Rotary Poems

Wind Phones

In many parks along peaceful walking trails
wind phones can now be found across the world.
With the help of an old rotary dial telephone,
mourners can speak freely to lost loved ones.

These phones are the direct line to the other side
for those who sadly never got to say goodbye.

Mourners can speak their heart into the wind
to help process their grief on the road to healing.
A phonecall has the power to release built-up anguish
for those longing to attain closure and a sense of peace.



AP: Honorable Mention 2025

The Hummingbird Fantasy King

Mr. Smith sat tiredly, long hours at his desk,
by an old vacation photo, picturesque,
and a stack of papers; another twelve-hour day,
slowly, draining his lonely life away.

He looked at the picture and thought he heard
the voice of a tropical hummingbird
that lived inside that aged picture frame,
and, strangely, called him by his childhood name. 

Could this be a hallucination?
Some out-of-control visualization?
He wondered, "Should I laugh out loud or scream?
I mustn't worry.  It must just be a dream...

Or maybe it's a reverie, not a dream?"
The voice said, "I am His Majesty Supreme,
by needle beak, and by rotary wing,
I am the hummingbird fantasy king.
 
Smith felt his grip was growing flimsy,
when the bird said, "I also deal in whimsy".
"No! bird", you are my imagination!"
he screamed at the bird who forgot his station.

Mr. Smith disappeared, some say lost his mind.
Others say he left the world behind,
and he's living in a tropical dream
with a hummingbird, His Majesty Supreme.

Outside My Front Door

Outside, by my front door,
I count twelve things.  Can you count more?
When I go out to take the air,
a snail and butterfly greet me there,
and I always see someone -
a lizard out in the sun.
A spider plucks his silvery strings
which he also uses to catch flies and things.
Uhoh, the snail is going somewhere,
but a caterpillar beats him there.
In the soil, where up spring plants,
I see a regiment of ants.
They march along in formation,
members of the six-legged nation.
In the tree a robin sings.
Hey, what's that - a hummingbird with rotary wings!
Let's not forget to take stock
of all the things under the rock.
A rolly polly rolls up cuz he's shy.
A centipede with a hundred legs strolls by.
When you go outside, what can you count?
Can you find a higher amount?
I'm scared of too many things outside.
I'm going back into my house to hide.

WAKE-UP CALL

# 4

The wake-up call woke me,
grabbed the copper vintage rotary
phone, no line. The ringing
continued, where? Hung up the
wall phone in the bathroom.

The Old Rotary

*PV - Proverbial Verbiage

The Old Rotary

Dialing out…zzzzip…zzzzzzzip…zzzzzzzip
and
zip…zzip…zzzip…zzzzip
and brring…

long distance was not a thing
for children. they could only
ring those within their corridor

ching…ching
money didn’t grow on trees
the grown up made sure
we were wise

or they’d wise up
our behinds

but we didn’t even try
a bit smarter back then

smarting at smaller things
like
eating Mr. McGregor’s produce
throwing
stones at cars
but
we kept our hands
off the old man’s
cookie jar (PV)
rang Grandma
once a year (PV)

It was more fun to dial out
but by then a burglar
tied you up (PV)

Rotary Cheese Grater

I used to have cheese as a slice 
Boring , but it still tasted nice 
Then in Christmas 23 
I had a present bought for me 
What a marvel, what a sight 
Greeted my eyes that Christmas night 
For a while I had been waiting 
Now unwrapped, I could start grating ! 
Wife said  “put it away now,  do it later “
“No” said I - “give me my rotary grater”
I grated cheddar, then tried Brie,
Even a nice grilled halloumi.
I was quite the artisan 
With a block of Parmesan 
The piles of cheese grew bigger 
And the family could not figure
Why on that family Boxing Day 
I would grate, grate, grate away
Fat  grate , thin grate , powder grate 
Adorned the Christmas dinner plate 
My wife with eyes now wide and round, 
Said “ My oh my, that’s quite a mound !
“ I shaped the cheese into a wreath 
And said “if bits stick in your teeth “
“Don’t reach out for the dental picks, 
“ Jan’s also sent some dentastix”

Clotheslines

The old timers complain nowadays, 
about how modern technology.
Is stealing away all their secrets and,
selling everyone's privacy.

Information is left up for grabs,
exposed for all of the world to see.
By touching a finger to a glass,
while they are hiding behind the scenes.

As my mother would always tell us, 
“You do not air your dirty laundry.
But back in the day, if I farted,
she would know about it before me.

But I never could quite understand,
how anything could possibly be.
Less private than hanging my holey,
underwear outside for all to see.

If you're thinking that your 5G phone,
might be the fastest thing in the land.
Then you have never met my mother,
with a rotary phone in her hand.

Still I Loved It

Louis the Sixteenth vintage rotary dial phone
realistic, except for the pinkness.
genuine antique phone was copper and back
still I all loved it and wanted one exactly like it.

Expired

Times have changed at such a fast rate
With technology I don’t understand
I feel like an alien in my own world
Im so completely out of date!

Oh, for the simple days of little frustration
When the t.v had four channels and it was free
You had to physically turn the t.v knob
Disputing who’s turn it was to get up and change the station

When the family phone was attached to a wall
For the whole family to use
It was big ,clunky with a rotary dial
And all it could do was call

When a camera was used to take photos
That had a film roll inside
To take to the chemist to get developed
In either “matt or gloss” to pick up in a week or so

When correspondence was hand written or typed
Enclosed in an envelope with stamp then mailed
Music was played on a record player or radio 
Dishes were hand washed and wiped 

Now it’s all computerised 
With passwords and codes
Beeping, flashing and telling you NO
Kept in clouds in the sky!!

I know technology and progress are a need
And one has to move with the times
There are so many positives and benefits
But I miss those uncomplicated , simple days indeed!

A Real Technology Expert

I am not technically challenged
I am merely being tested
Well, that’s my story anyway
There are those who would beg to differ
So let them
Who cares?
I may not know all there is to know
About computers
About streaming
About smart phones
Who says they’re so smart?
They don’t impress me much
I once threatened 
To throw mine in the river
For being so stupid
Damn Android
More like hemorrhoid
If you ask me
Meaning pain in the you know what
Give me back my Princess model
Preferably in pink or turquoise
And with a rotary dial
I bet I can get one on Amazon

1970 To 1979

I am Farrah Fawcett,
Poster on the wall. 
  I am a rotary phone,
When I made a call. 

   I am, Boss,
it’s the plane, The plane. 
   I am Pablo Escobar,
And his cocaine. 

   I am Queen with 
Freddy Mercury Live. 
   I am the Bee Gees,
Talking that Jive. 

   I am vinyl, 8-tracks,
 cassettes and CDs. 
   I am, make love not war, 
And Hippies. 

   I am where is the beef? 
Don't squeeze the Charmin. 
   I am Cheech and Chong 
and George Carlin. 

   I am SNL when it
Was funny. 
   I am Happy Days,
And a Playboy bunny. 

   I am M.A.S.H. and
A metal Lunch-box.
   I am clackers, tang,
And a Pet-rock.


   I am American Bandstand, 
Peace signs, and the twist. 
   I am pay-phones, pagers,
and stick-shifts. 

   I am, conjunction junction,
What's your function?
   I am Patty Hearst and 
Her abduction. 

      Turbo1904

Hammerklavier

Beethoven smashes one piano after another.
He shears through keyboards,
a peasant scything hay.
The composer's fingers listen
through touch,
they become deeper, more blunted,
a vibration of mallets.

Frown the brow,
push the plow
make music drive a steamroller.

His apartment is disorderly,
tools and equipment
are hidden in Dresden figurines,
in elderly Delftware,
ball-peen hammers crammed
into the whittled stems of goose quills.

Augers, grinders, and rotary tillers
are rendered into themes and motifs.
Wrecking crews hum and stamp,
tables thump out allegro dissonance.

Into this din and demolition
comes a heavy sonata
the hard-nosed 'Hammerklavier'
bulldozing a blunt pathway
into cramped 19th century streets,

where in the absence of safety barriers,
all but one turns a deaf ear.

Rotary Whisk

 trees tremble, nuts fall
angels use of rotary whisk
the wind as if mint
refreshes my home
it is brisk, inviting
i’m cold
i don’t care
it is Fall

9/26/2022

The Conqueror Worm

Of course, all straights are bent
our rotary motion

the further back we travel in
space, the greater the arc
apparent

even our words are subject to gravity

inclined toward earth, absorbed
long before eternity

some mine for jewels
I uncover the promises kept
and unkept...lies and truths
compacted to indistinguishable
masses – buried

with the bones of those who spoke them
absent lips and breaths

but a disgruntled grave digger I am not

just an insatiable book-worm

regurgitating my volume of Poe

Hammerklavier

Beethoven smashes one piano after another.
He shears through keyboards,
a peasant scything hay.
The composer's fingers don't grow deaf,
they become deeper, more blunted,
like mallets.

His apartment is disorderly,
tools and equipment
are hidden in Dresden figurines,
in elderly Delftware,
ball-peen hammers crammed
into the whittled stems of goose quills.

Augers, grinders and rotary tillers
are rendered into themes and motifs.
Wrecking crews hum and stamp,
tables thump out allegro dissonance.

Into this din and demolition
plows a heavy sonata
the hard-nosed 'Hammerklavier'
bulldozing its trenchant path
into the cramped streets;
where in the absence of safety barriers,
a defiant deconstruction
has begun.

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