Dot to dot and dash to dash:
telegrams sent in a flash.
Electromagnetic force:
credit goes to Samuel Morse.
Dots connected on a map
by his magic tap-tap-tap.
Letters had a sequenced code
on the wire and down the road.
Dot is short and dash is long;
best if you don’t get them wrong.
Common letters, shorter bursts;
Q, X, Y, Z - they’re the worst.
Between letters, subtle breaks;
must have been some fun mistakes!
Senders need no nervous twitch,
insult in-laws with a glitch.
Decode takes a fine-tuned ear,
pen and paper always near.
First one sent: “what hath God wrought?”
Later, Hitler joined the plot.
Shot himself, the Reich, in flame;
Goering’s ’gram held partial blame.
Dot to dot and dash to dash:
Transatlantic distance smashed.
Dash to dash and dot to dot -
Now look at the phone I’ve got!
----------
for the Dot to Dot Poetry Contest
sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
written on 11/16/22
Categories:
senders, technology,
Form: Couplet
On the exquisite wings of fated infinity.
We move with subtle elegance and fluidity.
To sail into odd space on a vessel of silence.
It is clearly the domain of the swanky credence.
I desired you to be hither on a grisly day.
Hardship had exhausted my psychic spray.
I hailed you while gazing at your charm.
On the verge of a crux in winsome smarm.
Here you'll find the hustle and bustle.
We will rest and unwind as the term shuffle.
After you've aged through the up and down.
Our stature in a senders mod panel is known.
I'd been deprived of any expectation, developed.
The pre-winter light was precisely what I scorned.
What's beyond, yelled out, "Let the haziness in!"
The portly flare ought to be turned until the spleen.
We are enjoying areas that are beyond our side.
When we beget to maturity, all effort has died.
You can willingly view we've arrived at the wallow.
Waivers serve as the lessons we should follow.
Written: November 09, 2021
This or That, Vol 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Categories:
senders, allegory, analogy, appreciation, confusion,
Form: Rhyme
The letters that humans mail
Are certainly not for sale
As senders will never fail.
Categories:
senders, missing you,
Form: Englyn
Guys eyeing a staggering ransom
And willing to unleash the gruesome
The senders to follow their uncomfortable instructions
Or get ready for the unpleasant ructions.
In a matter of minutes gagging protesting lips
On disobedient backs landing punitive whips
A chaining of the resisting limb,
Hopes of rescue making slim.
In unthinkable venue detaining their captive
Before him testing their firearms bloody active
Any twist or turn attracting a warning shot
Unplanned funny moments punches tropically hot.
A hostage wishes things won't be savage
A dumping all day long like garbage,
His voice at the mercy of silencing sellotape
Body to the immovable tied against escape.
Kidnappers like bandits behave
Thesame choices of weapons making
Between knives so razor sharp they can shave
And hand guns that won't injury be faking.
Categories:
senders, poems, poetry,
Form: Rhyme
From having not enough to do
I’m now bombarded with a slew
Of YouTubes that I have to view –
Right now! Right now! Right now!
A few are funny, some bring tears
While others cause disdain or sneers
But what I think is it appears
That onward folks will plow.
They all mean well; I don’t regret
The texts or emails that I get.
I hope the senders aren’t upset
If time does not allow…
My answering them right away
For I’m not able to obey
Each message sent, without delay –
I simply don’t know how.
Categories:
senders, me,
Form: Rhyme
Pain is just a messenger,
That cannot leave until you give an answer,
That shows you understand the question,
And filled out the questionnaire to the senders satisfaction,
And attached a plan for future action.
Smart people don't shoot messengers,
They stop when lights are red,
They install smoke alarms in places they rest their head
And don't put unread notices in the bin,
And always hear out any messenger who comes in.
Categories:
senders, analogy, character, confidence, courage,
Form: Didactic
A 'Good Old Days Market' sign seen
With arrows that point to the scene;
There hidden by wall
Of stone, very tall,
I ventured and found behind screen,
Some tables with items arranged...
Such irony...somewhat deranged!
There spread out in view...
Still wanted by few...
Remains, by new tech, now estranged!
Typewriters galore, 'modern' style.
Old telephones that you must dial.
Flip cellphones that close...
Eight-track videos...
Oh, such a 'nostalgic' junk pile!
Some huge V H S movie cams,
The weight of two five-pounder hams.
Fax senders...hand fed...
Received...in hands read,
And heaps of outdated programs!
Old Apple computers, diskettes;
Recorders with lots of cassettes.
Fat TVs with tubes,
Old Kodaks, flashcubes...
Those 'good' old days? Gone! No regrets!
Sandra M. Haight
Categories:
senders, funny,
Form: Limerick
The ones they don't want,
the ones no longer needed...
are stuffed, by senders, inside pretty balloons.
Blown up then sold half price to the breeze.
Their paths zigzagging crazily.
Some are found impaled on fences.
Others are bound for the holy grate.
Some are never found.
W they hell or heaven bound.
Others float gently back onto the concrete lap of the sender.
Asking through rubber lips and broken teeth,
"Was it all just a lavender lesson or just black accident"?
In silence the senders perch,
replace all eyes with the eulogy of blackbirds.
Preparing another balloon to send them off ...again.
I guess that is their answer.
Categories:
senders, betrayal,
Form: Free verse
It was early in the morning when the postman came to call
I was standing in my undies as I shivered in the hall
He said he had a parcel as I peered around the door
“There isn’t any name and so I don’t know who it’s for
Its this address that’s on it, and that is pretty plain
But, I’m afraid, I cannot find, a clue as to the name
If you sign here I’ll leave it, and then I’ll be on my way
I’ve ever such a lot of things I need to do today”
So, I signed the postmans’ docket, placed the package on the floor
Thanked him for his trouble as I slowly closed the door
Standing there and wondering in the middle of the hall
I removed the outer layers to reveal a soccer ball
A note attached with sticky tape explained the senders thoughts
I’d smashed his bedroom window and been well and truly caught
“I have you here on video, the ball, found on my bed
You’ve been exposed, the bill’s enclosed, so next time use your head”
© john W Fenn 19-10-2009
Categories:
senders, funny
Form: Light Verse