Family Values
It made me feel good to see the family,
mother, father, son and daughter
sitting together on the spread blanket at the park
heads bowed around their picnic lunch, a tradition
of saying grace before the meal not often seen,
when they all look up at the same time, laugh and
point at the tweet just received on their iPhones.
We first met coasting the blurred lines
of the information superhighway. We
exchanged polite words and respectful
kindness, though we seldom saw or heard
each other.
I am the old man of touch and eye contact,
you are the princess of text and illusions.
I adapt to your hot realms, to your affinity
for glittering screens because past and future,
old and young are but shadows cast
over the now.
Once I learned the rules, I believed in you.
You are alive and fragrant within the text
you deliver each moment of each day.
In the photos you send, in the stories you share,
you thrive and brighten my journey!
Social Media Princess,
my apps erect you through your words,
like the heroine I love in my favorite novel,
the perfect Eidolon in my dreams.
You return, making your offerings
again, and again. I somehow hear your
whispering words soothing my
solitary hungry heart. I somehow awaken
to your textual passion and kindness,
to my love and longing for you.
Starting with the book move,
Hii, it's pawn to e-four.
Don't act like strangers,
You've seen this move before.
Now my knights came into play,
It's surely an awkward move.
You won't understand my intentions,
And it might hurt you out of blue.
Now I'm cluttered in this position,
And there's no trick under my hat.
But I'm a true and loyal player,
You better believe in that.
It's hard for me to open up,
And castling feels secure.
I've placed my gambit.
Now the next move is yours.
Your bishop slashed me at diagonal,
And i have no good counter,
You say she's not aiming my rook,
But its obvious for me to doubt her.
Between this hustle,
My queen is under threat.
I should have been more careful,
And tried to avoid this bet.
But now I finally realize,
No matter what trick you choose,
You're just a noob to your opps
It's the game you always lose.
Leeann and I are third cousins
similar in personalities, happy to know each other
she is nine, I am seventy-two; both of us is divisible by nine.
Her grandma asked if Leeann could text me.
A nine-year-old with a cellphone?
Why?
I thought it was strange, but said yes.
Leeann sent the first text “hi”.
I texted “hi” back.
Then she texted “I like your paintings.”
I love painting; I have thirteen hundred of them.
I started to think about this little girl.
Her parents are both computer wizards.
They spend all of their time with electronics.
Leeann has no siblings or cousins or close neighbors.
I texted a challenge to Leeann – how large was the largest catfish recorded?
I said “there will be bonus points for a photo.”
She whipped back the info and the picture in two minutes.
I told her it was her turn to ask me a question
We have been winging questions back and forth for several days.
One night I figured it might be close to her bedtime.
I said “what time is your bedtime?”
“Ten o’clock” – two only children raising another only child.
I was horrified.
I told her my bedtime was nine-thirty when I was in twelfth grade.
She texted back "that horrifies me!"
What is the meaning of this text?
You sent it last night after I'd gone to bed.
I read it this morning and now feel vexed
About when you sent it and what it said.
It would seem that you are breaking up with me,
Two months and three weeks after our first date.
You spun it as though you were setting me "free,"
Helping me avoid some unpleasant fate.
But I know that you know this is a lie,
I'd like to continue what we had begun.
It's you who wants to end it, but won't say why,
Did you meet someone else who was a bit more fun?
I'm left with questions, and you're nowhere near,
A coward's way to break up, it's abundantly clear.
I drink of your company
and dine on your laughter
I bathe in your kisses
and glow ever after
You fuel me forever
We are a force divine
and I expect our love to last all tests of time
Love to Last the Test of Time
I wrote you a poem in real time in IM on a phone! Artimus (C) Susan Manley 12:45AM 11/12/23
Young geeks, txt with lightning speed,
Old dudes, lol, trying hard to find the next key to text,
w/e our asl may be, we are trying to convey,
our feelings, imho, in a cryptic language.
Codgers love the high from aged malt,
Whipper-snappers are already addicted to texting before they know,
You may go to jail for dui,
But you may be dead texting and driving,
Texting has its own dictionary and personalities trait,
Btw idk if still ily? u wre my og,
Nvm ‘m smh, hmu asap,
No cap, tbh Ily.
Kit w/ ur hak, ur pain and sorrow, ur social events,
I will reply you with im chat,
a chat waiting to be responded,
Is like missing ur xoxoxo.
It's three o'clock in the morning
and I'm still awake...
Waiting for your texts but there's none.
I almost forgot to take a shower
while waiting for your move to make
Wondering of your precious time, but it's gone.
Everytime I look at your picture,
you always make me smile.
Everytime I look at our picture,
my heart swims in the Nile.
Texting you is what I always do.
Checking you out from time to time,
knowing you'll always be fine.
Texting is my only means to talk to you,
not knowing where you are or what you do.
Believing you are in my arms all the time
Loving you will always make my life shine.
Texting you or you texting me is what I want.
Leaving you or you leaving me alone is not what I want.
You know I'm just here waiting...
Waiting for you to come back!
I am irritated that people do not drive any more
They are so busy texting, they do not get the big picture.
They look up intermittently, but not often enough
Not realizing that every truck and car is a potential weapon
Until one hits them head on
By then it may be too late
Is texting” I will be there in five” really that important?
Written by Gail R DeBole
on June 20, 2022
A texter who texted all day
When in-person had not much to say.
He lived life on his text-screen
Never ran out of text-steam
And sent messages that seemed ultra-brave.
Okay, so Mom got me my own smart-phone,
now I can have fun when I’m home alone.
I can see the addiction to this thing,
I can finally buy myself some bling.
Oh wait, a text from Fluffy-Bell,
Tuesday’s play-date went really well.
“Girl, check out the new food site,
that tuna’s got sauce with every bite!
Oh hey, wait, I’m get’in a text,
yeah, it’s from that smexy tabby, Rex.
Ooh, ooh, he wants a play-date, too,
oh geez, what am I going to do?
Got to go girl and get some bling,
afterwards I’ll give you a ring.
I can’t let him see me in this old collar,
I don’t want him thinking I live in squalor.
Here’s one, it’s full of pink rhinestones,
I’m going to order it on my new smart-phone.
Oh wait, I can't find Mom’s credit card,
you know, web shopping’s awfully hard.
Now I’ll have to manipulate Mom;
bookmarking this site, I’ll leave my phone on.
She’ll check up on me and see what I want,
then, I’ll get a new collar to flaunt.
Yeah girl, it really does work,
Mom worships me, she’s no jerk.
I’m her “widdle-purrrdy-girl”,
I’m her BFF in this world!
Personification - Pets Talking Poetry Contest
Constance La France
6-5-2022
such a contemptible situation
a beautiful girl is dead
her friend texted while driving
mothers totally hating each other
two girls lives ruined now
one an angel of course
such a contemptible situation
a beautiful girl is dead
her friend texted while driving
mothers totally hating each other
two girls lives ruined now
one an angel of course
We pack each little box
Until it’s full of memories.
Unpack when we arrive each day.
Like spring, when daffodils are new.
We put ourselves inside each word,
Stuffing the tattered, and ragged edges
Of each memory with a lubricant of feeling.
Inside, each emotion pressing outward to be free,
Not fitting into such tiny boxes.
Reading the poets and trying to be like them.
Communicating in glorious ways;
Bending ears, Bringing tears,
Giving the gift of giving-in.
Suturing the fractured,
Making every moment whole,
An ecstasy of living.
Finding the glory in being.
A duty of selflessness,
The humility of altruism.
Impulses shared to enlighten,
Fan multitudes like prospered wheat,
Making bright the common direction
Of swaying flames.
A breeze of words that carries all baggage
Until we wake.
Then, In the morning, we return.
Unpack each captured vastness of feeling,
Let it breathe until an end arrives.
Then pack again and make them fit
Into these small containers we call words.
Faxing the texting words
Is now a fan out of sight
Not touching a hand
Creation of disappearance
Not sight or sound
Of human kind
Only touching the mind
Leaving the body untouched
Unable to feel reality
Thus, appearing as real
As a television show
Or a silent radio
Torn apart
Sights and sounds
Now only words
Separating the body
From the mind
An illusion of real life
As if we were
Action figures
Playing
A new game
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