I Suppose I Should Be Sorry

This is a poem I wrote when Steve Jobs passed away.  Whilst I was sorry that the world had lost a creative & business genius, I was a bit put out by the way his faithful followers managed to get his demise out of all proportion to its real significance.

iSuppose

iSuppose i should be sorry,

About the passing of an iCon,

But i didn’t know the man,

When all is said and done. 

My eyes are an eyesore (iSore) from crying,

Eyeball (iBall) my eyes out,

Eyelash (iLash) myself with grief,

And in my gloom,

Mournful iTunes never end.

iPad -- about the room,

iPhone -- my friend.

iMac -- i say to him,

Can this be right?

Steve’s no longer with us,

Passed from our eyesight (iSight).

While on earth,

He did us proud,

He’ll be up there now,

On his iCloud. 

Is there an App for Grief?

I search the Net,

It should be free,

But it’s not, i’ll bet. 

iShuffle my life around,

i try to carry on.

iPod the peas,

Eyepatch (iPatch) things up,

iTouch my knees,

Eyewash (iWash) myself,

Eye-witness (iWitness) the tears of others.

His death has been an eye-opener (iOpener) for me,

There’s been a lot of eye-wash (iWash) said.

The headlines have been eye-catching (iCatching).

All of this for just one man dead.

Now here’s a thought that’s deep:

One man dies and millions weep.

Yet in Africa millions die,

And still no-one seems to cry.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2011