Back in high school, a friend in the computer club wrote a poem about an oyster who defeated King Bore (the presumed God of Snow and Winter). In a sudden flash of inspiration, I blatantly stole the idea and wrote my own.

It turned out something like this.

Once upon a time, a colony there was
Of oysters, humbly admiring their cause
Deeply they lived in mid-ocean hot
Thus happy they were, and warm a lot.

But those times were gone and forgotten
The warmth had vanished, and the sunlight was rotten.
Storms of winter blew over waters iced
And the colony was all terrorized.

“This curse must be broken”, the leader then said
The oysters agreed, ’cause soon they’d be dead.
Then an oyster stepped forth, screaming “Coldness no more!
I’ll myself be the cause of the death of King Bore!”

His axe on his side, and filled up with anger
He bravely set out on his journey of danger.
The wind tore his face, threw snow in his eyes
“To h*** with the snow”, he shouted, “make way for the wise!”

Alas, if only wise he’d been, and not so irate
He’d have watched for those who’d wait
Thus captured he was, and imprisoned as well
Thrown behind bars, where rats yet dwell!

But bars of iron can’t stop an oyster that good
He’d sworn to kill, and believe me, he was in such mood!
He hewed back his axe, and with one mighty stroke
He shattered the bars, and the iron lock he broke!

Through winding passages and tombs he ran
Finding his way through the cells, like only oysters can.
Before long, he stood by the entrance great
To the mighty throne, where King Bore would wait.

He kicked the doors open, vindictive as few
Only to see King Bore, releasing the curse anew!
With sinister laughs to the oyster he turned
Showing grinning teeth, and eyes that burned.

No time to spill, the oyster ran in hurrying pace
And buried his axe deep in the Kings dastardly face.
Blood drizzled as the evil God cried
And left the poor corpse he’d occupied.

Far over hills and fields the mighty King flew
Crying aloud as fear of oysters grew.
Joining the fleeing soul were winter and ice
And left the earth in a choir of cries.

Never again have we heard of King Bore
Seemingly lost in cold space’s core.
And from that day, we all love our saint
The hero of oysters, defeating winter faint.”

Nika tunga bete wola
Dopi lamunga aki nola
Sa wele patima, ahima te
A naki tonga walu me.

A sina wati do katunga ne
A sina wati pim milunga me.
Ha kata son thanima ikosai
Mita wa patima, ahimanai.

Sa akita hawane, mi thak
Tabena watasi anima pak
Karoosha me sawane wele no
Ha misa ne, ei tonga meke so.

I accidentally wrote this poem while translating texts to German:

In stoltzen reihen stehen, mit Blick auf höchstem Traum
Und danach vorwärts, einfach schlagen: Brauchen Lebensraum!
Zum Aktion läuft unser Heer, Soldaten schnell mit Mut
Vorwärts, Männer! Vorwärts, Panzer! Voll mit rechtem Wut!
    Eins, zwei, drei, vier!
    Wir marschieren hier!
    Eins, zwei, drei, vier!
    Attackieren hier!
Und Lebensraum wird unseres, mit Feuersturm und Kampf
Bis Feind entsteht, und schlagt zurück mit Tod und Dampf.

Vielleicht… Unser Traum war nicht so hoch und gut
All unser’ Männer sind verloren, mit all ihr stoltzen Mut
Feuersturm wird Russensturm, all kampf vorbei
Millionen hab’ gestorben, mit grausam Todesschrei
    Jetzt eins, zwei, drei, vier;
    Unser Land aufbauen
    Eins, zwei, drei, vier;
    Kein Führer mehr vertrauen
Gibt’s noch zu knien, mit reuig Geduld
Wir bitten, vergib uns unsere Schuld.

I have absolutely no guarantee that the German is correct (grammatically or ideomatically), but it sounds OK when I read it.

I’ve probably studied too much World War II.

THE FAIRY IN THE WEST came walking by the shore
A robe of woven moonlight strains she wore
She quietly walked in mists of dawn
With gentle steps like woodlands’ fawn
Singing seafarer’s songs of ancient lore.

THE FAIRY IN THE WEST caught my silent gaze
And heard the songs and trumps of my hearts’ praise
Smiling, she beckoned me nearby
“Come with me”, she said; I could not defy
Her melodious voice, and eyes for me ablaze.

THE FAIRY IN THE WEST walked side by side with me
Over cliffs and streams and meadows by the sea
But through the veil of loving theme
She slowly faded in my dream
And I awoke and knew, it cannot be.

I keep her in my heart’s locked treasure chest
Where from her blushing smiles my soul is blessed
Whom once held dear, now forever more
By fading picture I adore
My fairest lady, my fairy in the west.

I wrote this poem many years ago. I thought I might post it here.

In a dark and gloomy dungeon
Racked by storms and thunder
A valiant server stood on guard
As lightning ripped the night asunder.
It stood there lonesome and forlorn
Working quietly in the freezing cold
But not a tear was seen
On its faithful color screen
This server had a heart of gold.

In its core a dignified processor worked
Although old, still bravely faithful
And though its software wasn’t new
Its owners still were very grateful.
It flawlessly performed, both day and night
It ticked so quietly, so gracefully and bright
A thousand users everywhere
Put the server’s idle time on hold
But no one knew the server’s heart
Yes, this server had a heart of gold.

Deep down in this server’s brittle chips
A stable, very stable kernel ran.
And through thick cables proceeding forth
It quietly communicated on the WAN.
Hundreds of transactions were processed
On the company’s intra-network site.
But the only evidence of work there was
Was a little light that gently flickered in the night.

And although many years had passed
And newer systems came and went
And elaborate technologies passed by
ODBC, DCOM, Windows and Lucent
Still they just failed and failed and failed
And came nowhere near this server’s unique mold
Of faithful trust and tender hope
Buried in this server’s gentle heart of gold.
Yes, this server had been working quite a while
And if it could be said it had a mind
Anyone who looked inside would find
That splendid willingness to “walk the extra mile”.

Then, one day, a strategic decision was made.
“Windows is the future. Old IBMs are not.”
So this server was sadly carried away
And replaced with something that was “hot”.
And the damp computer place was changed
Into nice, air-conditioned halls
With carpets, supervising systems
And thin fiber cables lined the walls.
And in the old computer’s place now there sat
An NT 5.0, spinning like a cat.

But soon enough, something happened
Users called and gleefully complained
Connections lost, memory faults all over
And a general confidence that waned.
Computers crashed, and deals weren’t met
And executives and computer guys began to fret.
Previously trusting users collapsed and cried
As their screens shone brightly blue
With exception faults and many, many GPFs…
It was a horrid nightmare now come true.

In the meantime, this old server sat
Now abandoned, so silent and forlorn.
Its kernel didn’t work. No lights were on.
It couldn’t even mourn.
The letters IBM, once bright and shining
And the cover, once so neat, with silver lining
From all its work so badly torn.
It now simply occupied the tiny space
Between a dead screen and an old computer case.

But then, as its tiny little chips gave up all hope
It finally was remembered.
An angry group of software engineers
Brought the NT system, now dismembered.
They threw the stupid thing against the wall
And took the old computer through the hall.
And accompanied by the staff’s wild cheer
On the old screen there appeared a little tear.
And as it was plugged in again,
Its systems flared to life once more
The BIOS booted, and the kernel started up
The old processes spread through its trusty core.

Then everything was back to normal.
Everything ran well again.
And all throughout the place, executives agreed
That new technology is just in vain.
That trusted systems should not be replaced,
Once it worked, it continually kept administrators amazed.
And deep down, in that old dungeon, now so bright
That used to be forgotten and so cold
There worked a valiant server,
And that server had a heart of gold.

I accidentally wrote this while taking the train home from Stenungsund today:

Pete, Pat, Joe and Matt
Worked on some Delphi code
On a TreeView branch they sat
But couldn’t find a node.

Up spoke Matt and Joe
Explained, Items must be nil
Pete and Pat said “No,
It’s allocated still.”

Pete and Pat then found
A pointer that was weak
Joe and Matt, they looked around
Fixed a major memory leak.

Pete, Pat, Joe and Matt
Worked on some Delphi code
On a TreeView branch they sat
And Items[0] was a TTreeNode.