Best Texts Poems


13 Texts

“[DELETED] [1:26 AM] i know you’re sleeping and your dreams are probably prettier than my company but i miss you.”
"[DELETED] [1:34 AM] when i close my eyes i just see you how can you sleep, do you see me too?"

"[DELETED] [1:56 AM] i wish i could sleep without you, being awake is a nightmare."

"[DELETED] [2:06 AM] if only i could drown in these blankets, my skin is cold without your touch. "

"[DELETED] [2:27 AM] i have taken a few pills now, your voice is getting louder."

"[DELETED] [2:45 AM] god, my chest is heavy."

"[DELETED] [2:47 AM] the burning in my throat from the shots of vodka i have downed still hurt less than the agony of wanting you. "

"[DELETED] [3:01 AM] please wake up, i need you. "

"[DELETED] [3:51 AM] my hands are shaking, i remember how they used to shake when i kissed you."

"[DELETED] [4:24 AM] are you awake?"

"[DELETED] [4:33 AM] i miss tripping over my words when we spoke and your feet when we danced, but now i am only tripping over myself trying to find where i belong without you."

"[DELETED] [5:12 AM] my vision is getting dizzy but you are still clear in my mind."

"[DELETED] [6:02 AM] remember me?”

— thirteen texts maybe i should’ve sent to you

Lost Feelings

Why would you waste my time
My effort poured on you
I give you all my energy,
But you dont follow through
You stop sending me messages,
leaving me without a clue 
How am I supposed to know
That your feelings are not true


I like you more then a friend 
But I won’t go tell my mum
As soon as she knows of you then
 she thinks that your the one
If you go trippin out on me 
then that’s it now your gone
If your planning on ghosting me
Then just leave now we’re done.
© Rosie Hill  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Stop Texts Stop Wrecks

driving home to you
“I luv u. b home in 5”
     head-on collision


driving and texting
new car for graduation
   “hi guys guess what I'm …”


busy city streets
need to text spouse I'll be late
     pedestrian hit


“can't wait to see you”
crashed into car stopped ahead
     text never sent






7/4/2020

Click image to take you to stoptextsstopwrecks.org
© Mark Toney  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Grand Canyon

In western skies, an eagle soars, at ease.
Below, the curving Colorado flows,
Winding its way through deep and dusty seas
Carving canyon walls steep, through tracts of time.

Twilight to twilight, its myriad moods
Are freshly painted on those ancient walls
Like rich frescos of reds and tans and mauves
In syncopated colors, all sublime.

The eons are borne by water and wind
From sea to land to sea and back again.
Their passage scribed on texts of sand and lime
Layer on layer like pages of time

Forming holy testaments neatly stored
In earthen temples and archives of stone,
With tales to read, as silent oceans roar,
For those with eyes to see and ears to hear.

Texts To Drew

Wat Up

Yep

Nigga what you doing?

Dood I cant see

see what Nigga?

Dood Dood look on TV?!

Who? Bey?!

Mystical Texts

Watching the night unfold 
I hear mystical texts drawing me 
What culture do they come from? 
From diverse cultures!
We need the power of the unseen 
The space between the notes of a song 
The space between the clouds above 
The space between the raindrops 
In the void 
We can prove our love 
our desire to experience all 
Our fervent desire to reach our 
rightful place in the cosmos 
Yes, we need to heed 
the call of the mystical 
  See reality 
as it SHOULD
appear to us


Premium Member A Piece of Writing In Process

Once a poet is done psychically with his or her craft
With the vernacular of his or her masterpieces
It’s the role of the readers to add mentally missing pieces
Parts, ideas, images, a few words and a sophisticated shaft
To mechanize, modernize or upgrade the messages
A poem is, of course, a piece of writing in process
It’s a bubbling melting pot, where many things are amiss
For many logical or purposeful reasons and for excuses
Which are existentially beyond the scope of countless texts
Poets are generally perplexed and write under pretenses or pretexts.

Copyright © March 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.

Premium Member everyone texts now

No one calls me now
My children text
My friends text

Wait
I lie
I get five calls a day
From…..
Scam Likely

I do not answer any of them
Maybe if they texted me
I would reply

Great Texts

I have found out that 
Reading is very utile
So I love to read
and on my own ways 
to reduce stupidity
I keep reading on
how great some texts are!
how lovely some writers are!
my deep thanks to them.

Premium Member Worth 10,000 Texts

Today a baby winked at me
    another hilariously giggled

  Worth at least 10,000 texts
    or - yesterday - a thousand squiggles

Texts To Forget

"Has technology changed our attitude,
By silencing our platitudes 

When we go online,
Surfing the net with accounts to mine

So easy to be mean or criticize,
Hiding behind a name not recognized 

Feelings expressed,
You’d certainly regret

If face,
To face

The internet has changed the way we live, 
With every answer it can give

An amazing resource and tool,
Just don’t use it to look like a fool 

When frustration guides your fingers,
Hold the thought and let it linger

Letting your words cool off,
So there not received too hot

Pausing to rethink can save a friendship, 
For life is all about kinship

And the gratitude of friends,
That our happiness depends

So next time something’s not right,
Pick up the phone and settle the strife 

As a picture is a thousand words,
Let your voice be a soothing cure"

Premium Member Entire Texts Are Given To Me

Woke up with words to a poem
Fully formed, 
Muse was whispering
 final line.
As my eyes popped open.
All but a wisp of this knowing
Disappeared in the ether
Before I could slap water on my face.
Almost totally gone,
Before coffee.
I have no doubt
Entire texts 
Are given to me
By faeries, elves and muses
As I slumber.
I am feeling
So loved.
Thank you,
Spirit Guides.

One Day

Maybe a day will come
That momma will be told 
By the white coated men
We tried our best but failed
And on that day
You'll call and I won't answer
You'll text but there'll be no reply
Then you'll view a friend's status
My photos will be captioned gone 
So soon, we'll forever miss you
And momma will be all tears
Papa will be sobbing silently
Then posters will come out
It's okay not to be okay
But it'll be too late

Just Me and My Texts

As I sit at home
Feeling so alone
I hear a ding
Come across my phone
Just a text message
Another text message
Broken record same song
It's probably just my mom
Wondering when I'm coming home
Or just my brother asking
What's been going on
Why do I need a phone
When I still feel so alone, I’m so alone
It's sad but true I must admit
The only relationship I have
Is with the alphabet
A bunch of letters in a text
Just rearranged a bit
Always the same stories same content
You could even call my phone my Juliet
I look around the room
It's just me and my silhouette
But even he leaves as soon as the sun sets
So then it's back to just me and my texts

Premium Member The Texts Were Horrible

The texts were horrible, vile, and mean.
They were from the kind of person none of us had ever seen.
They were graphic, and horrible, a picture came that was crude.
We all could guess who sent photos of themselves in the nude.
 
We had suspicions, and we had them for quite a while
About these texts, so horribly awful and vile.
We began to congregate, and we whispered about him and his sad little life.
Determined to make sorry and horrible his weirdness, we were mean to his wife.
 
We shunned them unmercifully and put our noses way up high.
We wished them an awful future, one hoped they would die.
We were horrible, and angry, and we became bullies.
Our minds threw them in dungeons, stocks, locks, jail cells and gullies.
 
We were angry and awful for a year and a day.
Confident it was him, not caring what he had to say.
We were the avid, upright accusers, and we did not play.
Many of us were shamed to our core, when we found out today
That it was not him at all, but one of the accusers, a man quiet and meek,
A silent monster, who had riled us, whose forgiveness we did not have to seek.

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