Drone

And now for our (optional!) prompt. Poetry is an ancient art, and one that revisits themes that existed thousands of years ago – love, nature, jealousy. But that doesn’t mean that poets live in a sort of pre-history unaffected by technological advances. Emily Dickinson wrote about trains, and I’m rather charmed by this 1981 poem about the “incredible hair” of actors on television. In a more recent example, Becca Klaver’s “Manifesto of the Lyric Selfie” draws inspiration from the contemporary drive to document everything in digital photographs. Today, we challenge you to write a poem that similarly bridges (whether smoothly or not) the seeming divide between poetry and technological advances.

Hovers, buzzes, hovers
In space between green cliffs
Where no path leads downward
For human feet
And birds have their homes
Amidst the rock cracks and
sea spray

Some men huddle around
The one who controls
A viewport unto the sky
and the void between green cliffs
Records and uploads
Sunny day at Howth

Elsewhere, another called 'drone'
Races toward sea ships
and energy facilities
In terrifying personless
suicide mission