<  Carmen Alvarez

Poems

On this page you will find a few poems I've written. Some are serious, but more are lighthearted or humorous.
I'm not very experienced at writing poetry, so I'm not promising anything of quality here :)
If you're looking for any poetry worthy of literary praise, try these links instead:

* Shakespeare's Sonnets
* Poesía del momento

Index

Sonnets

S1 - The hummingbird
S2 - Final ride
S3 - No bise please
S4 - Meta work
S5 - Fate's spectator
S6 - Abandoned together
S7 - The confession
S8 - The child
S9 - The hexahedron

Limericks

L1
L2
L3
L4
L5
L6
L7
L8
L9
L10
L11
L12
L13
L14

Others

Birthday absence

Sonnets

S1 - The hummingbird The city lights diminish one by one. In bed, my mind slows down, my eyelids fall. Just one last thought about what must be done to send this week's installment out to all. Awoken by the sun's warmth on my face, I'm in a field, a distant buzz I hear. While wond'ring if I've ever seen this place, a hummingbird before me does appear. She speaks, “You're not alone, your loss is ours” Behind her, sparrows, doves, and hundreds more. “But o'er his words, our hearts, death has no powers.” The birds all nod, then through the blue sky soar. A beep: the landscape quickly fades away. A beep beep beep begins another day. Paris, 2014/06/27

S2 - Final ride The breeze upon my skin and beads of sweat do cool me from the California sun. While cycling, feels I've nothing left to fret. The world is gone; my bike and I are one. A sudden blow. What's happened? Fade to black. But fade back in, a strange surreal glow. The EMTs attempt to bring me back. From six feet up, I view the scene below. A brighter light than LA's sun in June diverts attention from the panicked scene. The voices dwindle, whisp'ring “it's too soon”. This light is overwhelmingly serene. One final glance toward the world I knew before a new adventure I pursue. Paris, 2014/06/30

S3 - No bise please My outstretched arm seems obvious to me. That, coupled with my movement two steps back. You'd think a handshake's all that there would be, But no! My cheeks, they each receive a muack. I cough, I sneeze, a bit of phlegm I spew. In hopes their fear of sickness will prevail. But no! “I'm not afraid of kissing you.” My kleenex filled with snot to no avail. “Where I'm from, hell, you mustn't let us down. A double double kiss is how we bise.” “Hey, fact alert: this ain't your crappy town. Where I'm from, so you know, it's NONE. So, please.” Bisoutologue, have you advice for me? A Yankee who hates bisous, in Paris. Paris, 2014/12/04

S4 - Meta work Continuous improvement is the trend. Stability's a notion to rescind. Employees never cease to recommend best practices inspired by the wind. A state of constant reevaluation, incessant chats of what we should change next, attempts to finish tasks cut by frustration and never-ending meetings have me vexed. Our burn down chart has but a gentle slope. The backlog though, is growing without bound. More bodies will absorb the work they hope, but “how to scale” discussions now abound. Debates on how to work consume our days, which doesn't help with our release delays. Paris, 2015/01/02

S5 - Fate's Spectator I’ve been deprived of peaceful sleep once more. Alarming visions permeate my dreams. And even in the day I hear the score, reverberating eerily your screams. Your delicate caresses do abate the disconcerting jitter of my thought. But fleeting comfort fades under the weight of this foreboding. What will be your lot? A spectator to fate I shall not be. Another early grave I will refuse. But I have yet to find salvation's key. To guide me, this new mentor shall I choose. If in my quest to save you should I fall, Remember, it was love behind it all. Paris, 2016/02/03

S6 - Abandoned together Through desolate surroundings do I roam. My old companion's left me for a while. I've hope he'll soon return to take me home, and brighten up my spirit with his smile. Now you! Out of the void you have appeared. Your eyes impart a similar lament, of endless sunsets having persevered the loneliness of your abandonment. Together, shall we join in our pursuits? Your solitary nature hesitates. Please, let's unite in searching for our roots. Your pain, my company attenuates. With softening reluctance, you then say "Fine, come with me, but only for today." Paris, 2016/02/18

S7 - The confession Although I've made a solemn choice to leave this history of darkness far behind, concealing who I am brings not reprieve, and cowardly omissions have you blind. When first I saw acceptance in your eyes, believing me to be a decent man, I knew that your respect was based on lies. I must end this deception, if I can. But circumstances hinder each attempt to finally divulge this hidden past. Distractions seem to endlessly preempt my courage, and my time is fading fast. So, stop! And listen now to what I say, or else you'll learn the truth some other way. Paris, 2016/02/23

S8 - The child When we first met, a juvenile you were. A prodigy before us, we beheld. That you would change the world, we did concur, but on the judgment of your fate, we dwelled. About you, apprehensions did abound. The others feared instability. Despite your age, attachments so profound they sensed and felt you'd lack humility. But I insisted that I take you in. My confidence in you would not be shaken. And thus they did allow us to begin our journey, praying I'd not been mistaken. What would have happened, then, if I had heeded the warnings and advice that they had pleaded? Paris, 2016/02/28

S9 - The Hexahedron Remember when you saw me as a riddle? Impossible to solve, yet entertaining. Intrigued for a few minutes, you would fiddle, then change my stickers, winning but by feigning. Eventually some manuals you found. With inefficient steps in combination, diminishing my power to confound, they helped you find my base configuration. The challenge now is memory retention of patterns and associated movements. A race against the clock has your attention, and you've a log to chronicle improvements. In all your eagerness, keep this in mind: please treat me gently, so I stay aligned. Paris, 2016/08/21

Limericks

L1 Misses Carmen, she came from L.A. And in Paris her home made to stay. She adored the croissants And the sexy accents But the bises just scared her away. Paris, 2014/12/02

L2 Carmen bosse sur le code de Libon et la lib de la boîte Belledonne. Ils comprennent tous une chose : faire la bise, même une dose, et elle part en courant vers Bayonne. Paris, 2014/12/02

L3 There once was this Yankee called Carmen, whose manners were somewhat alarmin'. She was a bit jaded, all bisous evaded. “Just handshakes for me!” Not too charmin'. Paris, 2014/12/03

L4 Dame Carmen elle aime pas faire la bise. Tu l'obliges et elle entre en mode crise : “Une poignée de main, ça ne mange pas de pain. Si tu fais un bécot je balise”. Paris, 2014/12/16

L5 Mister bouborgz who grew up in Trappes Was in search of ideas for apps. Inspiration he lacked So he'd overreact, Saying "kill me now, let me collapse." Paris, 2016/02/21

L6 FN Two-One-Eight-Seven is Finn, who decided to never give in to the orders of Snoke. Not that Finn's a good bloke: he just knew the resistance would win. Paris, 2016/03/06

L7 Little Yoda, to Dagobah, sped. From Lord Sidious' empire he fled, until Obi-Wan's spook sent his padawan, Luke. Then a jedi in training he led. Paris, 2016/03/08

L8 An escape pod toward Tatooine houses robots who mustn't be seen. They have plans of the star that brings death from afar. On their mission our destinies lean. Paris, 2016/03/17

L9 RxJava is not for the meek or the simple imperative geek. Those Observables fill your whole codebase until your development life becomes bleak. Paris, 2016/03/31

L10 Miss Carmen, a dev with a swagger, was sometimes a bit of a bragger, but started to stammer and lost all her glamor, when trying to learn about Dagger. Paris, 2016/04/01

L11 "Mother fucker, just program!" he said, and a new revolution he led against buzzwords galore that we coders abhor and the overkill meetings we dread. http://programming-motherfucker.com Paris, 2016/04/01

L12 On a Floréal septidi morn, many sunsets ago, were you born. Shall I wish you the best, or cry "geezer!" in jest? A conundrum that has my mind torn. Paris, 2016/04/27

L13 There once was an agent called Mulder, of baffling scenes a beholder. In spite of Ms. Scully, his name they did sully, and now he e'er looks o'er his shoulder. Paris, 2016/11/28

L14 Mr Boubar who sat on the couch kept on mumbling on like some grouch. When he lost at a game, cried "my god I'm so lame!" then despondently slumped to a slouch. Paris, 2016/12/16

Others

Birthday absence 'Twas today I felt your absence like I hadn't felt before. On this day you'd always call or send an e-mail, but no more. I have all the birthday wishes that you sent the last ten years. As I go through through them today, I feel my eyes fill up with tears. But I'm glad I have this record. It's stored safely in the cloud. In your mails you said you missed me, wished the best, said you were proud. Not just birthday wishes: other mails, from funny to mundane. It's the history of our communication they contain. As my eyes browse all the characters you once typed out to me, I can almost hear your voice, or see you typing every key. So I thank you for these messages, composed in years past. Etched in zeros and in ones, they'll be a memory to last. Paris, 2014/03/02