A warning from history

Wordsworth sees wild daffodils

To add his poetic ills

There’s no network in the hills

He’s distracted and depressed

His bundle cannot be refreshed

His golden thoughts go unexpressed

Afternoon in Camden town

Sylvia Plath is feeling down

She’s still in her dressing gown
Softly, she begins to cry

‘How can I without wi-fi
express myself in poetry?’

Says Shakespeare to his friend, Marlowe

‘My play is doomed, this Mac’s too slow

I’m giving up the drama bro.’
Kit Marlowe answers, ‘Let me guess
you must be on the new O/S.
You’ve just lost all your preferences.’

In Bristol, Thomas Chatterton
Craved the latest Apple phone
Instead, he bought a cheaper clone
Even poets need their bread
Languishing at home in bed
That mobile failed him: now he’s dead

Because his bitrate was too slow
The writer Edgar Allen Poe
Had no access to video
The author lost the thrills he craved
His speed slowed down the more he raved
His Gothic juices atrophied

Dickens was a natural ham
He fell in love with Instagram
He messaged to his friends, ‘I am
Scrapping novels, life I sweet
I’m sitting down at three to eat
Then I'll send another Tweet.’