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Kewayne Wadley Nov 2018
Before I knew it.
I pressed send.
A long text meant to be erased.
Thought about,
Re-thought about.
I smiled before thinking about
The initial reply back.
My heart sunk.
Sick.
Constantly thinking.
The buzz of notification.
Exactly what to do when her face shows on my screen.
Exactly how to play off
The only voice,
The only face that mattered this time of night.
To be honest, I wasn't sure
What I expected to see.
Of course lying to myself.
My pinky underneath the phone
For support.
Waiting for reply.
A mental continuation
Bringing another thought to the message sent.
Fighting the urge to send Lol.
I sat almost a lifetime.
The same heart wrenching feeling.
The moment you realize you lost your phone.
Or my case.
A brief text denying all evidence of what stares at her nose.
Brightly lit.
Signifying what I saw
When she'd call, when she'd text.
That same delicious smile I'd heart over a million times.
All reserved for future reply.
Kewayne Wadley Oct 2018
This isn't a love that can be
Put on speaker phone.
We're far too silly for that.
Easily saying the first thing that
Comes to mind.
One moment to the next,
Stunned slience.
Phone etiquette thrown out the window.
This isn't a love that can be sat down.
Kept between an ear and a shoulder.
The amount of time it takes for someone to leave the room.
Conducted in civil manner.
Attempting not to shout,
Completely losing train of thought.
Not sure of validation,
Our voices raise a bit.
By now you should know we shouldn't have to limit ourselves like that.
Denying a freedom that connects us to whom we truly are.
Our quirks, general weirdness.
The crazy looks from those around.
The laughs that get funnier each moment that passes.
By now you should know that we are the complete definition of crazy.
Often appearing in person,
Before one of us can hang up.
Laughing hysterically,
Continuing the conversation
At any given time or place.
This definately isn't a love that
Can be placed on speaker phone
If we have to applogize for what we say.
Afraid to be who we really are.
Isolated from who we truly are
Francie Lynch Sep 2018
I've used them on my windows
To see the clear outside,
If I read the Op-eds,
I shudder, shuttered and hide.

I've spread them 'neath my plates and cups,
My shelves all neat and tidy;
But the headlines made it clear to me
My glass is more half empty.

They had a place in the litter box
For **** to scratch and squat;
I laid them round my garden plants,
They made fine insect traps.
Rolled and twirled they'd start a fire,
I could fold them into hats.
They cleaned the grease from BBQs,
And they're safe to pick up glass.
Crumple them for packaging,
They work as school book covers;
Add water and some flour,
To shape papier mache lovers.
Fold seeds in them to germinate,
Then use them for compost;
There's many ways to employ
Your Times and local Post.

But I won't subscribe to Dailies
For the felling of our trees;
And yet I miss my papers,
And the ways they worked for me.
But when enthroned,
You'll hear me grouse,
There's no **** paper in this ****-house.

My cell works well to scroll and swipe,
But it's only good for a virtual wipe.
Joey fonseca Aug 2018
We allow the wicked run
Kills us rather slow
Through the lights behind our thumbs
Haiku
Kewayne Wadley May 2018
In my mind
Seeing you was the perfect form of communication.
To watch the expression of depth.
Every wrinkle that crinkles the side of your nose.
The sentiment grown from standing so close.
Eyes grown in anticipation.
Every depth expressed.
Explored until we're tired.
In my mind
seeing you was the perfect form of communication.
It's only so much to do behind the screens of phones.
The customization of emojis plastered on blank screen.
A temporary thrill that we enact before actual contact.
In my mind we restrict too much of ourselves with the press of a button.
Cheeks spread loose, folds undistracted by the moment where we ourselves are drawn to life
By what we anticipate most.
Without need to talk as much as we can before an abrupt end.
To consider you without call waiting or the awkward feeling of having to call you back.
Malicious moments before the call actually goes through
The introduction of physical smile.
Separately from the window of a phone
Leaving more room for availability
Kewayne Wadley Mar 2018
To a point of trust.
There is no such barrier as insecurity.
In over one hundred pictures you are free to do as you please.
Intuition doesn't lie.
A sudden sensation that strikes out the blue.
Theres no need for passwords or indiscreet glances.
A rare case trust comes into question.
A certain closure that adjusts to a overwhelming thought.
A sudden reach or pull confirms this serious accusation.
Things change.
A subtle glance to remember the way things use to be.
In over one hundred different pictures I witnessed your body language begin to change.
In over one hundred different ways you hid pieces of yourself behind a password.
In a world where we are free to do as we please.
You decided to hide yourself.
Second guessing that truth would never find the light.
Appearing against the phone of a random stranger.
Another secret.
A light to peek through the crevice
Jeff Gaines Feb 2018
This is my only and first ever poem
that I did scribe upon my phone.

A pal of mine does it, does it with ease.
She makes it look easy, just like a breeze.

But it's harder for me, with my thumbs of ham.
I prefer full-sized keyboards, as that's who I am.

Typing and retyping and then wrestling the spellchecker.
If I tried this while in my car, I would surely need a wrecker!

Squinting, so that I don't have to strain my eyes.
To say that I'm enjoying this, would be nothing less than lies.

Well there you have it, I'm finally done.
I'm gonna pass on this foolishness ... and let her have all the fun.
NEVER again.
I'll write it in Sharpie on my arm first!
I've always >hated< texting.
Kewayne Wadley Feb 2018
And when ever I reach down everything is OK.
A jingle of my keys, pocket change.
And there you are.
I'd have a heart attack if I were to reach down and you weren't there.
I don't know what I'd do.
Back tracking every step. Doubling back every where I've been.
Pacing my breath in attempt not to panic
I know it's an unhealthy dependency but face it.
You are a part of my everyday walkabout.
Whether it's something that I need to know or randomly bored.
You always put a smile on my face.
Although some news I'd rather not know. You tell me in a way that I'll understand and I appreciate that.
Searching for a smile pure and humble.
A small print made large. Easier on the eyes.
You teach me things that I'd never think to look for.
Random searches that tie into the things I don't know that I need.
Me sitting in front of you face to face.
Our conversations spanning for hours at a time.
I know at times you need to recharge your batteries and I try to let you be.
But even when your sleep you don't mind waking up and keeping me company.
Even if it's just a second
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
supermoon!
super achievement!

we finally look away
from our cell phones...

three...
two..
one.

back to our
prolonged
eclipses...
Josephine Zecena Nov 2017
I clench my fist tight.
So dearly trying not to cave in and dial, but the device taunts me.
That Pandora's box full of the emotions, images, and echoes that drench me like rain.

It seems the pages have run out.
Every excuse, every apology, every sweet nothing drained like the battery on my phone due to the over use to distract me from you.

You, sitting there on your shelf.
With your legs dangling and hitting my face. Swelling my eyes and lips shut as you watch my greatest regrets play repeatedly in my mind.
Making me unrecognizable to those around me now.

This is who I've become.
A silent shell filled with the echoes of your laughs and smiles.  
With only melancholy music to comfort me.
The world around me only now visible through rain soaked glasses.
Smooth jazz by Coleman Hawkins as it rains outside my window is the only thing that brings me comfort. The only realm I find my weary soul comforted by.
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