Long Phone call Poems
Long Phone call Poems. Below are the most popular long Phone call by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Phone call poems by poem length and keyword.
The caterwauling was coming from the kitchen
It was loud, and it was ugly, now streaming down the hall.
The birthday girl came running from her bedroom.
Where she had been talking on a rather long phone call.
It is the kitties! She yelled to her friend Marcia.
They are playing the piano and serenading me right now!
Her friend said “Keep them busy, I’ll be right over to see.”
When she arrived, they were singing their hearts out, and how!
Happy birthday to our Mommy! Happy birthday to our girl!
Happy birthday oh wise woman, you are fresh and overdue.
Happy birthday to our Mama. Happy birthday to you with curls.
Happy birthday to our favorite feeder, happy birthday to you!
Her friend came over to take a picture, but they were all sleeping.
Are you sure it was the cats? She asked her birthday girl friend. May.
Oh, yes, she assured her. They were dancing, singing and leaping.
Of course they were sluggish now, snoring the rest of the day away.
Timmy was distraught, he thought that he was late for school
He’d lost his phone, so of the time, he had no clue at all
Teacher stooped and when she stood, she held a dandelion
There’s other things than watches, clocks and phones you can rely on
The weed was past it’s flower and was now a fairy blowball
With this you tell the time or make a wish, but not a phone call
You count each time you blow it and you’ll see what time it is
But if you want to make a wish try blowing it a kiss
Timmy took the weed and said should I be f***ing puffing
Teacher said don’t use that word in future please say ‘chuffing’
Timmy blew the fairy ball just once and it was bare
But he’d left home at eight-fifteen and it’s not far from there
Teacher said that’s just one puff, but did you make a wish
Yes Miss, he said, I wished I knew what chuffing time it is
the darkness and the quiet
both wear white cowboy hats when merged
it takes me back to two gallons of oreo ice cream and my early 30s
things were still cheap then
the music was still good
i lived for that streetlight and a phone call from her
convenience used to me my mistress
she pulled me in with her many a unpredictable gifts
the darkness and the quiet
together they brought about peace and never started a riot
it takes me back to galley kitchen reflections and my favorite microwave oven
things were still affordable then
the music was still enjoyable
i lived for the smile on the face of a full moon and a phone call from her
now here i am....in a pandora box time machine....
looking forward to the residence inn in the center of the time warp
He sang a song of love,
A forever yet to come.
A dream he painted with me as the only flower.
He told a tale,
One even I dared not dream,
Yet he wove it—with me, his one and only queen.
He took a rose and threw it away,
Said he didn’t need it,
For I was far more beautiful beyond measure.
And I believed.
He breathed,
And I blushed.
I fell, Deep into his eyes, oceans of blue.
He turned,
And I leaned,
Capturing his face, his smile, his frown,
Every fragment of him.
He sneezed,
And I oozed with the pain —
His was mine,
And his burdens, I was ready to bear.
Then roses bloomed again,
And a shadow of doubt crept in.
Was this all too good to be true?
So, I waited—
For a phone call?
A letter?
For the inevitable pain?
Seasons passed.
Winter came; he still loved.
Summer followed; his eyes held me the same.
' sigh'
Night fell,
And in his arms, he still held me.
l was scared.
I looked into his eyes,
His perfect silhouette, and l sank.
“A perfect man is always taken,” my mother had said.
So, I took my small bag,
Packed two dresses,
Closed the door.
The dream had to end.
I returned to my cave,
Far in the mountains,
Away from the lies they call love.
I lived there,
Staring at the stone walls,
Tossing, turning in the walls l trusted.
Believing I had left with dignity.
Yet something hollow ached inside,
The emptiness echoed,
loud enough my cave walls crumbled.
I descended the mountain,
And stumbled upon mourners.
They were sending off a man who loved.
A man who loved—
Through life, through death.
They lowered him into the ground.
They sank him into the earth,
And l remembered,
The summers and the winters.
I saw the face,
Of the man who loved till death.
He was handsome.
He had the silhouette of a king.
The king who sang a song,
A song of love.
A forever that was yet to come.
A forever l ran away from.
So, l sank,
And l cried, and regretted, and grieved.
Grieved to death.
And there we lay,
I as the Griever _ and He as the Lover.
2025.5.11
Happy Mothers' day.
Happy Mothers' day to all
Mothers in the world.
It was painfully true to admit,
Not many people received
The luxury of the unconditional,
Kindness, gentle but greatest love
In their world from their mother.
The life's materials, the science and technologies,
Which constantly became available,
Ready to replace most of the human's abilities,
The intimacy contacts and direct communications.
Instead of a home visit,
Greeting with the word "Hello mum, happy Mothers' day",
With a big and warm hug
And a kiss on the cheek,
They have been replaced by a phone call, a text message with moji and fancy A.I. ideas.
And sometimes, a bunch of flowers,
Hand delivered by a stranger.
Since last year, I met two individuals,
They told me they did not
Get along with their mother,
I was hurt and have empathy for their loss.
I would be visiting my mother
Once I was done with Maryborough.
I headed north to walk
On the pebble stone path,
Along Lake Victoria, Princess park,
Then I went south to relax with bats,
Hung upside down on trees,
At the Phillips Gardens.
Back home, early that evening, to my surprise,
To saw someone once I loved.
As I headed back to the bus stop,
In front of his second home,
There was someone sat at the steps,
With his pushed bike leaned against the iron gate,
There he was, sitting in the dark,
To surf on the internet.
Enjoying the wifi provided by his second home.
Ironically, we crossed path again unexpextedly,
We exchanged no words, not even eye contact,
This evening, he was sitting still, until I left.
The last time we met, it was on Thursday, 2025.10.21,
Six months and twenty one day already.
Tonight, he was there indirectly because of his mother.
To avoid being with her and his family,
Who happily and proudly celebrated the important day.
On the contrary, I would not be there
If it was not because of my mother.
I travelled miles away back here
To show my appreciation,
To one important person,
On this significant day.
Once again, Happy Mothers' day to all the mothers in the world.
FLOODED CLOSET
flooded closet,
got your attention?
washer; and dryer
sent to the dungeon, well
the garage. not our fault.
phone call received in ninety-three,
wouldn’t insure us —
the flood, you know…
have you guessed?
previous occupants.
of course a bit of common sense
supported us.
closet contains lots of shelves,
you can climb
to reach
the attic space,
but a few years back
we built a stairway to the stars.
closets filled with candles —
gifts that give and give
and give off light
used once or twice,
and flashlights,
big and small
and an incense burner
from my son —
he’s an odd gift giver.
a few family games for occasions
requiring members who love to play games —
I do! I do!
but most don’t feel the same.
that old floors cluttered,
not with clothes (how
nice that would have been —
oh the convenience!)
but with a vacuum, stoneware,
cleaning supplies.
I wanted to unclutter,
but is it only a reshuffle?
At least the floor —
I might score a clean in that department,
still i must dust, dust
dust, “achooooo…”
i must wash hands many
many many times
through the process
(one time I encountered dust
and broke out in a rash —
scritch, scratch, scratch)
I just might
get this job
done -
stay tuned.
i expect your yawn
and your finger violin,
“my heart bleeds for you.”
it must get done
then i will move on
to my wardrobe...ahem,
won’t go into that.
11/24/2020
Don't bother me with your living
voice on the phone,
I have no time!
Don't come to my house at all,
I have no time.
Don't send me poetry or emails
of more than two sentences,
I have no time.
You see, I have been strictly
eaten as have all other device
crazed nations.
We have morphed into strictly
Facebook/Twitter sensations.
Or, worse, been captured by the
damnable busy bug!
Meaning I have no time for your
human hugs.
Alas, I am sorely aware my end
is near!
That being said, don't you dare
presume I hold you dear.
A phone call, a dinner with you
is not on my agenda.
My cellphone is my beloved
love mate, on my credenza!
To text, only is my thing!
My humanity in the toilet lies.
I prefer Wi FI and electro-magnetic
waves to you.
And now, I have a tin heart.
So you see, I really do not care
for you at all, so best we part!
July 14, 2019
Midnight PST
Note: this is about my disdain for
living through devices. And the
human blockades people set up
to avoid each other.
I do not participate in Facebook
or Twitter.
The Soup has brought humanity
back into dark days.
Appreciate all the sunshine you
bring into my lonely ways.
Thank you. Panagiota xoxo
I am an elementary school counselor.
Everyone else shuns the sixth graders, they are my pals.
They are the ones I know the best, we have the same humor.
We laugh at the same raunchy jokes,
Although some I have to pretend I do not hear.
I like my day, it is so much fun; every day different.
I glide through it, laughing and playing, in a child-like, happy way.
Until I get a phone call or emergency text from Room 145Z.
Laughter stops. My smile runs off and hides in a corner.
I pretend to be sick, running for the bathroom, clutching my mouth.
I have a walkie talkie. I get paged six ways to enlightenment.
My boss comes to find me; she is the principal. I have to go.
Jumping off a cliff into a murder of crows being killed by wolves
would be more desirable.
I open the door and enter.
They are all over the place, screaming and yelling.
Under tables, screeching and snarling. Spitting and kicking.
"Thank you! " the teacher says. "I will be right back."
Six or seven come up to me and tug on my clothes.
I use the kindest softest voice I have ever mustered.
Two run off screaming and crying because I hurt their feelings.
Sixteen run up to tattle on others.
One pulls my hair to see if it is red all the way to the root.
Another throws up on my shirt.
I have been here what, two hours?
I look at the clock.
Where is she?
She comes running back in. "Thank you!" she says. "I really had to go."
I'll say.
She was gone two minutes.
I am terrified of room 145Z, the kindergarten class.
A happy go lucky guy was he,
until the "thread" of bad health set in.
As the many years passed by, there would be times our "silence" would abound.
We would always say I Love You on the phone,
we wanted our "fathomless" love to be heard.
The day the phone call came in was a surprise,
the "breathless" words said your brother is not doing well.
I can still remember the silver "hair" shaping his face,
his deep "dark" "green" eyes looking out into space.
In life some thing’s cannot be fixed,
my "heart" has been broken into a million pieces over this.
He is in the "beautiful" place they call heaven, singing with all the "birds" and angels together.
2/21/2020
(He passed away Nov 2019.)
1 Place Writing Prompt - Ten Words Contest Judged: 3/10/2020 Sponsored by: Dear Heart
Your ghost haunts me
Not in the slamming doors flickering light sense
You haunt me in a way that I welcome
Away where every tiara brings my mind back to you,
Every princess,
every tutu,
every time “bad boys” plays,
every unconventional dance party,
Flees my memories to the last time I saw you.
The bravest, strongest girl I have and ever will meet
The girl who never believed in a period or comma only exclamation points
The girl whose body wasn't as strong as her true heart
The last time I heard her voice
she said excitedly ”we'll do it together, I'll help you”
Neither of us aware she wouldn't show up Monday
Neither aware of the phone call that night
Neither aware those words would echo 13 years later
Unknowing that the pain that broke a young girl's spirit
Would grow with her and linger as she got older
After then everyday living felt like guilt
They said as we enjoy our lives we bring the dead with us so they never truly die
but what gives me the right to keep breathing when a light so bright had to turn off when mine was already dim to begin with ?