Two hours with pay
To roam around town
Anything, to get away
This cube paints my frown

I used to do it just to get away
But now I am not so sure
Now I take,
                No I mean volunteer,
                                        My day
The one moment I can savour

Never thought pleasure would come
By giving a helping hand
Never thought a smile would be from
Helping those that life has left astrand

I travel the town for miles
Deliver the weekly meals
Return to work with a genuine smile
A frown, upside down, now heals


Well at least for a little while.

I was nomophobic,
A mobile addict,
I had no time for anyone,
Day and night I was glued to one.
As soon as I woke up,
I browsed through Whats App,
Photos,videos ,and juicy gossips,
Not to forget some useful tips.
With coffee,butter and jam,
I  switched to instagram,
I updated photos in latest style,
It took a while,
Soon it was time for lunch,
With the children a quick brunch,
And time to open Twitter,
My tweets were getting better,
I had a good fan following to the letter.
Tea and again Whats app,
A bite of a piece of cake or a chicken wrap.
Dinner and Facebook,
To the kitchen to have a quick look,
If the food had been prepared by the cook,
My mobile was my partner,
My relationships ceased to matter,
More important than my child was my charger,
When my mobile's battery was low,
Seeds of anxiety I would sow,
And when there was no connection,
I would sink into depression.
Something had to be done,
My addiction to lessen,
My husband sent me to a clinic,
Till I was no more an addict.

I embarked on a fairytale journey
Set sail on a sail of dreams
Moving ahead with the oars of imagination
It was all as if a
Mystic celebration!
Had my past memories as my companions
Looking forward to gaining some more
As I'd anchor to harbour
Of unknown wonders
I was to create
A flyover
To new such movers
Of my mundane things
But as I was sailing past
Things of the past
Seeing and absorbing
Things myriad
Gypsies,fairies
Dragons and whales
The jungleman
Aboard his flying monkey plane
His dreams
Of eating berries
Hearing the sweet
Jungle cuckoo
Sing
Did feel I
Also felt his bravery
Of facing and making
The mighty tiger
His friend
Could I?
Puppets various
Dancing to tunes
Junglee animals
Howling in merry
They didn't seem sorry
Perfumes and ice cream delights
Mountains and heaps of
Sweets
Oh my sweet tooth,oh
My craving heart
What not saw I
One of them I did pick
To be aboard with me
On my sail forever!
Forget how could I
Oh but what I see!
All that's good comes to an end
Out of my dreams
From nowhere
The nasty mobile rings
I come to reality
And attend the call
Oh will I
Forget those things
For once and for all!

When guests visit you,
Don't ask about their family,
Ask,"How is your mobile?
Is it doing well?
Has it got a new cover?
What about the speed of its internet server?"
Then inquire politely,
"Do you want to charge your mobile?"
It will bring tears to their eyes,
You have clenched a bonded relationship for life.
Admire their mobile with interest,
Like you would their kids.
Appreciate their what's app messages,
Their comments on Twitter and Face Book,
You will have a friend for life.
Last offer if they need your WiFi password,
Your friend will breakdown with
gratitude,
You will get the bestest hug ever.

young lassies near and far
were subjected to looking
at his personal bar

he'd stage the exhibits
on mobile phone devices
all those groinal tid-bits

exposing his wares
in a devil may care way
of indecency to the eyes
he'd frequently flay

on a particular poetry forum
the fellow can be found
advertizing his kit bag
so unedifyingly around

a sixty year old man
would in time be
getting a nab
for putting out there
his wayward
tab

somewhere inside
the Ohio state
law authorities
will pinpoint
the repugnant gate

Sitting in traditional wooden pews
back in the mid-2000s,
a guest priest from the heart of the Congo
delivered a homily in broken English
about how his country had been torn to shreds
by warlords who control that region's
vast and valuable mineral deposits.

As the priest spoke in gentle passion,
a sea of sympathetic white faces listened
to him describe the rapes and murders,
the poverty and oppression.
One middle-aged woman in a yellow dress near the front
quietly sobbed at the reminder of true suffering,
a torture greater than mere death.

Out of a sense of courtesy
or possible humble generosity,
the priest did not disclose the minerals
that had brought on such gluttonous violence
were the very elements that make our electronics
flash and glow as perpetual escapes.

Instead, the priest requested
we pray with him
for future mystical solutions
to immediate physical problems.

As we filed out of the church
the older woman who'd wept
discussed driving to the local mall.
Apparently, there'd been a sale on mobile phones.
The crisp spring breeze had dried our tears,
and the power of the almighty dollar
wiped away our curiosity
and our short-term memories.