Best Dialling Poems
With a one rupee coin having tiny hole
to talk endlessly throughout the day
to reach to you ,fulfill my goal
shower love talks you can say.
To talk endlessly throughout the day
I tied a string through that hole
shower love talks you can say
bringing closer our thirsty souls.
I tied a string through that hole
to make phone calls without a pay
bringing closer our thirsty souls
from public booths on my way.
To make phone calls without a pay
inserted the coin holding the string
from public booths on my way
dialling your number tring,tring,tring!
inserted the coin holding the string
to pull it out after the call
dialling your number tring,tring tring
soon this trick was picked by all.
To pull it out after the call
so that I could call you again
soon this trick was picked by all
to make a phone call now and then.
So that I could call you again
to reach to you,fulfill my goal
to make a phone call now and then
with a one rupee coin having tiny hole.
===============000=================
*The one rupee Indian coin doesn't have any hole;
people used to make one to make phone calls from
public booths without paying by the above method.
Tattarrattat
…amazing how things change over time, from a simple knock at someone’s door, smoke signals, walking & serenading to the Pony Express, and now Cell Phones…what next, microchip implants?
Tattarrattat of sounds making universal calling to chitchat
Habitat denned of words hovering upon stagnate doormat
Dialling friends like Anna and Christine while vanity filing
Smiling Hannah throughout texts and hashtags reconciling
Taking selfies selfish as snapping shots peep after faking
Breaking stats texting thru speeding with fingers aching
Money making Facebook and Twitter toot sucking honey
Funny folks frolicking in wow of gibberish words chummy
Implanting microchiping radar loves of illusions enchanting
Ranting and deleveled amidst abysses of misunderstanding
Evaporating thoughts deified through fanatic futurists dating
Frustrating still mom and dad tired of escaping callwaiting.
...this may also be read backwards
1.Tattarrattat – the longest palindrome in the Oxford English Dictionary, coined by James Joyce in Ulysses for a knock on the door
2.denned – past tense of to den, meaning to live in a den
3.deleveled – past tense and past participle of "delevel", to demote or be demoted to a lower level.
4.deified – past tense of "to deify", meaning to consider as a god
...originally I was going to enter this in Joseph May's Palindrome contest...but at the last second, I noticed the theme was about the Seasons...dah!...hello Brian lol
A Palindrome is a word or phrase which reads the same backwards as forwards, such as level, or deed, or "never odd or even".
Sept.24.2018
END SEPTEMBER 2018 STANDARD
,ANY FORM,ANY THEME
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
N/A for contest
"Dream Bug"
Hour glass
rainbows sparkling
crystal grainy rapids
sliding intrepidly through life’s fingers
their coloured sands speak in tones
they are obtuse and vapid
like snowflakes they fall
confetti on my hands
Writing you
between there
and here again
a feckless court jester
fearless sometimes
walking handstands
painting portraits
in pedantic rhyme
then a page stained,
you're thumb-licked and turning
metaphors gliding ghosting
a snail trail planchette
words miss spelled
they are moulting
like white feathers from cooing doves
we are back in grades of one
singled out on school parade
while the band plays on
we are all caught
like grounded gefilte fish in class
when the saints
go marching in
we’re stopped
for covert mingling
In the office a Nosferatu principal
ignores the grief
behind his two spectacles
two sets of hands are requested straight
knuckles down and held out
the bamboo cane
coaxed no passing
secrets out,
automata face
scream time put on delay
the clock to midnight
on his crypt's wall, hidden
strikes still a braille mind
doesn't once drop the ball
it smiles ruthfully
dialling up the forbidden
chemistry of tears,
a juxtoposition
from the internal well
My opal sky suspended
heaving dreams falling slow mo
through foggy clouds
are breathed in like lavender rain
antiseptic are all
our polished stories
rehearsed repetitively
then delayed and side courted
tennis left hand
lucid inarticulate
backhanded
Love all
candy hearted
is a fresh game
pulled swiftly
from a side pocket
refuting singing flutes
whistling and caressed
by a tongue flirtatiously wetting lips
a regular, pulsating change of pitch
a romantic vibrato
recalled
he calls me
a witch
Scent of a woman
once je t'adore
now her true essence leaking
their personalities mirror switched
bloodied and cut
pieces of peace
stolen by a foolish matador
she’s holding open the exit door
Dream Bug
walks across a
marked and sullied page
lines bleeding right
Melting
dissolved
to the far corner
lid sealed
in a glass jar
left-brained
Dream Bug
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Thud, skid, shriek... bash!
Subject to a crash,
From audience to casualty,
Paying a futile penalty,
This unexpected political revolt,
Instantaneously uprises the search for whom to fault,
Alerting of authorities and people through news,
Help on its way as chaos builds-up and fear brews,
Shock and panic spreads, time becomes endless,
Dialling with not answer, agitated and relentless,
The seconds stretch out, unbearably grasping the phone,
Engulfed in sheer isolating fear- on the edge of the unknown,
Reality begins to turn gory and glim,
In an instant from civilian to victim,
Wishing you had stayed home instead,
As you're filtered from those that lay dead,
Contemplating distraught, confusion and regret,
This pain, shock and fear- you will never forget,
As you shed your first post-traumatic cry,
They say you're 'lucky' you didn't die,
Still amidst the debris several phones ring continuously,
Police scurry, pulling back family members searching hopelessly,
Behind the line hysterical fathers, wives, siblings... awaiting,
Whilst most mourn, pointlessly politicians are left debating...
Outbound calling is a given task.
Log in only in one website,he asked.
But this addiction don't know when would last.
this affecting my job,Oh no!
Am I losing my mind?
Dialling,communicating onshore.
Dealling and mocking by American people.
Do I have an option?
Chill ..I still need to go on.
Winter season, I met this one.
Thought it was love at first sight,
Feelings ponder,desires intensified.
I've been cheating when Boss's not around.
just to satisfy what my flesh demands.
I'm not a certified poet,
Not as good as anyone,
I just want to express my thoughts.
Make everything plain and fun.
More dramas,series of love.
This isn't about my life....
Afraid so much that this might end.
I could no longer use my hands.
No access at all ,eight hours a day.
Poetry soup,is this going to end?
Poems I used to made during work time,
I'll be missed,'cos at home its not welcome.
Signing off,Is it really an answer.
No way!..Break my bones,I'm gonna stand still.
Make this life a li'l more exciting,
Log in when the cat is not watching.
How is it am hearing my name in my head?
Come to me, come to me, come to me
This is consistent am getting disturbed
Could it be the angels are calling me for a lunch in heaven?
Could it be am getting paranoid when not on steroid?
Checking very closely; I found something else.
There are voices in my head that don't understand me
They keep re-dialling as I refuse to pick their call.
Sat where it’s sat since chauffeured in gently
No driver now for the rusty old Bentley
Its tyres and battery equally flat
A rusted up den for an old ally cat
Manicured lawns, bindweed infested
No gardener now as hardship suggested
No tourist, no fan, nobody interested
Intruder detection no longer tested
Inside, a rocking chair, no longer plush
Creaks like the bones of the wizened old lush
Who stares at the walls of the now peeling flock
And pays little heed to the un-ticking clock
Newspaper clippings lay where they fell
Sometimes she grins at the stories they tell
But just as though they were still pinned to the wall
She picks up not one, she remembers them all
They’d urged her to dance, they’d begged her to sing
But all of a sudden the phone wouldn't ring
Now cataracts sully the stars In her eyes
And stubbornness stifles her arthritic cries
The phone once rang often, to her recollection
But now she just listens to check the connection
No point in a phone when you're no longer known
And the sound of alone... is a dialling tone
Dancing for Hollywood bought her the world
But one willing bint and her stardom unfurled
A word of advice for which she will vouch
You’re born but you die on a man’s casting couch
And as she sits there in her old rocking chair
With her makeup undone and her unkempt hair
Now she succumbs to Hollywood’s ills
As she rocks back and forth with some gin and some pills.
We were perfect together
Inseparable
Night and day
Two blackened petals of the amaranth
Wizened, rotted, but eternal
A white angel, a waxwork skeleton
Gliding up the road
Towards the wedding knell
And by the altar
Before the eyes of God
A letter, with your scrawled apology across it.
Rushing to the phone now
Dialling your number with spinster’s fingers
I cry
Don’t leave me
“The number you are calling no longer exists”
Then I remember
You faded long ago
The dress has yellowed
The clocks have stopped
The feast has rotted
I’m talking to myself.
A limerick reply to Jan Allison's limerick 'super series' on a 'Bi-polar Bear'
~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Haven't checked where in the world your from
But should I be dialling 999, or 991
For murder is a serious crime
Many years spent doing time
But I am hoping it's just all some limerick fun
The burglar's came tonight
Lot's of lies has been said
They screamed ' turn on the light'
But I wanted to go to bed.
They heard the money was here
And all of it, they want
But I had no inch of fear
So I gave them a silent response.
They drew out a gun and fired it
Then, came a loud crashing
I thought someone got hit
But it was only the camera's flashing.
Turning it off, they said
They were here for something
Looking up I too said
I was about to do something.
They got angry and upset
And look ready to kill
They gave me thousand threat
All for the money they wanted to steal.
The lies has been told
I must save my neck
My feet are getting cold
I told them, the house, they can check.
They must have searched for history
But there was nothing there
I knew they had uncovered the mystery
But still they didn't care.
Over, they look on with hate
The lies were too strong
I prayed with little faith
This burglar's see their wrong.
They gave me little chance
As they used and abused
But I had plans
While they drank my homemade juice.
Am happy, they got served
Rohypnol (roofies) was for me
They got what they deserved
Now they are where I should be.
I go over the telephone
Dialling 911 on
I brought them home
To take over the fun.
Two hours later
The prison I was leaving
But the burglar's weren't getting better
They were still down, sleeping.
No point in a phone when you're no longer known
And the sound of alone... is a dialling tone
6 October 2021 Extracted from ‘Cast Aside’
For Contest: Your Best Rhyming Couplet 3
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
What Fun!
I worked in a small call centre once
The boss was fed up of being bossed about
So left his job and set up his own call centre
He became his own boss and my boss
Gave me a job dialling varied accounts
In the US UK and Australia
Including tech support surveys sales
Plus education and B2B accounts
I learnt so much in my year with him
It was different and challenging
Each day was different even fun
I was gal agents cry I saw guys battle
We work drank sang ate danced
In my first year of BPO work
I’d do it all again oh what fun!