In the early 80's,
Before the internet
And before the mass usage
Of hand held telephones;
On a clear and sunny day;
On a southwest bound freeway,
Not far from the Golden Gate Bridge,
One motorist angrily shouted to another
Motorist, "That's crazy!" The other motorist
Was quick to reply by saying, "You're right!"
Such verbal interaction occurred because
One driver became irate as he observed
Another driver reading a book while driving.
It should be noted that not all highway rages
Are created equally. Some end peacefully.
The reading motorist immediately complied
With the angry driver's suggestion and changed
His reading habits.
Get out of me before I scream
voices of children and dogs
of radios and telephones
of the exhaust of buses
of dead birds frozen in the gutters
Don’t touch me or I will explode
faded hands of the old with their old smell
blighted hands of beggars
crumbling trees
electrical wires slicing the lucid blue skin of the sky
Keep out of my mouth my heart my loins
Don’t murder me with your voices of the dead that speak forever
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If the computers never exist
There would be chit chat
on the telephones and I-Pads
When family comes over chit chat
is heard
Lots of lots of face to face chatting
We would be reading
more books
Enjoying the theatres
To watch movies
The telephone would be
used more
listening to conversation
Chatting for long hours
of our news of the day
Just a thought I had
Without computers
There would be nowhere
To create our poetry
there
Human ingenuity leapfrogs beyond ordinary
Buoying upon wings of intellectual curiosity
Sustaining innovation, creative imagination,
Breaking barriers once thought impenetrable,
Daring to conquer the arduous, unknown~
Resistant to understanding, inert to inquiry.
Unfathomable is force of scientific curiosity
That opened doors to discoveries, inventions:
Telescopes that explore the origin of universe,
Space flights landing on Moon and Mars,
Defying gravity, exceeding the speed of sound;
Telephones, electricity, computers, automobiles,
Untold preventive medicines, therapeutics,
Vaccines holding in check reign of pandemics,
Treatments for diseases, cure for hepatitis,
Nuclear fusion searching new source of energy
Reducing emissions to sustain life on earth.
Curiosity is the flame of wisdom, inspiration,
Lifeline for mortality pursuing life and liberty;
Promise of yesterday, today, and tomorrow,
For explicating phenomena less understood,
For guiding aspirations of cognitive intellect,
For directing journey on roads not traversed.
January 8, 2023
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 15 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
When youth fades to a crumbling age
bones become telephones.
for minds to answer.
No diel-up tones,
you are directly plugged into
its skeletal language
of cracked joints and rusted nails.
Those crumbling bones
have to call you up day and night,
just to make sure
you are still listening,
still paying attention
to the way nature
has faithfully kept its promise
to you
of a guaranteed shelf-life.
Telephones are melting minds,
digital waves are cooking brains.
Facebook is our judge and jury.
An old man is eating ice cream cones,
one after an another.
He is sniffing little girls hair
unaware that anyone is watching.
I think his strange demeanor
signals that he doesn’t care
about America, just the Ukraine -
maybe we should move there,
might be safer?
Idiots shout into their cellphones
and the whole world is now a telephone booth;
global warming is a dire warning
and apparently methane is the scourge of the earth.
We more responsible citizens
are just trying hard not to fart.
From paper bags to plastic bags
From manual cars to automatic cars
From telephones to handphones
But in the political world
The world stays stagnant
For just a split second
The youngsters who are the future hosts
Never take concern
And emerge to take over any responsibilities
We see oldies who are leaving sooner or later
Taking concern of everything
The youngsters still got many years to go
Sure they aren't willing to face
A future world of chaos and poverty
telephones used to be fat and bulky
chunky with short cords
attached to walls
people could listen in
on party lines
learning more than they ever needed to know
I miss the good ole days
When I would hear Grandma yell “Gladys, Get off the line!”
When James Bond had Pussy Galore
Moneypenny slammed shut the door
MI's telephones
Broadcast Pussy's moans
Touting British esprit de corps!
We awakened to rhythms of beating drums
Shouting cadences through a low rising river fog
Young men talking to friends in distant villages
On the only telephones they have.
We marveled at their ingenuity, their creativity
The strange language only they could understand
While we ate our mound of breakfast plantains
And missed our cellphones.
The bush comes alive; the heavy humidity hovers
Thick with the acrid smells of open cooking fires
Young women are heading for the open fields
While the older villagers gather to make deals.
They know nothing of super mini malls
Nor the clanging bell of the stock market
Every day is a search for their daily needs
And still, they are the world’s happiest people.
BRONZE WINNER
under the name "A Suburb of Nairobi"
"100 Poem Celebration" Poetry Contest
September 2, 2021
The hovering heavy clouds of a Monday,
Where behind tight windows
Those who once were a part of God’s world
Wander hidden away from others.
Where once more they wash and rewash and clean,
And fear the presence of their neighbor,
Where they hide behind tight windows
And long for their children locked away.
Where telephones ring with hollow sounds,
And grown children’s faces are researched,
While tears roll and grocers toll for business struggling,
We gaze at lonely unkempt trees and hope
Hope for a brighter tomorrow,
When hovering clouds of a Tuesday
Stand tall and waiting.
b>When I was little ...
cookie crumbs
plastic drums
soft stepping Stones
telephones heirloom
tomatoes banana split
clinging onto mama's hip
and on the deep end
peachy keen vanilla bean
grandma home made
cobbler boysenberry pie
MY, MY, MY
all this happens things had happen
When I was little
Love me like you mean it without pretending smile
don't need a stroke of genius or conversation style
your presence is required, the telephones a rue
don't need you constantly but never just won't do
love me like you mean it without pretending smile
Love me like you care enough to give the very best
believe in what I say and never put me to the test
I'm always here, slow to anger quick in every turn
so share it now while I'm alive, no ashes in the urn
love me like you mean it without pretending smile
Love me like you mean it come raise me off the floor
relationships aren't easy, you can't buy one at the store
so here is your VIP, message me a signal see to see
all is good when we're together drinking Red Rose tea
love me like you mean it, without pretending smile...
December 6, 2019
Contest Name: Love Me Like You Mean It
Sponsor Name: Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
TOWN CHILDREN
Deep in the midst of dawning view
Children awaken to a fresh morning dew
Eyes heavy with sleeping
Still in their beds
While the chattering of neighbors
Irritate their heads
Deep in the midst of eyes awakening
Telephones ringing becomes disabling
Minds trying to engage
Amid the noise
Another day in a town
That’s lacking poise
Deep in the midst of some town avenues
Children, out the door, meet mufflers spew
Visions of soon visiting
The country side
Propel their young legs
To dream in stride
While…Deep in the midst of some country side lanes
Children, not so different, find faults and complain
Minds trying to engage
Still in their beds
While visions of town life
Dance in their heads
Deep in the midst of a dawning view
Children awaken to a fresh morning dew
Another day in the country
That’s lacking poise
So tired of the country life
Needing noise
© 10/02/2019
Digging, digging, digging...
She defeats the dry sand.
Red dust enhances her resistance.
Thanks to the underground cables
and her sweat,
lest our telephones won’t ring.
He’d filled her womb with transient love
and vanished behind the crowd,
but she won’t let herself drown
in loneliness
She’s conscious
never anxious
of swelling love inside
This is a unique pain
like one from the depth of nature.
She withdraws into the seclusion
of the bathroom.
Hearing her shriek,
the local class passengers rush
to the door.
Her baby falls down
through the open toilet pipe
as a train gives birth.
Somebody pulls the chain.
Locomotive lullaby ceases.
Newborn baby lies safe on
the track between the right
and left rows of wheels.
She didn’t make it unnatural
with tonics, tablets and tests.
She didn’t waste thousands
during the last ten months.
First published in my book, "Kanoli Kaleidoscope" (PunksWritePoemsPress, USA)
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