***


On The Phone


When it comes you will be gone
torn to bite sized pieces by commercial concerns
as nameless and unknown as the marrow in your bones
stoned by cypher totem headed token mouthed promises
stung to death by strings attached to lures that bait the fall
away alone inside the hidden eye you wait and watch
feel the drumbeats hail like rain frozen in your craw
sink beneath a weight of nameless grief stricken in stone
fear nothing but the screen that peers like a world within
some weirdly sentient telephone
A world of broken tones when it comes you will be gone.



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 674 times
Written on 2013-05-20 at 04:25

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Commentally Ill
ah yes, i know the feeling. sometimes my in-laws call, too.
2013-05-21



Wrong number for Yhe Salon? :>/
There's a terrible foreboding here, physically and mentally painful. Lines such as the fourth and fifth let fly my imagination and my own telephone hatches potential for misadventure. Fortunately I had a pleasant conversation with a friend earlier, so it too is my friend... for now...
Applause!
2013-05-20



I've read it and read it again and then read it again. I'm just not getting a clear idea of what you're expressing here, unless it's missing an important phone call? Lol, I'm feeling particularly stupid with that guess.
2013-05-20