Digit Poems | Examples

On The Wall - A nod to Omar Khayyam 1048-1131

If it is written, so be it,
but who'll admit
to writing what was writ
when the fan is hit?

And, if, having inscribed,
the finger does proceed,
whose digit was it
when the words were decreed?

Yet, carved in stone,
or etched on glass,
who'll confess to pouring such concrete
when it comes to pass?

Coup de Foudre

They told me, if you’re camping and it’s raining,
to never touch the fabric of the tent
inside: they said it breaks the seal, explaining                           
that any person so improvident                                                  
 
as to commit the camper’s cardinal sin
and not to worry where his digit went                                     
would link the liquids: rain would trickle in.
A lawyer now, I know just what they meant.
 
You have a client, and you feel, you care.                                  
She trusts you with her secrets, which you share.                  
At first you’re formal: gradually, you warm.
Today you notice how she wears her hair:                              
you take her hand, to help her on the stair:                                                         
you’ve touched the canvas – now endure the storm.


again

.

  i'm staring at her
           digit
    that cute one 
  'tatch'd her mitt
that one she favorz
   when i'm spy'n 
where she'z press'n
        
  i'm staring at her
          digit
    'tiz point'd at
       Leviticus 
         19:18

Premium Member Give me the Rhythm

Oh! Guitar, what music hides in thy heart,
That awaits the touch of my soft fingers.
As my digit ends move over thee in quiet,
What melody comes, how it my spirit triggers!

Every chord in thee is fastened so tight.
If one is loose, the notes run dissonant.
With thy rhythm n’ melody, thou hold my heart light.
Wonder what sprite hides in this instrument. 

As I listen to thy finely tuned sounds,
How I am kept long suspended in time.
To what heights then my wearied soul rebounds,
 Making me afloat in celestial rhyme.

Oh music, flood in me to drown my pain.
Can anyone on earth your healing power disdain?

Premium Member Mr McVee

In the Himalayas way up in a bamboo tree
Lived a solitary panda named Mr. McVee
He was a heifer of his species at fourteen pounds
His body was cuddly-looking, and he made few sounds.

He is a red panda, with an expected life span of eight.
Kind of like a cat or a bear, he thinks bamboo tastes great.
He has a black belly and ebony legs, but don’t pet him.
He does not like to be touched, avoids contact, said Jim.

Jim was the guide for the day, who was telling us about the RP.
Ninety-eight percent of red panda’s diet is bamboo, you see.
He sometimes consumes fruit, insects, and bird eggs too.
He has one more digit on his paw than you.

The red panda heard the talk, and waved to them from up high.
He is not friendly down below, but he felt safe bye and bye.
These humans could not get him up here in his joyful bamboo.
Sleeping seventeen hours a day, his naps are nearly never through.


She Quenched our Battle

It has been a long wait,
Longer but reached 
The battle that enemy started 
Was nailed perpendicularly 
With our lovely Princess!

Long, long ago!
A dream was conventional 
To quench the burning stick
Nicknamed national quizzes 
But resources and timing
Kicked away our fantasy 
Though struggled enough
But never fought abundantly

Here came the princess
Erisinta her name 
And said Dad don’t worry!
Leave the battle on me 
No army is needed
I can conquer all alone  
And sent the enemy far
Quash him to death 
And that is what she did
A Princess of the Royal Ng’abokwa 

A single-digit score,
With lower points than all,
Leveled Chibe and Chinga
Our SPS vanity 
This is the real fight,
That my soul dreamed of, 

Come and celebrate,
It is our culture to party,
Start mbeta all the way
The best of our tribe dances
Bigha Chimono bigha!
For if you stop dancing
Stones and sand shall!
Glorify our God,
For he has side our fight 

Don’t forget the rituals   
That bound us with grace
Praise the Almighty! 
For His mercy and blessings 
Have showered our canopy  

Dedication to my Daughter Erica. 27-01-2025

it takes one l'il digit

.
                             "stop
                              wait"
                             in her 
              peplum spaghetti crop top
                                y 
                        daisy dukes
                                y
                           flip flops
                                y
         auburn tressez dancing with thuh
                             wind

                       with one digit
                 hern enraptured mine
                 with hern purty mitt's
                             digit

                     i know'd it when 
                     i see'd she
                     i 
             were gonna
                    sin

the dress i'd wear

.
 
                       for 
         Jehovah God Almighty
              'tiz mine vision
 
                i in the white 
                 diaphanous 
                  long gown 
      with mine bare it's 'neath
                     whilst
               my head bent 
                   awaiting 
                       His 
                   Massive 
                      Digit 
               to lift my chin 
                 and forgive 
                   mine sin

The Mirage

The river Life is nothing but a glib tunnel,
Except for the dazzling water, it is just a disastrous canal.
Except for any untamed misery,
It would only be an adversary.

Except for an acute pied piper,
This river would be an unalike well-giver.
The fragile memories spring up in the corridor,
In which nobody can hope for the undisclosed Advisor.

It is just a storehouse of harassment,
The well-giver is just a warped embodiment.
To bid in the farewell is only a colossal audacity,
To sacrifice your psyche is nothing but a callous mendacity.

The perpetual night is the name of an idiot,
Nothing can last for an everlasting period,
Nobody can live long without their deeds,
In the end, I want to confront my haughty demeanour and its mistreatments.

This river is only a four-digit number,
It does not wait for any illusory diver.
It does not cost more than a voyage,
It is no more than a mirage.

Global Entry

We bought our Global Entry cards
In pre-pandemic days,
Believing they would ease our travel
In some helpful ways.

But Covid hit soon after
So those cards were never used,
Yet when our trips resumed
Our pre-check status was refused.  

The US airlines never gave
An explanation why,
But we kept trying every time
We purchased seats to fly.

Today, though, on Air Canada,
An agent made a catch -
My boarding pass and entry card
Were not a perfect match.

It seems there are 9 digit codes
(2 sets!) on every card
And entering the wrong one 
On a form was not that hard.

The problem solved, we got new passes
And were on our way,
With pre-check status never given
By the USA.

Zero Value

I liked this little story more than your expectation. To explain it, we knew that zero means nothing. In fact, in mathematical philosophy, zero has a high important value. For example, without the zero, many of the advanced technology we see and use (PC is a clear example) could not be achieved. Computers do not understand a single letter, but human do. Basically computers recognize a letter as (000001110000) and another one as (10001110) where 0 or 1 here are closed or open of an electric circle.  In mathematical economics, in equations, zero means a lot! I will end this comment by writing that zero in term of money is better than negative (debt) digit. In other word, the statement of your account in the bank when it showing zero is better than showing (- 1000).

a zero value
make your mind very wider
new understanding

MARKS

Marks, Marks, Marks
Haunting me around like a group of sharks
A 2 or 3-digit number
that my parents think will decide whether I'll become a doctor or a plumber
For me my marks are decent
But for my parents, they are horrifying and unpleasant
My marks will decide whether my house will be a flower bed
or a coffin made for people who are about to be dead
My marks will decide whether there will be flowers in the temple or graveyard
So to survive STUDY HARD


                                                              - B. Charan

Premium Member Barter has precedence

Barter of goods was before gold or paper before electronic
Transfers of the digit inflaters..How are dots and numbers
Balanced and checked? How many hyphens will i need for
A floor? How many dots to create a strong door? or a ship
Or a boat? Could i have one in gold? I've heard there are Some of timber?
Or is that concept too old? If I had ten cows, and some
Goats i could swap.? I would gather some fish, trade some out keep some back, fry some dry some
Trade some others, at the market on a table.' This way of
Enabling life to progress, predates any laws or even Legaleese, that creates quite a mess' the need of commoditys will allways be there.' It won't make any difference if you've blue or blond hair.' You still thrive with
Commerce, all the better if skills, are encouraged within
A community not so focused on ills.' It was there from the
Earliest knowledge of man, in fact they still trade commoditys i beleive, thats how things still stand' its before laws established, and its today, and beyond! drive
Your cattle to the market, trade your goods its still on.!

Premium Member After Hours Stroll

Midnight  boom town  streets have this allure
imagining an uncanny venture
eavesdrop veil surround but dark as coal
how I love my after hours stroll

Secret worlds unfold their impish plot
mesmerised entanglement a tiered whatnot
black crush velvet  sky we must extol 
how I love my after hours stroll

Gilt  fantasies that  float across each lane way
fluorescent  gremlin from some ghostly  parking bay
gust on salt ice pier might buttonhole
how I love my after hours  stroll

Snow clad mall whistler gaffe prone 
while wandering the ink hue urban zone
a chapter lift and snatch from begging bowl
how I love my after hours stroll

Traffic signals  stellar  stoic stance
heartbeat of nocturnal moonlight dance
frozen digit signage reeks of twinkling North Pole
how I love my after hours stroll

viperous woo

.

         It's 
     that digit
      the one
     up softly
 'gainst her lips
 with the sound
      passing
 each It's sides

       "shhh"

   And behind
         It's

      expose

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