Posts Tagged 'Poetry'

May 9, 2011

Will Write Poetry for Servers

Two weeks ago, I inadvertently opened the floodgates to a wave of creativity from the SoftLayer Development/Technology organization. Lance came by my office and dropped off a server he was given, and while I would have taken it home, souped it up and done something cool with it in previous years (or decades) in my life, I find myself in more of a "just buy an iMac" camp now.

Rather than endanger the safety of our employees by sending out a "First one to grab the server from my office gets to keep it" email, I sent out more of a challenge: "Write a haiku or limerick stating why you want the server. If I get more than one submission, I’ll pick the best poem. Oh ... And no Nantucket limericks."

I expected one or two entries to come in, but to my surprise, I was greeted with dozens almost immediately:

Windows NT crashed.
I am the Blue Screen of Death.
No one hears your screams.

There was a young man with a lance
Who had three kids to finance
Yes they look and they see
Asking for a PC
But their dad said no not a chance

Linux or Windows
Not up to how the wind blows
The penguin's a go

When you’re whipping your verse into shape
And are caught in a verse-challenged scrape,
The delete key is handy.
Assisted by brandy,
And last, but not least, try escape.

Given the overwhelming initial response, we sweetened the deal a little by adding a second server to the mix (from George). When it came time to judge and announce the winners, I had to do so with my own poem ... which killed me because I hadn't written a poem in years.

My inbox laden
Server Poets bring me pride
Rewards were doubled

There once was a SLayer named Bradley
Whose poem was flattering badly
He said 3BFL
We said ‘Oh, What the Hell’
And gave him a server quite gladly

Among numerous entries we found
That nerdy rhymes and rhymers abound
And so many came forth
Our hand was quite forced
So to the contest more servers were bound

Thus also a Slayer named Hemsell
Was chosen to leave with a morsel
Wash the zeros away
Rip and store CDs today
Make this sad server sing loud and fell

With generous swagger Karidis did add
A prize sure to make the cable co mad
For Scott Thompson’s poem
Was moving and solemn
An Apple TV should not make him sad

And finally the team of Hannon and Chong
Grammar and spelling and format all wrong
But their desire so true
And coding poetry new
Request will be supported so strong

Translation:

Server Winner: Bradley Johnson

One, two, three bar life
Free drink, free shirt, free server
Movie files need home

Server Winner: David Hemsell

CDs sit offline
Once proud server is no more
Fill barren zeros

Apple TV Winner: Scott Thompson

Your free server will
fail to bring much joy to me
I use Macintosh

Additional Computer-Related Award of Some Kind: Chong and Harold

import com.softlayer.server;
public class freeAssetReserver{
   int count = 0;
   String you = “hero”;
   function void vmBoxOursObserver();
}

Congratulations to Bradley and David for winning the servers and to Scott Thompson for walking away with the unadvertised Apple TV! When we were going through the submissions, we couldn't help but reward the submission from Chong and Harold - A coding limerick!

We'll post more of the submissions in the comments on this post, so be sure to scroll down and add your own!

-Duke

December 16, 2007

The Night Before Seattle

‘Twas the night before Seattle and all through the office
people were stirring, even the bosses.
The Dev guys were grinding on code one last time
in hopes all the errors for sure they would find.
 
The servers were powered and cabled and racked
and it took us a while to get them unpacked.
And Mike with his checkbook and Gary his stash
both paid our vendors a whole lot of cash.
 
When out in the parking lot the bass was a thumpin’
I sprang from my chair cuz I knew he was coming.
Over to the window I flew like a flash
pulled down the blinds and made a loud crash.
 
The lights on his truck gave off a strange orange glow
and I could see some weirdness just down below.
When what to my tired overworked eyes did appear
it was a great big guy and a whole lot of beer.
 
With his size and his stature, so calm with a grin
I knew in a moment it really must be him.
Faster and faster he came up the walk
he was hootin and hollerin and popin a top.
 
“Now, Miller! Now, Bud! Now, Coors! and Coors light!
On Corona! on Busch! On Lonestar! and Red Stripe!
To the top of the stairs! To the top of the world!
Drink away! Splash away! Slosh away all!”
 
Like molasses before a new fallen snow
he made his move to the door, be it very slow
Up in the elevator to the top he flew
with all of the beer and some pretzels too.
 
And then in a flash I heard in the hall
a pop and a fizz, did he drop them all?
As I ran down the way in hopes for a beer
I stopped in the hall for I knew he was near.
 
He was dressed in a pimp hat and humming tune
and his clothes were all black with 3 bars on his plume.
A few cases of beer he was trying to hold
and he kept grumbling something about it being cold.
 
His eyes how they stared; his eye brows so slanted
the beer must be heavy; cuz as he walked he panted.
I knew right at that moment; and just had to pause
I knew at that moment I had seen Lancey Clause.
 
He handed out beer with a groan and a scowl
he dropped one on his toe and screamed OOUU!
He spoke not a word but kept to his work
he filled fridges and coolers; with nary a burp.
 
After leaving a trail of beer all around
he went back to the elevator and headed down.
A clank and a thud as he dropped his keys
He went through the door and banged one of his knees.
 
I heard the door slam on his truck down below
and the tunes of the 80’s started to flow.
But I heard him yell as he drove out of sight
"sell a Seattle Server, Sell them all tonight!"

-Skinman

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