Long Telephone Poems
Long Telephone Poems. Below are the most popular long Telephone by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Telephone poems by poem length and keyword.
"I love you"
These are the three ripe words that
I wanted to whisper in your ears.
So, I
Fixed a date
You came
We met
We spoke
But I couldn't propose:
Though tattooed on the tip of my tongue,
at my dismay it refrained to flow out.
Then,
I packed all my feelings and emotions in a box
with a love letter clinched to it
and laid it on your desk.
Looking at the hourglass
Counted the time.
Zealously anticipating
for your arrival
But,
Unfortunately
you were on sick leave.
Poor me
Carried the box
ran and hopped into a taxi.
Impatiently sitting,
throughout the ride
yearning to meet you..
After reaching the destination
Carelessly forgetting the box,
restlessly I jumped down
Rushed to your flat
Found your name plate beside the door
Pressed on the calling bell
Faced your maid
With a fine clarification
I stepped inside the hall
Not finding you
Confused I stood.
In a while,
Got to know
that you have been shifted
to hospital;
Not knowing the address
and the exact location
I stumbled
Place to place..
In search of you
With a wrong information.
Cash had melted;
Looking my wallet
I sat on the street
gaping at your photo,
that..I had stolen
from your locker.
Hit suddenly an idea..
Thought of calling you
But,
In a hurry had left my
mobile on my table;
Recalling your number
I went to a telephone Booth
I tried and tried and tried..
With many failed attempts
I just heard the recorded voice
which repeatedly said:
"your call is not reachable"
My eye lids were twitching
prophesying something awful is to happen.
The clouds were shadowed by darkness;
And I returned back home
with a huge sigh;
Found my pillow
Embraced ,
Cried my heart out,
Lay insomniac,
whole night
Thinking
Of YOU
I stay awake
Worrying,
What might have happened to you..!
The next day morning,
I found newspaper
Headlines said:
"Airplane crashed due to turbulence"
Strange was to know..
Your name typed too..
under the missing passenger list.
Why such a shocking news ?!
Why the hell did he board the flight
all in sudden with no clue?
Myself wriggled
On the floor..
Soul paralyzed
"Losing him"
~The Untold love~
The one who capriciously
got away from me
in a very
short span
of time.
3-7-2020
Second place in the contest.
Note:The one that got away poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Silent One.
Suicidal Ideation March 30th, 2022 linkedin...
to mein kampf insync with mine body dysmorphia
After reading articles
published within April 4/11 2022
of The Nation
I challenged the efficacy
taking prescription medication
categorized as SSRIs
and/or SNRIs.
Unpleasant side effects
such as earth shaking dreams
and/or especially hefty weight gain
linkedin with former
comprising my daily cocktail
of approved prescription medication
courtesy nurse practitioner.
Deliberation about courting death rooted
throughout mine psyche
fueling sinister chortle
at least since bout with anorexia nervosa,
but... maybe ginned blood,
sans umbilical cord transfused in utero aortal,
though long since recovered, the intractable,
haunting specter, sans grim reaper
intertwining within every fiber of this mortal
rooted, grounded deep, and branched out
into each nook and cranny portal.
Said notion provoked,
when made painfully aware
youngest daughter (aged twenty three)
plagued with similar thoughts,
damn genetics did maliciously engineer
clutching telephone while
seated at edge of chair
did apologetically, despairingly,
grievously... did air
pestilential, penitential, plenipotential... scare
re: distraction and understandable fear,
she might unwittingly plunge
into hopeless abysmal despair
falling prey into irrevocable
deathly hallows lair,
though kudos for her
from me, this sole Harris heir
to communicate, (albeit
hesitantly) into mine ear
suddenly wishing thy
Shayna Punim to be near,
but residing (about three hour drive
southeast of Portland, Oregon)
with my kid sister, attentive to welfare,
a sibling whose persona
doth show tender loving care
and concern, this papa
felt reassured there
would be every action taken
with sixth sense to beware
lest progeny exhibits
pointedly obvious lurching career
dramatic slide in tandem
with Old Rotten Gotham
into behavioral sink
emergency measures sibling
immediately would commandeer,
hence somewhat relieved thee dear
beloved progeny receptive to hear,
this dada expressed his unconditional love,
and grateful psychological intervention
offspring boldly did declare
indicative professional help volunteer
really asserted necessary to stave off
how dice throw of fate unfair
to said lass, whose demise,
would abruptly kill this sonneteer!
For many years I have realized that our hearts are very deceptive and unreliable. I cannot imagine how many times my heart has let me down and exposed the dark and negative aspects of it. Please permit me to share just one experience with you.
Thumbing through some old material a few days ago, I came across something that I experienced over 40 years ago and more than 2000 miles away. When I read the notes which had been in my possession for more than 35 years, my soul was enriched because I was sharing about the need for dedicating our lives to God which often demands that we take the initiative to say, "I'm Sorry", not only to God but also to fellow humans, even if we think that we are right.
On January 2, 1983, I referred to an encounter I had with a nurse in or about 1975 in Memphis, Tn. Now, 40 plus years later, I remember being in Memphis, but I don't even remember such an encounter. Had I not recorded the incident, I would not be speaking of it today. My notes reveal that a point was being made about changing our minds and taking the initiative to apologize. My notes also revealed that I was indignant toward the nurse, after which I left the scene and was heading home. Somewhere between that nurse and my home, The Holy Spirit convicted me of my actions and attitude.
Again, presently, I do not remember what really happened, but not only was I convicted by The Holy Spirit, I was compelled by Him to find a public telephone. Before I reached home, I telephoned the nurse and apologized for my behavior.
God knows every detail of what happened that day in Memphis, and I suspect if shown a video of my behavior, I would be embarrassed, to say the least, and perhaps surprised by the anger released from my heart. For many a year, we have heard it said, "Follow your heart". Technically, I do not follow my heart, but I lead my heart. And but for the grace of God, the cleansing blood of Christ, and the compelling forces of The Holy Spirit, I would be forever lost.
02162019PoSpMTFB
She’s the type of girl who will make you hold your breath ‘till your head explodes
She’s the type of girl who will never pick up on her cellular telephone
I saw her Wednesday watched her walk by
I call her Thursday to no reply
Then I tried on Friday would you be mine
I got no response I’m done wasting time
This chick thinks I’m stupid she must be crazy
Every part of her body is amazing
My jaw gets weak and my mouth goes lazy
I’m done trying to reach her is this hasty
Then On Monday to my surprise
She called me back and she replied
You think you’re so smart so realize
To be my man there’s compromise
So let’s get together and if you make the right impression
I will show you what love is and teach you a new dimension
So grab your note book make room for a life lesson
I’m a tender lover who needs all of your affection
She’s the type of girl who will make you hold your breath ‘till your head explodes
She’s the type of girl who will never pick up on her cellular telephone
Listen to me because I’m willing to be
The best thing you’ve ever received
So try to conceive try to believe
Every thing I say is every thing I mean
You think you’re so bad you think that you’re queen
When all you do is sit there your attitude screams
You need attention that’s why you called me
I’m not that foolish these eyes they truly see
I think you’re obnoxious oh so irritating
Your soul is toxic as well as degrading
So talk your garbage your looks they are fading
To hold my heart hostage is complicated
Like you said lets get together I hope you bring a personality
Welcome to my reality all in all you are a fallacy
A true walking beauty a beast undoubtedly
Not just a plastic princess lacking individuality
She’s the type of girl who will make you hold your breath ‘till your head explodes
She’s the type of girl who will never pick up on her cellular telephone
I don’t need this I hope that you know I mean it
I would get between it but I would never eat it
You are misleading your outward features fleeting
That is why I am fleeing because you are being
A bitter little chick that gets every thing she’s needing
Unfortunately I’m conceding this conversations bleeding
Me dry that’s why this here guy is saying goodbye
So, so long I wish you all the best long life and all the rest.
****!!!…(expletive)
I’m just playing lets do this again some time.
Breaking into abandoned psychiactric centers isn’t as fun as it seems.
Oh, some nights have I had.
I don’t feel too well.
I just need to let everything pour out. To come out onto the screen and paper and wall and floor and everywhere I
can transfer it to.
Once again I am sitting here alone while my roommates have all gone out to drink. Drink. Drink. College. College.
Are my children going to be disappointed to hear I wasn’t the party girl? Will they be sad that I don’t have repulsive
stories of vomiting and one night stands? Why do we do this?
Is that it? To tell our kids - to create a person - to create a personality - to construct a mask.These masks are not
colourful or flashy or expensive. These masks are plain white plaster. Whitewashed wisdom. Everyone wears this
mask. No defining characteristics. You can’t really tell if the person next to you is your closest friend or a complete
stranger
Here I sit with my eyes closed. This entire time. I did all those things and pushed myself further and further into a
sedated state that I can hardly remember.
Suffering is the best thing for an artist. Every artist was an addict. An addict of some sort. Some sort. Some sort of an
addict. Maybe that’s what I need - maybe that’s why I still do this - maybe that’s why I stay home when everyone isout
having a “good ol’ college time.”
Not a recluse. I swear.
He can’t hear me but I can hear the sludge of sounds though the telephone. I’m sitting up so as not to let my thoughts
become sluggish although they do such a thing on their own. My entire body has been injected with a cloud. It is
floating through every extremity, every vein, every cell. I lay limp and wonder how it’s possible to even do this. To
function at all.
My stomach feels empty but I know what it holds. The imagine in my mind of my insides housing some bodily fluid
and a plethora of dissolving pills. Plethora may be an understatement. Dissolving and fizzing and melting and the
thought of that the thought of that the thought of that... that makes me sick.
Dissolving in cold stagnant water. Sitting sedating. Satisfied, thouhg? I don’t know how I got here. I’ve been sitting
here the entire time but what happened between when I first took seat and this very moment.
All of you. Take off your masks.
Although I greatly loved socializing, I really enjoyed being alone,
Like ebony evenings of magic, with no ringing of the telephone.
Since my young childhood, I had been, an introverted extrovert,
Like one with eyes to azure skies, for solitary sun's extra burst!
I loved my work as a museum tour guide, as blossoms love rain,
And offish Mars loves twirling alone, in the red days of his fame.
Yet, in leisure hours I was often alone, like a full, alienated moon,
Or stunning, vibrant rainbows, that won't be amassing very soon.
Friends oft invited me to parties, and sometimes I would accept,
As sun is seen coaxing roses, from the beds where winter's slept.
I lived in the house of quiet starlight, each of them roving alone,
Like solitary, jade grasshoppers, when green grass is overgrown.
My nearest neighbor was my best friend, and we were like family,
Ofttimes together, laughing steadily, in the days of golden vanity.
Pleasant summer was in high spirits, with a whistling in the trees,
And a continuous, merry humming, from hives of the honeybees.
One day, I labored in my garden, while marigold blooms sang sun;
And I saw a lone woodpecker tapping, getting his own work done.
It was not the first time I'd seen one, and they were always solo,
Like a total eclipse of the glorious sun, making of him a no-show.
Then I saw a pink hummingbird, flying backward, and upside down,
Reveling in aloof, open air dining, out on the quaint sunshiny town.
This brought to mind adorable koalas, living out serene lives alone,
Like a dramatic, lone shooting star, heading out to zones unknown.
Later I saw a pretty emerald butterfly, more solitary than the birds,
They live and usually migrate alone, past the city's outlying suburbs.
Then there is reclusive, giant panda, active at night and by twilight,
When hued skies remember and review, the golden day's highlights.
Thinking of complex nature's solo acts, I did gain valuable insights,
For being alone is only natural, circumstances defining what's right.
I am no longer feeling guilty, but am accepting myself just as I am.
As the sun accepts taking over, when heavy storms are on the lam.
I still laugh it up at joyous parties, like fireworks and confetti stars,
Yet, I require long intervals of silence, like silky nights of no chaos!
“Hello, and thank you for calling Acme Products! Please listen to the following selections as our menu options changed 5 years ago and we want to make sure you have them memorized.
If you need help with billing, press 1.”
silence
“Are you sure you don't need help with billing? We have such nice people in our billing department.”
“Operator.”
“No can do. The system requires entering your selections via the keypad. Please repeat your request.”
G R R R R
“Well, if you're sure you don't want billing, press 2 for a listing of all our latest products.”
0 0 0 0 0 0
“That is an invalid selection.”
“Aaaiiieeeeeeeeeee.”
"You know, you really should take a look at our newest products."
N O N O N O
“Please remember to listen carefully as our options changed 5 years ago. For assistance with complaints on an already-purchased item”
3
“Invalid selection. Try again. For assistance with complaints on an already”
4
“I'm sorry. Input not understood. For billing, press 1. To hear about our newest products, press 2. For customer service on existing orders, press 4.”
4 4 4
“Thank you. If you did not receive your order, press 5. If you have a complaint about your order, press 6.”
I fyk djgm Acme Products. 6
“Please remember to use the keypad to enter your selections. If the complaint is about a box damaged in shipment, press 7.”
silence
"If you received your item but it is defective press”
8
“Please enter your name using the telephone keypad.”
W I L E E X O Y O T E
“Please reenter your name.”
W I L E E I H A T E A C M E C O Y O T E
“Customer 'I hate Acme' not found. Please try again. Please enter your name using the keypad on your phone.”
W I L E E C O Y O T E
“Thank you.
For questions related to Acme Invisible Paint, press 9.
For questions regarding the Acme Do-It-Yourself Rocket Sled Kit, press 10.
For questions regarding Acme Iron Bird Seed, press”
11
“Sorry. That is not a valid entry.”
K I # L L A * C M E
“Sorry. That is not a valid entry.”
“For questions regarding Acme Iron Bird Seed, hang up and dial 1-800-555-1212. Have a nice day and thank you for calling Acme Products. We appreciate your business.”
crack crunch shatter
signal lost
3
Pay attention!
Important chicken poetry coming up,
though no binary fantasies shall deconstruct
into raucous biddy enjambment.
4
Grandfatber always kicked Grandmother's chickens away
while he sat whittling under the Oak,
Those ruddy, Cherokee cheeks sweating even in the shade
as sweltering Carolina summers and bifocaled
old women melted him away in his seventies;
(Nothing heard by telephone,
cackling when he put the speaker to his mouth
or laid down to rest from the planting or harvesting,
On the flowered sofa
fussing with him to take off this boots,
putting The Liberty News under his feet);
But watching was Grandma's joy,
Haystack Calhoun and the Nature Boy,
wrestling on Saturday night
on the Philco black and white,
jumping up and jumping down
fists flying with each takedown;
Her fussing when he kicked her chickens--
He was a man of the Land not of the Leghorn;
Course he still cut off their heads for
Sunday dinners
with a whistle of his axe,
quick and clean;
So much better than Grandmother's
Flung blood and feathers,
The live body's flight
After wringing its neck.
(You really
Must take chickens seriously.)
5
Jesus,
my brother and I hated that rooster!
Mean!
I'll give you Mean!
Why that Leghorn from hell,
with the perfidious, featherless rear,
That wily old bastard,
laid for us kids from under the porch
flying at us spurs first
when we snuck out to play.
You had to admire his fierce
Protecting his brood
or just plain crazed for children's blood
maybe.
Therefore, I must insist
That you take chickens seriously.
6
The greatest chicken lit will not be televised,
but written by neurotic poultry
flirting with free verse
or thrown helplessly into concrete idioms,
wallowing in dirt-poor sentience;
Dissertations
on the identity crises of Rhode Island Reds
and the propensity of White Leghorns
to transfer insecurities of undifferentiated
consciousness
as violence enacted on certain small children
will be written but will probably not help chicken poetry endure.
7
Yet,
I pledge allegiance to the celebration of chicken poetry,
And the underappreciated poultry for which it stands,
One species, flightless but enduring,
With free range and corn for all.
There was a time in yesteryear
When I had lived alone,
I had come across a certain fear
Of things that dwell below
My mind kept leaping back inside
The dark holes of the unknown
Till one night I felt cruel eyes
Burning into my own
I hadn’t welcomed it I swear!
—please do not get me wrong
I couldn’t remain, I wouldn’t dare
Stay there for too long
I fled towards my bathroom,
As if that would scare it away!
I’d lose it, I assumed
As long as I didn’t stay
For a full hour I sat there
On the toilet seat
Sitting in the darkness where
I stared at my cold feet
Finally, standing, I opened up the door
I heard the screech of the hinge,
That creak and nothing more…
But still, it made me cringe
Each night I felt the eyes upon me
Fixedly, more and more
But one dark, cold night I suddenly saw
A figure at my bedroom door
My eyes couldn’t leave the sight
Of the insidious, insisting guest
My heart thumped drastically in fright
As you probably would have guessed
It stood there upon the blemished floor
Watching me in my bed
Its body leaned against my door
Tilting and jerking its head
I screamed and clutched onto my covers
Stabbing to stay my heart
Trying to reach the telephone for others
But it was just too far!
I looked out of my window
Watching the rain patter against the sill
I was trying to distract my terrified woe
That haunted me against my will
I must have been losing my mind
But one night I felt braver and sane,
Trying to be courteous and kind,
Though scared I asked, “What is your name?”
The atmosphere grew darker within the room
I thought that I would die of fright
“My name is Tsustaroth,” it said
“And I am kissing you goodnight”
In horror I saw it moving towards me
My blankets flew away
Its fiendish look of reptile beast
Was zooming towards my face!
I moved to the corner of the room
And it turned its head towards me
I felt the burning of terror and doom
Revel inside of me
Then I saw it disappear
Into the dusty floors
But thrashing footsteps I could still hear
Closer and closer…thumping on the floorboards
As soon as it had left the scene
I felt the earth beneath my skin
I felt so alive, so eerily keen
I felt the darkness lurking within
“And every night, yes every while,
I’ll visit you at your door,”
As he spoke I felt myself hysterically smile!
“ And we won’t be lonely anymore…”
This autumn morning with the birds waking up
and the leaves changing is Election Day. I meet
Jane Trichter on the downtown train and discuss
Henry's upset. Her skin is soft especially her cheeks
and she is intelligent and sensitive. The subway riders
do not recognize their representative.
All week, at the office, I accomplish nothing substantive
but keep the aides and interns working
and cheerful. On Tuesdays there is always a wave
of constituent complaints, by telephone. One woman's
Volkswagon is towed and the police break in
to get it out of gear. Do they have that right,
can they tow even though no sign said Tow Away Zone?
It is an interesting question but I try to avoid
answering it. The woman persists and succeeds
in committing me.
The people at the office want to bomb Iran. A few Americans
held hostage and therefore many innocent women and children
pay the postage. It may be good classical logic to hold responsible
the whole society for the acts of a few, however, then
I must begin to expect the bomb and the white cloud that waits.
Apocalyptic visions are popular again
but we are more likely to thrash the earth to within an inch of its life
than scorch it to charred rock.
Corner of Church and Chambers,
German tourist's language, accent repels me
although I wasn't alive 45 years ago
and many sweet, great Germans opposed the crazy Nazis
but lately I've read Primo Levi's If Not Now, When?,
seen William Holden in "The Counterfeit Traitor",
have followed the argument started by revisionists
who say the Nazi atrocities never happened.
War brought many shopkeepers, bookkeepers close to their earth,
weather, seasons, death.
I see daily life as low-intensity warfare
as my father, the World War II vet, did.
Off to work we go. What is war?
Population control, mother of invention, diversion
from the work of making life permanent.
Today is Election Day and because it's a day off
for most municipal employees, the City Hall area
has been quiet and easy to work in. Henry and Jane
hold a press conference on teenage alcoholism.
Leslie, the other aide, who I'd like to draw
the stockings and clothes off of and feel her whole body
with mine, goes home with her mother, leaving me
standing by my desk with my briefcase at the end
of Election Day.