Telephone Poems - Poems about Telephone

A Game Of Telephone

Let's play a game of telephone...

crepitant tongues converse

overly dramatic tendencies 

incoherently  concrete

awakening preoccupation 

a train flying off the tracks

chaotic clumps crust up

dissonance distended 

indecorous reception

viral instigator

I dont want to sift

sterilize rhetoric

abrasive to the ear.

A game of telephone...let's play.

Telephonic

Whatever happened to the telephone book
enquiring minds need to know
there hasn't been one here for years
so wherever did it go
and what about the telephone box
or the answer machine
I haven't seen either near it's clear
they're few and far between
they went the way of the dodo
long before their time
as not everyone owns a mobile phone
and no you

Telephonic

Whatever happened to the telephone book
enquiring minds need to know
there hasn't been one here for years
so wherever did it go
and what about the telephone box
or the answer machine
I haven't seen either near it's clear
they're few and far between
they went the way of the dodo
long before their time
as not everyone owns a mobile phone
and no you

The Juvenile Delinquents' personal Informational Bible scam part one and Q and A

Last night, on March 24,2025, two juvenile boy's with a Madison telephone number.
Pretended first to by from the country of Syria and later on from the country of Ireland.
But their number was most likely one inside of the United States.  Although they both 
started out asking some basic biblical questions such was it Samson

Red Telephone Booth

An old gaunt lady
With feeble steps 
Walked to the red telephone booth
On the roadside pavement
Every day she dialed a number
And spoke inaudibly into the receiver
As tears streamed down her crinkly face
This continued for an hour
Until she resigned for the day
Hoping for another heartfelt conversation
A baffling mystery unsettled us
Spectators to this daily drama.

The Telephone

Sighing, she watches the phone,
wishing someone would call her -
once, it hardly stopped ringing
and she would answer, sighing -
but the silence is worse...

Inspired by Picture Four

The Telephone

silhouetted against the vast farmland,
western Sun set put up a painter’s dream,
it lit the place up like house on the strand,
stillness of silence and the flowing stream!

inherited it from my great grand dad,
was history rolling on a grand scale,
antiques, tapestry, gothic arts it had,
handed from generations, not for sale.

on the mantle at the humming furnace,
a

Paint A Picture

In your vintage gold design

you lay in brilliant elegance-

a memory of our yesteryear

held in the highest esteem;

words flew through the air.

Image 4

Cardinal on telephone pole

Someones watching me 
stands out among other birds 
beautiful cardinal

Have You Gone? Have I Gone?

I get a tiny text from you.
I do remember emails.
Before those, phone conversations.
And prior to those we'd meet.
Sit for hours with coffee, tea, wine, chat.

Chats appeared to go on and on and on.

Remember those times,
the chat, wine, tea, coffee?
Then the phone calls we shared?
And then some emails,
before the occasional text?

Texts may not go on.


(23 Oct

Interconnect and Embrace

Written: October 15, 2023
                    _______________________________________

Hanging precariously on the landline pole,
The sun's beams dance, yet no heat console.
Akin to power wires in homes spread and sway,
But it seems friendly warmth has gone astray.
 
Sun rays are vanishing behind

Rutherford B Hayes

good old dead Rutherford B Haves
most do not know he was president
his name is not famous like Lincoln or Kennedy
because he was not assassinated probably

But he could be famous for one thing
He was the first president to allow a phone into the White House
His phone number is so easy, you may be able to remember

Telephone Poles On a Country Road

Like telephone poles on a country road
    the years stretch endlessly before him
  One no different than the other
    an 'only family,' no sisters, no brothers

  The first stretch he calls 'office poles'
    pencil-sharpening, paper-shuffling 
        

Our Morning Telephone Call

I say words
my friend says words
neither of us responds to the other words
we are always waiting for a pause
so we can say more words
the other is not hearing

it is our usual phone call
I say more words
she says something
no one is listening
it is okay
we do not seem to care

I wait for a pause
I say more words
she

She Faces a Window

I'm hearing that same telephone
from a neighbouring flat,
each day at that same time,
labouring with its ring-ding, ring-ding.

This is no neighbour whom I know
except that I glimpse that face, and hear that bell
each day at that same window
as she turns away from that ring-ding, ring-ding.

Does she love to hear it,
so then can turn her back to

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