poems.

Jen 😍

It feels so good to read from you after a long time. This is a beautiful piece ❤️

Keep Writing 😇