sharp pings of hunger
as they desperately search
around closed trash can
My phone pings.
It's always on these random afternoons.
I don't know why I look for your name,
as if it were still a year ago.
It's almost reflexive,
as if the version of me
that hopelessly fell for you
has returned,
possessed,
ready to smile
at your flurry of messages.
I don't know why I listen for your voice,
as if twisting a stranger's shout
into yours
could bring you back
to my side.
God, she sounded like you.
Not half as precious, though.
I don't know why.
I don't exactly feel sad.
It's more like a helplessness-
so faint that
most of the time,
I wonder if it even exists.
But on these random, sunlit afternoons,
a quiet melancholy
flickers to life.
I know when that little red circle
appears again,
it'll be a red nose,
and I'll be the clown.
I don't know why,
but I'll still look
for the two hearts
next to the name
anyway.
you bring me comfort
in your chaos.
with every rumble,
with every crash,
my heart pings with joy.
I feel your rawness my blood rushes faster
then my veins can hold.
I become an adrenaline junkie,
jolted with excitement
alive.
Every strike you send
a message
a sudden transformation forms.
I am one with you,
I feel your power,
hold your energy.
you've set me on a new course
while bringing inner peace
He bumbled round the front nine
Scrambling by the high bramble
Scum fumbled the perfect lie
After nipping his car trunk’s handle
With thwaps and pings and whammy’s
His blood turned transfusion hue
He blames his hooks on “bangin trannys”
The joke fell flat to the cart gal, regardless of cue
Crickets echo in daytime thicket
Uncle Scum sweat through his woolen plaid
He sniffed and swung, missing the ticket
Another failure at the emerald launchpd
His friends left after he swang too haphazard
But no, good Uncle Scum always has the last reply
“If Daly can do it then so can I!
Now excuse me while I swim in the water hazard!”
He swam and he floated all drunkenly bloated
But didnt note the flock of geese
all ruffled and slighted
Now Uncle Scum was banned, as he says “scapegoated”
All because the groundskeeper kept the geese around
“The ones on hole eight that are more
fight than flight”
My inbox’s a mess, who cares though?
Too many emails, I’m just tryna let go.
"Read this, reply now," but nah, not today,
I’ll get to it later—ain’t no other way.
Every time I open, it's just more spam,
“Unsubscribe,” I swear, I don’t give a damn.
Work emails, bills, “Please check this link”
But honestly, I’d rather just sit and think.
It’s the 21st century, like who’s got time?
Constant pings, notifications all the time.
But guess what? I’m living my life,
Emails? Yeah, they’re just adding to the strife.
I scroll for a second, then close it all,
Hit “Mark as read,” I don’t care at all.
Tomorrow maybe, or next week—who knows?
But for now, I’m chillin', letting that stuff go.
So forget the inbox, forget the stress,
I’m gonna vibe, not deal with the mess.
I’m young, I’m free, I don’t need that weight,
I’ll check my emails—maybe... like, next date.
My inbox’s a mess, who cares though?
Too many emails, I’m just tryna let go.
"Read this, reply now," but nah, not today,
I’ll get to it later—ain’t no other way.
Every time I open, it's just more spam,
“Unsubscribe,” I swear, I don’t give a damn.
Work emails, bills, “Please check this link”
But honestly, I’d rather just sit and think.
It’s the 21st century, like who’s got time?
Constant pings, notifications all the time.
But guess what? I’m living my life,
Emails? Yeah, they’re just adding to the strife.
I scroll for a second, then close it all,
Hit “Mark as read,” I don’t care at all.
Tomorrow maybe, or next week—who knows?
But for now, I’m chillin', letting that stuff go.
So forget the inbox, forget the stress,
I’m gonna vibe, not deal with the mess.
I’m young, I’m free, I don’t need that weight,
I’ll check my emails—maybe... like, next date.
He zings through tall grasses and lands on my knee
I try my best to pull this sticky legged insect off me
He chortles and chuckles and pings off in the wind.
This hopper of grasses surely has annoyed and sinned.
Another one of these pests zings onto my shirt.
Giving me the willies, I scream at my cousin Bert
Get the lightening bug jar, let’s catch this foul creature
This grasshopper gives me a wink; he’s the double feature
Why are they so sticky? They are as tricky as glue.
And why, Bert, do these creepers never land on old you?
I guess I’m not as sweet, he says, with a wide smile.
Another one lands on me, says “Hi! Just call me Lyle!”
How many hearts will melt
from message, AI wrote
that pings upon a phone;
as many did who felt
soft kiss on gentle throat
that sighed a yielding moan?
The Chevy speeds by
eyesight pings it,
a reflexive vision
momentarily catches itself
looking back.
The barn is vacant, not empty,
its eyes have been locked open,
it bathes in sparrow and bat time.
Now hollow lids capture, snatch at
a headlong flight of vision.
A snap of fleeting attention
has stabled a glance in a timeless stall
where dust hangs
in a slant of suspended light.
Road barn and car are frozen
as one symbiotic after-image,
until all disappear into each other.
Then without pause or passage
horizons are released,
distance and perspective amended,
as the tremor of a splintered
looking glass
fades behind racing wheels.
The strange caricature reminds me of your odd face,
The twinkling roar clings to your tiny lace.
The way you want to lean on my race,
The sacred passion gives me a new space.
The only path I have seen,
One and only desire you could have been,
One and only proportion you own for the time being,
I am no one else until you see me clearly giving.
The endless life is a paradox of gorgeous wings,
You are no longer out of control for the measured pings.
The unholy genuineness gives me no more rare bliss,
The unknown appetites are the reason for my irregular gist.
It is not common or ordinary anymore,
It is not filled with hate at its core.
It is no longer my salient reason,
No reason can ease my aggressive tension.
Why can I not settle for less?
Why are you not something obvious to bless?
Why don't you know my name until I remind you of the same?
Why can't you see me as nothing more than a dice in this game?
northerly breeze whips
giant oak loses acorns ....
loud pings disturb sleep
If we could teach the world, one thing
it should not be, the price of string
the microwave and why it pings
the endless list, of English kings
the dynasty, of Chinese Ming
the mystery, of golden rings
the history, of Western Swing
No
absolutely none of these things
with all the distraction they would bring
if we could teach the world one thing
we need everybody to stop
we need everyone to listen and look
to hear the little bird that sings
and watch it flap its tiny wings
If we could teach the world one thing
we'll show those people how to dream
above the crazy sounds and scenes
to find all the hope and all the joy
that our imagination just might bring
If we could teach the world one thing
maybe somehow we could learn
the power of ideas, the power of ideals
with courage, decency, justice and truth
from all of those who walked before
Dorchester Labourers, Doctor King
women who did amazing things
in science, politics, literature and more
if we could teach the world one thing.
Tinnitis is annoying, with little tings
going off in my ears, and crackles and rings.
With this noise in my head
I dread going to bed,
This affliction's such a terrible thing.
I often go for days without any pings
inside of my head, no hisses or dings;
but when they occur
I can't relax, life's a blur;
If there is ever a cure, I will sing!
The dishes can wait, they have waited before,
All my work problems, I’ll simply ignore.
The email pings call, they too can wait,
For I'm on my break, to procrastinate.
I’ll slouch in the couch, maybe stare at the sky,
Watch clouds drift by, as day's cares pass by.
My brain is in neutral, my worries on pause,
I’m doing my best to never show cause.
With coffee in hand, I’ll stare at the wall,
Pretending I’m thinking deeply, pondering on it all.
The world can wait, it won’t implode,
While I forsake my workaholic mode.
Stuff the to-do list? Do nothing at all, that's the go!
The churning of tasks is set to real, real slow.
A nap sounds good! Perhaps a little snooze!
I’ll wake refreshed, with nothing more to lose.
So I'm clocked off for now, I'm just taking five.
If you call me in, with can't-wait excuse, to contrive
My break will become ten, even twenty-five I'll yen.
Perhaps I'll take the whole day off, once and over again.
So here I sit, without a care,
Switched-off in my comfy chair.
Learning the art of taking a break
Goodness gracious! Am I still awake?
"The Beauty Of Community"
(written by Michelle Lynn LeBlanc 11/20/23)
When people come together
It's such a beautiful thing
There's something healing about it
For it brings a peace within
How often do we get caught up
Simply socializing online
When what we really need on the inside
Is coming together for quality time
There's a Beauty In Community
Now so often left unseen
We must get back to the basics
For socialization is in our genes
Healing comes from connection
Strength comes in the bonds we share
Opening our minds with one another
For a personal touch shows we care
Choosing to let down the walls
And learning to trust again
Cannot be found behind our screens
Which is such as popular trend
Healing is not just in our daydreams
Or in our visions of the night
It's in our daily routines
What we choose at the dawn of sunlight
The Beauty Of Community
It's such a remarkable thing
The in-person touch of connection
Far outweighs the dings and pings
So let's get out there and reconnect
It's what we were born to do
Giving hugs and sharing smiles
This is where we'll find our breakthrough!
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.