Poem 772 – Cyberbarn!

It was only the size of a postage stamp,
a pixelated blur that came and went
with sound that didn’t match the picture,
but it was a kind of magic back then.

Transported to your Surrey garden,
six-hundred thousand strangers streamed
down phone lines crossing continents
into this tiny buffering barn.

We held our breath and squeezed into
that distant doorway, willed the image
to appear until its spluttering
sounds and colours burst to life.

In awe we cheered distorted sounds,
squinting to make you out across
the many miles that lay between us,
clapping, we hoped, in unison.

Could we be hyperlinked? Connected
through our screens? It seemed surreal.
But now HD, the wonder’s leeched
become mundane and yesterday.

I’ve been working on a painfully slow internet connection today. This reminded me of watching Roger Taylor’s record-breaking concert ‘Live at the Cyberbarn’ on dial up internet. How quickly things have changed!
(See: https://www.rogertaylor.info/facts-and-trivia/accolades/the-guinness-book-of-records/)
(25.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 467 – Enforced Intermission

For one afternoon
we had no internet.
The world didn’t end,
at least, not in real life.

No doubt the fires raged
on social media as
celebrities were cancelled,
politicians vilified,
and wild views justified.

Football pundits were stilled,
pop-up adverts burst,
and the only cookies crunched
had chocolate chips – no trolls
were fed today, just me.

Maybe Artificial
Intelligence took my place,
an algorithm wore
my face. I’d like to think
you’d spot the difference.

Our telephone
is still not working.
The silence lingers.
Oh what bliss…

Today we swapped broadband providers, and for one wonderful afternoon we were cut off.
(27.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash

Hear me read today’s poem