Long Mobiles Poems
Long Mobiles Poems. Below are the most popular long Mobiles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mobiles poems by poem length and keyword.
The nineteen 80's
Early eighties was my sweet teens,
as I could see every thing in greens,
College canteen and vegetable patties,
Oh my youthful eighties !
Remember those days of bunking classes,
late night parties and clinking of glasses,
Old movies and handsome heroes,
Exam days and highly probable zeroes,
Writing letters was then an art,
No mobiles, postages also not that smart,
Interactions and lot of clinical acumen,
Computer machines were beyond imagine,
Lots of time for pondering and retrospection,
Busy now the life is, not even introspection ??
Written March 7th, 2015
For contest "Decades" by Kelly Deschler
Remember the days
Remember the days before mobiles,
Laptops and Internet not born,
Made up our own entertainment,
Today, our youngsters would scorn.
Without Xbox or Play station gaming,
What would our children, do for their fun?
I played out, all kinds of weather,
Cricket on the Rec’, Tag, or bicycle run.
Today’s TV has 3 hundred channels,
Watch Sky Movies and Netflix all day.
Our Television had only three stations,
Black & White, with a box on to pay.
Tablets with Wi-Fi and Kindle on fire,
Facebook & Twitter, texting by phone.
Our talking was done person to person,
Not something done, all on your own.
Perhaps lives today are much better,
New generations evolve, this won’t change.
Spare a thought though, for a time long ago,
If you could go back, life would seem strange
The maw of war opens signs
the sepulcher of promise
denotes a rose bleeding all
those who suppose in time
battle axes and saviors
bite the head of the snake
drooling gibberish of bravery
drained batteries on mobiles
an old man pants and drools
a childhood lost at sea (infernos rage in crime)
inspired by those who wish to wash you
feel the scrape of skin (calls and a bartering nun soothes)
holy mary, mother may eye
-s close the world shuts to black
clouds know rain and snow
weakness (blood-drained brain)
the secret seethes in an angels’ scream
(a breath in a dream) butterflies moths
mothers and whores invoke the power
(squeezed-heart-seconds) cringed dolls
curled in tattered repose (symphonies, politicians,
the ratio is severed the knowledge puked in dejavu’s)…
tight marionettes dance through my neck
a tornado pulls calm through my chest,
heavy, heaving, heaven, hell,
bells toll churches kick graves in
--boots thunder through hidden halls—
of wood vampires milking judgment cracked in stone…
Two poetic hydrangea mobiles ~ happy or sad, take your pick
~
Weeping hydrangeas spill
sapphire tears falling,
drenching grey scale gardens
suspended, free flowing
a mobile of distractions
on tiny threads scattered
above clouded daydreams
Worded floating silent streams,
spinning slowly, creating phrases
on whirlwind petals,
browned edges frame
whispered wonderings
sans answers
upon somber breezes
of yesterday’s questions
or
A cappella Hydrangeas
send harmonic petals floating
upon melodic wind chime breezes,
suspended soft concerto clouds
on love sonnet strings
tuned to a spring day,
as flowering symphonies,
acoustic mobiles of emotion
bloom within a garden
of daffodils dreams
in unison with lyrical
compositions of nature’s
enchanting song
~
There was a man whom fortune really blessed;
All things were brought to him at his behest.
Of cars he had not one but a whole fleet,
A spectacle when they were on the street.
This rich man’s cars were source of his great pride;
When he drove by, men looked at him green-eyed.
He had the fastest, smoothest, newest wheels--
They truly were the king of all mobiles.
There was another man who lived in town,
Who got the worst of fickle fortune’s frown.
He worked so hard to stay in this life’s game,
And dreamed to have just one car to his name.
As the rich man’s car collection increased;
The other poor man’s troubles never ceased;
So he grew old and dreamed when day was done
Of a Cadillac but he never had one.
The rich man died later as all men do--
And brought to the grave in a hearse not new:
It had been used so many times before
To bear the bodies, whether rich or poor.
Alas, the poor man also did expire!
Freed at last from too long in the mire.
His body was borne by a hearse that’s black--
The town’s newest elegant Cadillac.
March 26, 2023
Fairview, Baguio City
Calmoruus calamity
Calm, in feather doona encumbered,
slept soundly.
Even the stars twinkled
in hushed, squelched, muted tones.
Silence reigned in solemnity, in peace.
All of a sudden
the deafening din
of cacophonic hard rock shrill
rattled the rafters,
jolted the sleepers
starkly to upright awake.
I ran into the living room
with hands covering my ears.
The wee little 'Nest' device,
throbbing there next to the
rumbling pulsing speakers
was hallucinating, tripping.
Its lights doing a late-night give.
The telly was flashing
bright disco light shows and tells.
I shouted to Siri with all my might
"Off, All OFF, Cancel, Reset, Exit, F-Off",
But all to no avail.
How could dear Siri,
nested there so snugly, hear me
above the infernal din?
I grabbed the remote but it too
was away with the pixies, pixelating.
with its LED's flashing, winking a beat in tune.
In desperation I dragged
the speaker's electrical cables
right outta the wall.
Ah! silence reigned again.
But then, then, then,
the neighbors lights all around lit up
like a Christmas tree on steroids.
The irate banging on doors began,
shouting and screaming.
"Turn it Off", "Turn it Off", "Stop"
The phone and all the mobiles
around the house rang.
The alarm went off.
The kids were screaming
We alone, all blown,
must atone, condone,
Siri's slip up.
Five words on infinity and beyond
Dancing with life the jester wise fool majestic clown
plays tricks illusions wisdom at the court of living madness
dissolves uncertainty’s conclusions spins and cycles
on fines lines suspended from seeming polar opposites
complements and contradictions vital motions making sense
Meaning travels back and fort meanders flows upstream
when up and down top bottom rock ponds ponder and seduce
irritate the journey man entice incite narrate the travel log
roundabouts cul-de-sacs and destinations far away and near from
stagnant rivers swashing swirling sourcing dreams surprise completion
Cascades water falls riptides whirlpools of emotion thinking
pooled resources burdens unimaginable darkness light
traverse transcend transitional transmission and transgressions
enrich deplete conquer and submit tranquillity torrential questions
tentative and ever changing answers trampolines free fall esprit
Ascending and descending signs and symbols conscience
consciousness of solar lunar bedlam sanity and solitude
rest and perpetuate the soul fluctuate the seeking wanderer
who can at times accept that final terminal starting points construct
and reconfigure miraculous mobiles circles loops and circuits to reflect
The games the trickster plays the conjurer who plies his trade
who runs her trials and tribulations on the quest for truth
and truths and individual perceptions clarity incomplete
enlightenment for that final and initial endgame peaceful voyage
posit comprise encompass the infinity of eternal being and beyond
Five words used: Clown, Journey, Whirlpool, Soul, Endgame
28th May
The obscenely convincing,
have arrived in their stealth mobiles.
We are made to unmake-belief,
to regurgitate Saran wrapped words.
Wide-eyed we watch the spreading creep
of windowless thought-factories.
Druids rage for the loss of their tongues.
Magic dragons puff obesely
and cannot now climb their spines.
Combative batmen tussle
with spitting cats.
It all makes no-sense, and yet
we know the fantasy is built
on self-destructing concrete,
we see now how red lipstick
smothers us with a smirk
in the dark.
Too late to run for cover.
Even as we slumber
the mother of all bombs
gives birth to yet more
pre-packaged fictions.
If the pathways and parklands
of my childhood could talk
they would speak of time crawling
before it could walk.
and when clouds hung like mobiles
on strings from the sky
I would run with my arms out
pretending to fly.
I would 'land' near the steep bank
that looked down on the track
to watch trains pass there daily
before then heading back.
in that long, lost, hot summer
when I never knew time
I would scan the horizon
through the haze on the line.
the dots that grew bigger
would soon thunder past
- they were moments I lived for
that flew by so fast.
but as clouds clouded over
that magic had gone
and as the last train rolled past me
I sensed time had moved on.
BEFORE THE TECHNOLOGY TOOK OVER.
How beautiful were those days
When tech had not touched us
To spoil our minds and hearts
When life was simple and plain
And ambitions too were not very rosy.
When poetry music and art
Use to inspire us to touch the sky
On the wings of our imagination
As then our dreams too were simple
And love use to empower our hearts
To swim across any deep ocean
While singing the songs of love.
When television had not snatched
Our leisure hours from everyone of us
And we use to dance and sing
On the call of heart touching tunes.
When mobiles had not spoiled our minds
While snatching from us,
Our peace of mind
When computers were a remote cry
And internet had not ruined the purity of minds.
When as children we use to enjoy the life
While playing the Gend Tadi* (throw balls)
Or even the Gilli Danda*
As they all use to fill us with a serene joy
Which the new technology has snatched
From our kids and younger generations.
How beautiful were those days
When we use to enjoy the company
Of human minds and hearts
Unlike the numerous appliances
Which we keep close to our hearts
instead of love, music and friendship.
The new generation would never know
The beauty of those precious joyous moments
Which used to embrace our hearts
And were the result of love and affection
Which always come from non tech things.
Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpir India 29th Oct. 2016
Inspired poem from a Photo published by Julia Ward on face book.
* Indian village simple games which are played with the help of a rubber ball and two wooden made Gilli two side conical small rod and Danda ( a little bigger rod).