My Phone And I #2

My wife and kids are not too pleased

I spend too much time on my phone

They say I should get some exercise

I ask them to leave me alone

Sophie thinks I don’t hold her anymore

I only hold my phone

If I don’t change my ways

In the streets she’ll have me thrown

She thinks whenever we go out

I talk more to my phone

I correct her on that point

I do the same at home

The kids are more threatening

They plan to steal my phone

Hide it in some corner

I shall forever be unknown

I have my own plans so

They never mess with my phone

If they’ll ever steal it

In the streets I’ll have them thrown

My wife and kids are not too pleased

I spend too much time on my phone

They say I should get some exercise

In the streets I have them thrown

Advertisements

84 thoughts on “My Phone And I #2

  1. Sometimes a phone is a great escape when you’re feeling really low. My partner doesn’t understand it helps my mental health, scrolling through Facebook or playing jigsaw puzzles on my phone, which I’m sure is also the case with you, maybe not the Facebook and jigsaw, but using your phone as an escape. No advice, just wanted to share that I understand.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Your poetry is very well written and inspring. I thought you could give me some advice and help me improve by checking out my page. Also of you would share my blog because i’m just starting out that would be a huge help, but if not atleast leave me some constructive criticism. Thank you!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. You might get a kick out of this poem…(if it fits)

    The Bubble People

    truthtable@aol.com
    @August 27, 2001

    And there are little blue bubbles
    All around their heads.
    At least,
    Thatโ€™s the way I see it.
    They go swizzing down the highway,
    Weaving slightly,
    Unaware,
    Unaware,
    That they are going 35 or 85 in a 65 zone.
    Inside the little blue bubble,
    Stocks are being bought and sold.
    Their heads lean thoughtfully to the left
    Their left hand bracing the Nokia
    And blocking their view of passing cars
    And the beautiful scenery that is
    No doubt one reason they chose to live
    In such an expensive place as Westchester.
    Inside the little blue bubble,
    Business is being transacted —
    Serious stuff —
    Money changes hands.
    And hopefully, more than their share
    Rubs off on their palms like dried green mold.
    If enough little scraplings of green powder
    Are heaped together,
    The man in the little blue bubble can buy —
    What?
    Perhaps a better beeper, phone, or larger car.
    In the park,
    The children come and go,
    Talking of Mike and Angelo;
    Looking perhaps for the lame balloonman.
    But the woman in the little blue bubble
    Doesnโ€™t see or hear them;
    Turns her head and puts a finger in her ear,
    The better to block the whiz of whirring skaters.
    Thereโ€™s a deal on the line.
    Thereโ€™s money to be made.
    She doesnโ€™t hear the bees whine,
    Doesnโ€™t feel the elm shade.
    And the spring mischief in me paints a sudden vision:
    I could go and tap her on the shoulder,
    Dance her off her feet and back to life
    In this sunny day park of now.
    My eyes dart to her face, searching,
    But it is lost —
    Lost behind the foggy blue bubble.
    Before I built a wall…โ€ I mutter
    And stroll back slowly the way I came.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.