Iphone Poems | Examples

God's Will

Kyrielle Sonnet


They search, phones held tightly, spellbound
moments parting in the background
phone screens, maybe the newest pill
Time won’t stand still, is this God’s will?

They’re seeking this life’s cutting-edge 
is it their hearts and souls they’ll pledge?
from where they stand, life’s all downhill
Time won’t stand still, is this God’s will?

They know that life moves by, passing
finger on the screen, amassing
dreams lost, is life at a standstill?
Time won’t stand still, is this God’s will?

They search, phones held tightly, spellbound
Time won’t stand still, is this God’s will?

iPhone Dropped on its Head

I was thinking of a bummer -
do iPhones get any dumber
every time you drop 'em?
Nowadays, I'm a ding-a-ling.
I really depend on that thing.
My brain don't work, my phone don't ring -
I wish I could swap 'em.

Query for Deary

One kiss and I fall like
A green leaf on the bed
Your lullaby lips 
Go to my head 
I find my body tingles
At just the thought of 
Any kind of interaction with you
Real or imagined
So much so I wonder if it 
Will be harder to deal with reality
Should we ever meet
Than it is to live in fantasy
Ears hug your baritone voice
When you call like a conductor 
I have no choice but follow
Your lead the music we create
From love letters via text
iPhones FaceTime we make
A fantasy world where we 
Are together despite distance
I close my eyes and listen
To my red heart beat for you
Musically yours beats for me too
So why don’t we cross thousands
Of miles to share reality
Versus an internet smile

Anti-Poem Iphone Maniacs

iPhone Maniacs

crankshaft tendencies secure a brace of sly meatballs
truth daggers entice the worm girls with petite pastas
creature lilacs uproot themselves for pink dippity-do gels
white nylon ghost legs roam outer space in latex leotards
metacarpal syringes find porous outcries in the gloaming 
crankshaft tendencies welcome the tilted exonerations
iPhone maniacs fondle frothing bananas mindlessly now
demon spiders ooze inside the crawlspaces wanting meat
cross-eyed priestesses suck on wax candles in the vestibule 
black-robed choirs sing hangover music to the dribbling 
rock music annihilations played by stoned dudes in shades
temples and taverns shake as the truth daggers hit earth
now the worm girls are dancing with the iPhone maniacs

The New Iphone With Face Blurrying App

because you need it
watch the shares drop
Owners of iphone
-Prince Andrew-
-Donald Trump-
-Boris Johnston-
-Adolph Hitler-okay i made this one up but you know he would have
maybe they have made one that stops you sweating
brrrrrmmmm  cchhhhhhhhhhhh ( a drum roll)

The Art of a Dying Man

The Art of a Dying Man
David J Walker

The dam was broken and 
The man trying to save it 
Worked alone

As we watched 
through the lens 
of an iPhone 

hoping to capture 
the moment of collapse 

As the names of hero’s
have changed on plaques
of a media enriched society

Where watchers become stars 
in the constellation of
the unintended casts of extras

Hoping for name recognition
in obscured credits as the 
handheld video ends

I am the fireman
I am the cop

I am an opportunistic 
photographer
The chronicler of 
Interesting misery
  
I can be the medic with 
A bandage for your 
Sucking wounds 

If you sing a death rattle 
I will shine the light of 

My iPhone to help you find 
The way home

I will document your parting
Where it will be viewed 
In the Wake of social media storm
Entitled the Art of a Dying Man

Love On An Iphone

I have a picture of you
It's on my new iPhone
And our favorite song
Play's on the ring tone
There's a message from you
So I can hear your voice
I love the video we made
While at la playa del sol

Soft and easy
The sun sat behind clouds
And disappeared 
And the ocean sang the night has come
It's here
Hand in hand we walked
Footprints
Shifting in the sand
Rolling stardust to the shore
The tempting wind whispered
"Love her some more"
So we kissed

I scroll the pictures 
Of you on my iPhone
The Vanilla essence of your skin remains 
In every breath I hold
And in each swipe I make
Reminds me of the Tropical Passion that we made

I have a picture of you on my iPhone

Thumb Poetry

Writing a poem with only my thumbs
Opposable digits are A-number one
Will autocorrect fix the words I write wrong?
Not all words are lucky as I coax them along
My phone keyboard clicking as I’m typing the words
Now back to correct my fast-thumb-spelling turds

How long can I go with these poor thumbs of mine?
Most likely for hours, they’re typing sublime-ly
For they are the only thing in-shape on me
Covid has made my waist grow large times three!

For my thumbs are as sleek as an antelope
Compared to my waist, more a cantaloupe
The rhyme meter changed like an isotope
A variant bridge like a song I wrote

But back to the meter my thumbs they did strive
Worried I might go along for a drive
Now I will end this, my thumb-written poem
And hope you enjoyed it since it isn’t a tome


--All my writings are at mraymus.medium.com

We Need a New God

It does not matter how much I pray
God does not give me the time of day
That "omnipotent" snot
Did not try to save squat
When my iPhone drowned yesterday!

Flying Kites In Modern Days

I got these old habits that I’m trying to kill
Like kick off the ills
Of these psychotropic pills
Cause I’m someone else
They turned me into someone else

What you say, it’ll all come back
Whether love or it’s hate
both strange like an asylum
toxic waste
Yea that negatives a toxic waste

people want to get rich
Then it happens too fast
See a lack in your *****,
While you whipping that jag

What you mean? 
What you mean?
Got corona home safe
Tryna search out the truth 
But it’s still a cold case

Can we all chill out with the wars
Instead of guns in their faces
Pencils and erasers
they’re gone today
There won't be no bombs away

we’re all locked on the screen, I phone
Bet if I tried to take it
it’ll get your heart racing
locked in chains
We’re just modern slaves

It don’t matter what they say
You aint done kid
They aint got half your heart
So I know you gone win
 
Said,
It don’t matter what they say
You aint done kid
They aint got half your heart
So I know you gone win

My Youngest Son Was Dropping My Iphone

My youngest son was dropping my iPhone.
Unfortunately, not just once, but almost twice.
If someone interested- take the mishap and own.
He is three years, with fair hair and brightly brown eyes.

A Sonnet To the Iphone

I shoot up above the silent, spellbound crowd,
Gaping down at their bright hands with glassy eyes,
Then I pierce the satin clouds that dress the skies,
And drift in space toward that eternal shroud,
The vast field of stars that angels tilled and plowed.
How the crowd tilts down their heads with gazeless eyes,
Staring tongue-tied at handheld luminous lies!
Yet I, head high in the clouds, remain unbowed.
 
But what have I found, while the world wastes away?
Some seek lowly lights, others shoot for the stars;
Some keep as pets the very pests they should slay,
Others spread their wings and apace fly away;
To light up the pages of our dim memoirs, 
Let us wake up and roar, we must seize the day.

Lamentations of a Lost Iphone

Pushed on by memory
By the bus, wrong stop, buttons touched too much
Left behind, the mind and all connections
Locked on display, light only, the tower knows
To triangulate your position beep beep to passengers

Unlike soap in the mouth as a punishment
Iphone alone
There is no cure for stupidity
Not purified or purged

Say something wrong my primal ones
Numbers don't really reason before speaking
Held on the line motionless on some remote seat
Wireless now, laughing at lost signals, lost activity

Speak to me from your darkness my lost love
I can not breath without you
Let alone phone home
Beep beep come back to me my little monkey
I'll never change your name or number

Age of Consent

The Age of Consent was once ten
To ensure there were virgins for men
But young girls love candy
Which cads have kept handy
Since Mary of Magdalene

Now the Age of Consent is 16
With virgins nowhere to be seen
On an iPhone screen
Obscene is routine
As girls document coming clean

With no age tattoo to impress
Her age is anyone's guess
Though less than oblesse
To avoid redress
Just film her head nodding, "Yes"!

Santas Iphone

Santa’s new “iPhone”, 
Filled with Christmas gift orders;
Oops, it won’t work now!

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