Best Dialing Poems
The function of a human hand?
Writing a message, making a bed,
Opening a jar, dialing a phone,
Putting on pantyhose,
Touching the face of a child,
Or a lover.
And in its absence?
Yawning space and phantom pain,
And an oddly-shaped bandage
At the end of Angie’s arm.
PFC Hernandez, home in El Paso,
Watches her family watching her,
Writing awkwardly with her left hand,
Brushing her black wavy hair,
Watching Dr. Phil
Wearing an old gray-green T-shirt
Bearing the faded words
“Proud to be a Marine.”
Gasping and choking,
She wakes from thick, dusty dreams
Of shimmering, endless sand,
Unfamiliar words
Echoing hollow with hatred,
And the feared but half expected
Roar of fiery amber heat,
Breaking the angry stillness,
Searing through the night
And Angela’s right hand.
Warning - Don't read The Raven and Watch Hitchcock on the same night.
Once before my bedtime, nearing, which I dreaded, fazed and fearing,
Stories mother would read me before she closed and locked my bedroom door —
While I washed up in the water, could mom have drawn it any hotter?
Before me swam a rubber duckling, chuckling as my mother shut the door
“‘Tis some water fowl”, I muttered, “which mother bought me from the store.
Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I can place it - the sad night Mother would misplace it;
Or entirely erase it; of her mind remaining nothing more.
I lay in bed, mother tucking, on feathers of mother’s plucking
Time for your book, said mother clucking, clucking as she locked the bedroom door —
I’ll read “Make Way for Ducklings” and then warm milk she began to pour -
all across the bedroom floor.
Assuredly, I felt no sorrow, as mother left me till the morrow
Sighing - buying time – which maybe I could only hope to borrow;
I heard my monstrous mother screaming, or maybe Tippi Hedren streaming
as Hitchcock’s “Birds” was beaming from the TV laying on the floor—
“’Tis just Hitchcock’s “Birds” beaming from the TV laying on the floor” -
This it is and nothing more.”
Inside that book peered at me smiling, a crazed duck that set me dialing
911 and protective services to frantically implore
The feeling in my stomach sinking, “I need a friend”, I was thinking
Staring wildly at this ghastly mallard who chilled me to the core
Then, at once, I saw it, heard it, this grinning duck needn’t chill me to the core
as he said, “I will be your friend forevermore”.
This booth i'm in , you call a body
apparent problems , wiring shoddy
can't get thru all the busy signals
rush of the race , eluding victuals
can't get thru with simple affection
are they harnessed wrong , disconnection
is comprehension a distant voyage
where i'm now speaking a foreign language
is the dark pit of self so deeply entrenched
where thirst for knowledge will never be quenched
long distance calls from this booth i'm in
dialing the right number is where to begin
as long as i remain on the right frequency
at least avoid world's subsequent delinquency.....
Food for thought , all for naught
line is open , if it's sought.........
Met the first time and you blew my mind,
Hopefull you'll dial those numbers
Whenever you need me just come and see me or,
You can just dial those numbers
Talk to me slowly when I need you to console me,
After you dial those numbers
To me you were my baby you never would forsake me,
So we never had a problem with dialing those numbers
The spark was gone we left each other alone and,
Never again dialed those numbers
I see you and I just simply reply
"What happened to those precious numbers"
*PV - Proverbial Verbiage
The Old Rotary
Dialing out…zzzzip…zzzzzzzip…zzzzzzzip
and
zip…zzip…zzzip…zzzzip
and brring…
long distance was not a thing
for children. they could only
ring those within their corridor
ching…ching
money didn’t grow on trees
the grown up made sure
we were wise
or they’d wise up
our behinds
but we didn’t even try
a bit smarter back then
smarting at smaller things
like
eating Mr. McGregor’s produce
throwing
stones at cars
but
we kept our hands
off the old man’s
cookie jar (PV)
rang Grandma
once a year (PV)
It was more fun to dial out
but by then a burglar
tied you up (PV)
They hadn't spoken for over ten years
A father and daughter ~ How could it be?
Perchance they talked telepathically through tears
Was his intuition prophetic?
Would she be empathetic?
He picked up the phone ~ Let's see!
Dialing the number, his blood ran cold
Hesitating, he questioned his goal
What if this call causes sorrow untold?
He trembled, and sighed a deep sigh
The call would be hello again or goodbye--
Forever! ~ He tugged at the pain in his soul...
May 08, 2018
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the following poem was written as part of an online poetry class; responding to the image above
We tuned the dish to static,
listening for God’s cough~
a blip, a hiccup in the cosmic hum.
The night shift drank coffee
thick as engine grease,
the kind that left your tongue
tattooed with bitterness.
We waited…
and still, the stars
bled silence.
You said, Maybe we're dialing
the wrong frequency.
I said, Maybe God’s just shy.
Then the power died.
The dish froze mid-sweep,
like a man catching
his own ghost in the mirror.
We stood there, necks craned,
waiting…hoping…
for the dark to whisper
its secrets to us.
When I was a child I waited for Your call
How could You do this to me
We stood by the phone but You were busy
How could I have thought You heard
The youngness wasn't enough
You were too disconnected to answer
Unaware we dialed You again and again
The others waited too and starved
I believed in Your love
The Omnipotence fragmented
For you Brother
The signal was one ring and I should ring back
But the Power said disconnected
I tried You again but the voice said no
The number you have reached is not in service
So I checked the number and again it said clear
Those tears turned into a river and we saw You sail by
You were needed at the church and the glory
Two children stayed and together was no matter
Dancing we made new games and prayer
Oh Dio
Am older now and the prayer
My brother is gone cause he took a cab
Their was no fare
He doesn't wait now but I still
I hear him in the night
I see him in strangers and glances
Begging You I wait as before
The toys help with those moments and dialing
Your phone rings off the hook
God help us all
Written on June 12, 1995
Updated on April 19, 2012
Gail's Note: Written in the voice of a shopaholic
(the hoarder's first cousin)
Not really me, although I do have some items
that could probably fit into this category.
Useless Products, the Vendor cries
Useless Products, for one and all!
Useless Products, the Vendor sighs
Buy useless products that will line your walls.
Well, I really like my useless products.
Society has taught me to stand quite tall
As I'm dialing every 800 number
To buy the products that line my walls.
Well, I really hate my useless products.
Society has taught me to dread each one.
If I could just stop buying useless products
I'd be able to look through the windows on my walls.
And so the products pile higher and higher
Until my soul is buried alive
And the reasons for buying don't seem to matter
Until my family hears only my cries.
Each day I cry, you may not know,
One day I'm high, the other I'm low,
But willing to become a star,
The walk of hurt wins; leaving a scar.
As the body falls apart,
I stay alive with the pump of my heart,
Voices speak but I cannot see,
Reality sinking in; and worse it will be.
Fragile touch to minds with death,
Lingering on with my strength; my breath.
I take this walk with few around,
The morning brings false hope, false sound.
Brown eyes may be a beauty,
But looking in the mirror, each days a duty.
Stepping stones while faces shrink,
Dialing each number, each link.
I will be close for family is near,
Disease itself gives each though a new fear.
Crackling down few paths I can now choose,
Although, I help out those with less to lose.
Truth is we all have low points,
Reaching to keep our body working; each joints.
Crumble the pieces,
Iron out the creases.
I may be close to womething unreal,
I may seem happy; next to my bed I'll kneel,
Letting God know this is enough,
Not understanding why my path is rough.
People start to come and go,
They each have sympathy;but don't really know,
I keep my head up-but lupus eats away,
Making it hard to push reality at play.
I'm far from this world, but live in it,
Lightening flashes; rooms dark; I sit,
Crashing into the night,
I lay my head to rest; with dreams of sight.
Dear God I been struggling all my life
for the sins I committed I paid the price
learned to live with regrets and sacrifice
da da da da da da da da da da da
I contain unspeakable secrets in the depths of my mind
my eyes have witness the wickedest sickness of mankind
In been conflicted at times
by my on mind confined
implicated in crime and briefly confined
Now I'm a family guy and there much more than worth it
but what if all the beef from my past comes to the surface
that's not what I sweat I got theLord to protect
if the strings get pulled on the devils marionettes
but in the event they approached with the intent of my death
I'd still send shots down the center like I'm dialing collect
always a peaceful cat except for my youth
when I swore that I wore a bullet proof gorilla suit
and in the heat of the streets deepest beefs I found
every shot that came would miss be by a country mile
until that one that came to erase the life of Dwayne
it murder portions of me and the rest if left in pain
in a since he's still here cause his blood flows through my veins
and my faith dictates I can see him again
all though the pain never lessens their are lessons in pain
for what does not kill me gives me strength to gain
Dear God I been struggling all my life
for the sins I committed I paid the price
learned to live with regret and sacrifice
da da da da da da da da da da da
DIALING 911
towering building, dressed in pinstriped suit,
healthy, quietly dying. flying without web,
without wings. an abnormal workday,
smokes in the clouds. explosive wings
have penetrated upper office space.
God gazes out heaven’s window,
holds out his hand, ready to catch
each soul that lands on ashen pavement
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
m
a
n
________________________________________________
Not your last name, not even your age,
You set the scene, I cleared the stage,
And you did give the act of a lifetime,
Twisting matters of the heart, and of the mind,
Telling me lies, never the truth,
Taking advantage of my youth,
How had I been so naive,
To trust in you, truly believe?
Nothing could have prepped me more,
Than the red flags, I did ignore,
Yet still, trusting you as a friend
I was surprised by the un-mentioned,
Your secret secrets left me conflicted,
I questioned why, while left bewildered,
Like a broken record, stuck re-hashing events,
I kept on replaying every single moment,
But If it's all about perception,
I was fond of your deception,
Captivated many times,
In love with your beautiful mind,
I should have tread lightly on your stage of sorts,
With foundation built on the truths you'd contort,
But given, it was all built up on a lie,
I fell quickly, collasped, and wondered why,
Now I'm left feeling angry, manipulated...alone,
And whenever you call, I'm dodging the phone,
But you keep on calling, from private sometimes,
And I'm falling for your trap, just to hear your voice one last time
Then my fingers start dialing your number,
My heart two seconds from a stroke,
A stranger does answer,
and like I've got lung cancer suddenly I choke
"But what of the times we've had",
Forget them and the games you play!
And dare I say it? Yes I'll say it!
"You're going to learn some day"
Sometimes it's easier to blame myself,
Than to compromise my mental health,
Questioning why I'm missing you,
Although your heart just wasn't true,
But I know I fell in love with your deception,
And twisted love was my perception,
The battle I struggled to let go,
Is one my heart will always know,
But my heart shall beat on,
Even though your presence is gone,
I shall live life and I shall laugh,
And I shall love adventure's path,
But when the night is still, and silence surrounds me,
While reminiscing, it's you that I'll see
Deep in my conscience you shall creep,
I'll lose myself, you'll make me weak
And in those moments I guess...
Just let me live with your deception.
What cha thinkin' now?
Keepin' up with the latest thought.
Did you hear the last thing that she said?
Dialing for emotions on a broken down old set.
I could spend forever there in her eyes.
I think together we could sort out the lies.
I'm mezmorized, kind of surprized.
She put on the charm, bypassed my alarm.
Tacked on the back a sweet little prize.
Not her best, she's like the rest.
Gets put to the test.
Three times yours out, but I just got past first.
Not for me to say, I'm dieing of thirst.
Thank you for the soul parade.
That's when they'll say you've got it made.
Post script each line trying to explain.
While basking in the sunshine and rain.
She's a magic taste of honey.
Now she has all her own money.
And the world is showing her a brand new view.
As I sit and wallow in my heart so blue.
Thinking of her, but I don't know what to do.
PS I wrote this listening to Sheryl Crows Globe Sessions CD for the first time.
Cell phone, cell phone! Ring! Ring! Ring!
Voicemail, Speedial, Messaging!
Caller I.D., Internet!
Music, Dialing, Hands-Free set!
Download pictures! Movie clips!
Tell my ears and hear my lips!
Cell phone, cell phone! Boop Bee Doo!
Who's that calling? Oh! It's You!