...---...
...---.... ...---...
...---... ...---... ...---...
my frantic fingers tap the telegraph
tapping tentatively , taking time
to repeat the single word
...dot, dot, dot, dash, dash , dash, dot, dot, dot...
---
tapping away like a cricket with arthritis
sending my signals and sounds into the night...
...dot, dot, dot, dash, dash, dash, dot , dot , dot...
---
but the neighbourhood sleeps quietly
and no one cares for an arthritic cricket
singing its song into the endless radio silence...
because dots and dashes are nothing more than
humble beginnings in 96.09.21
and the life dashes by and flat-lines on
a marble stone
1996 - (pretty soon)
...---...
...---... ...---...
...---... ...---... ...---...
dot, dot, dash, dash, dash, dot, dot, dot
dot, dot, dot, Dash, Dash, Dash, DOT, DOT, DOT
dot, dot, Dot, DASH, DASH, DASH, DOT, DOT, DOT
DOT, DOT, DOT, DASH, DASH, DASH, DOT, DOT, DOT
DOT, DOT, DOT, DASH...-------------------------------------------------------
the drummers pack away their drums, the beat forever fades
the thunder stops to rumble, from now on only clear days
my finger stops its tapping, lies numb across the telegraph
and somewhere outside... and arthritic cricket...
turns silent from its wrath
and the dots and dashes ...
that's been beating all this time...
my hearts stops singing with them...
and ends with one flat line
WvWWvVvv-v-v---------------------------------------------------
This poem uses a lot of visual aids, onomatopoeia and metaphors... so enjoy