"beeped" poems
You smiled at me; so mind blowing
It always ran inside my head;
Each day and night when we're together,
You never failed me; you gave me that smile
again as I expected.
But your phone beeped once, then twice, then thrice
I saw you smiling but a bit different
My heart sank to the ground,
I **** was jealous.
Your smile was a bit different,
More meaningful and cuter,
You never gave that to me,
Yes, you never did.
You never did.
Later I found out, it was from your girlfriend.
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 3:11 PM UTC
my phone beeped
in an almost deserted train compartment.
my boss,
'where have you reached?'
I sighed and replied,
'should reach in 5'
(would reach in 20)
same old dance
to the tune of corporate slavery.
a sharp sound,
I looked up.
the sound dissolved
into a fit of giggles.
a group of kids
playing around, teasing,
their mother close by;
a hawker, selling trinkets in the train.
it looked so natural.
a working mum
looking after her kids while on the job
(doesn't work that way does it?
guess they didn't have anywhere safe
without her)
I couldn't look away.
it was such a sight...
torn, tattered clothes
dirt and mud all over
and those innocent giggles;
it didn't add up.
I was tired, aching,
infatuating about sleep;
feet bleeding in killer heels,
rushing around without purpose,
forced into an exploitative overtime job
by myself; frustrated,
trying to keep up with society.
the little family
calm, collected;
torn, tattered smiles held with grace,
facing their exploitative poverty
with innocent mischief and honest labour.
confused,
I had a thought:
that's the life they've known,
this is the life I've known.
we fit in our lives...
differently?
no...
we fit in different lives in the same way.
I struggle she struggles,
we both have good bad days.
I didn't realize I was smiling
till she smiled back.
I bought something
and got off at the next stop,
wishing she has more good days than bad
and the kids keep their giggles
a little longer than they can..
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
A CLOWN IS...
A ~ one of a kind
C ~ CRAZY Clown
L ~ LAZY Clown
O ~ ORNERY or FUNNY Clown
W ~ WHITEFACED Clown
N ~ NONSENSICAL Clown
A Clown can make one happy
A Clown can look very sad
A Clown can be called Apple Annie
And wear an Apple on her head.
A Clown comes with many names
It depends on who they are.
There was a Hobo Clown named Emmett Kelly, Jr.
Who always made me sad,
for he wore old rags, and walked real slow,
But he wasn't very scary, for that I was real glad.
And then there was BOZO the clown
Whose horn he beeped, and beeped and beeped
At least he was a funny Clown,
He never wore a frown.
The scary one was Penneywise the dancing Clown
From the movie IT...
He was the scariest Clown I ever saw
Fingers real long, and he lived in a sewer.
Now since I love dancing, one would
think he was my favorite...for he was
called the dancing Clown.
But when he climbed out of the sewer,
and hid behind the doors,
Let me tell you folks,
I wasn't watching any more...
But let me add my favorite Clown
Her name is Polka Dot...
She's been my friend for 60 years
She keeps me laughing, even when
she's not in costume...
Polka Dot's real name is Ginney Jean
She IS A CLOWN my favorite kind of friend.
by ~ judy
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
ABSOLUT 0!
the greedy trees
liked to bleed the green
to spite the leaves.
they seem to be
pretty pleased by
believing in a
definitive middle.
then **** soon
flew off the richter
cause it wasn't so simple,
1 to 3 easy.
when the police
beeped the gentry,
oil already leaked
on the scene
even though
hunting season
was ending.
&seeding; season
pleaded for
beginning
& forgiveness
for bearing false witness
to a new system called
self sufficience.
take one leave one
break one mean one
make one be one
of what.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 8:36 PM UTC
The moment I turned the rotary dial
I freed all inhibitions
Finally, I can speak
But at the other end of the line
No ringing rang
Just busy tones beeped
I sighed
I thought we were connected by telephone wires
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
The monitor slowly beeped
You sighed your last breath
The heart I had loved so dearly
Was still with no beat.
A eight year old girl sat on the floor
Her heart was heavy
She knew you had gone.
Gone to the gates of heaven to be
With the woman you let go so long ago.
God let her down,
She lost her faith
The man she called Grandad
Was taken away.
You lived.
You loved.
You fought the greatest fight
But grew tired.
Now, your face is blurred
Your smell is gone
Your voice is silent
But your hard to forget.
You thought me lessons
I still live today.
My Grandad
My friend.
Oh why were you taken away .
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
Her silk skinned body,
Scented so good.
Shaped like an hourglass,
As in-front she stood.
I loved her whisper,
As her curves, I touched.
She moaned and moaned,
As her arms, I clutched.
I lifted her chin,
And in her lips,I dipped.
She was so close,
That our bodies just slipped.
She tore my shirt,
As she laid on my chest.
She kissed my neck,
As I tongued her breast.
I slipped her skirt,
When she carressed my spine.
She clenched my body,
When her legs were mine.
She took me in,
When I pushed her deep.
Her legs hugged me,
Forced me to leap.
Sweat bathed us,
But still we were in.
As I streamed inside her,
She scratched my skin.
There were smiles,
After our moans.
Beeped our hearts,
When stopped our bones.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 2:40 PM UTC
The last time I wore a suit was
my high school prom. A
grateful world has left me,
without funerals to attend.
The last time I wore a jonny,
I danced the wind in dad's room.
Machines that beeped and whirred
were somehow keeping him alive.
When I finally picked the phone up,
we'd already talked, two hours.
The person, your disease has curtained,
read my poems for the camera.
The last time we got high, I wanted you
to hear that Strokes song, and
listen to you list objections, to our
sharing a kiss.
I'll take a dare, and tell the truth
to you, over phenomenal music and
exhaust. I'll be desperate if you promise
to stay as vulnerable as you know how to be.
The last time we took the car together,
I remember you weren't so afraid.
The next time you try being alone with me
I'll insist I shouldn't be driving.
The last few times I'd felt brave enough,
but courage never serves me. If the
Queen's decided not-to, it's as
sure as our demise is.
And all-Earth smells like a lake town,
hurts, just like a headache, can't get
all the ink-out, blinking
at the sky.
The last time I felt so alive we
were driving some way, that you
realized, halfway-there, you're
sick-of.
On a runaway ride out from trouble
the passenger seat always
seems to be
empty.
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 6:48 PM UTC
With lights in the sky
And cheer in my heart,
A drink in my hand,
A toast to the past
Treasure my memories;
Some triumphs were lost,
Now facing forward
But never forgot
I look to the future,
This one is for me
Year TWENTY-THIRTEEN
For wisdom and glee
Laid out before me
Adventures to come,
With laughter and smiles
I'll drink from the sun
Shining so brightly
Three weeks passed - still pleased,
Work arrange training,
One seat kept for me
First Aid Course progressed;
I wished to forget
The news I received
Before last years test...
(...As irony leaped
'Twas taught to save lives,
My mobile had beeped
With news my friend died
The shock had set in
I had to pull through,
Third day of the course
The test was now due
I pulled it together
My shakiness passed
I saved Annie's 'life'
I gave 'CPR'
I bandaged a 'cut'
I tended her knee,
I showed them I could
Help competently
I passed with "Well done"
But my heart broke in two,
Inside I was numb)
Old memories! Not new....
So, I focus today
With smile on my face,
DEFIBRILLATOR-
It's time to embrace!
I wait in the queue
Examined to be...
Bells chime, the phone rings,
My mum looks at me
(We work together)
She speaks to our Boss
"Can Karen go next?"
Her voice almost lost
I ask her "What's up?"
She said "It's bad news,
Was Grandad who called,
About your Nan Sue..."
She's hours to live
We must get there fast
But first you must go
And start Annie's heart!
© Karen L Hamilton, 2013
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 9:33 PM UTC
The third day of sitting vigil.
He lay so still,
Eyes closed,
Shallow breathing.
How small and in repose he looked.
His skin taunt and sunken,
So pale and grey.
Long had I loved and respected
This grown ancient appearing face,
Now pain and sickness changed.
His hands barely covered,
With a thin veneer of grey skin.
The finger bones so plainly visible.
Holding his hand, it felt ice cold.
I had watched some men die,
Understood how sudden,
Death could come.
Eyes open and voice speaking,
And a second later, they were gone.
An empty shell of what they had been.
For days now family and friends,
Came and went,
Seeing no change,
Tired or bored,
Needing Nicotine,
Or food left that room.
And yet I stayed,
Vowing to myself,
That he should not die alone,
To be there to the end.
He had fought the good fight,
Fending off the inevitable,
Brave and stubborn was who he was.
The results of all that,
Turned his departure into a
Protracted reluctant journey.
He had not opened his eyes
Nor said a word in days.
Still once in a while a shallow
Breathe was taken,
And the Life Monitor,
Beeped and abated.
Alone in the room,
I said my goodbyes,
Professed my love
and kissed his forehead.
He stirred and weakly,
Opened his eyes,
The most he could offer in reply.
His eye lids fluttered twice and
One last breath was audibly taken.
74 years of living and just like that,
My Father’s worldly existence ended.
The Heart Monitor toned,
A continuous flat line death song.
I reached up and unplugged it.
All these years later,
In my mind I can still hear it.
How brief and fleeting,
This gift of life,
Never to be taken for granted.
To a young person 74 years seems
like forever, take it from me, it is not.
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
You touched me on the shoulder
as you ran quickly by on your phone.
I was in such a hurry
to climb those jenga stairs
that I didn't realize it was you,
until I saw that tiny body
and that frenzy of tousled blond hair
swishing in the wind.
I turned around and ran
to you,
as you walked away.
I ran to you
and grabbed your arm.
"Don't touch me," you said.
Diamonds falling from your eyes,
I picked at them with my pinky fingernail,
searching for the loam beneath.
"Where've you been?" I yelled.
"You don't know what's happened to me!" You yelled,
and you lifted your shirt and felt at a pink scar;
a trench in your belly,
a wound that I had infected.
People stared,
but I just wanted to yell,
there was so much yelling inside of me.
I yelled like a lover yells,
yelled with my heart.
The yell sounded like this:
"Can I hold you one last time?
I just want to hold you," I said,
like a loon,
but it was the only thing
I ever wanted.
To hold all of you
in one moment.
And so you came to me,
and let me hold you a while.
but the skin between us
was better for separating,
and I told you
to call me if you needed me,
even though I knew you never would.
And you walked away,
that tiny body of circling movement
and head full of giant clams
with their swirling pink pearls
moving farther and farther.
Until you were in the distance
and invincible.
Cyclists whizzed by,
phones beeped onward,
taxis rode highways of clouds
beneath the bridge,
and I thrummed quietly,
picking at the diamonds in my hands,
searching for the loam
that I could put into the planters,
food for the flowers
I had always wanted you to see.
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 9:44 AM UTC
How do you deny a girl...
A girl who plays the right tricks,
and knows how many licks
it takes to get to the center of what it is to feel like to be a
MAN.
Who knows and understands, how to make him think with his Man-hood.
And though he thought he never would,
she took before he answered
knowing he was never really going to say no....
who was going to know?
She teased and laid him down,
reminding him and showing him around;
the skin and flesh he's toured before,
and incase he's forgotten she'll show him some more.
Now the sun is up
and he's coming down,
his briefs hang low and that *** goddess;
with the golden glow...
she's asleep and now,
he knows the extent of his sin.
He has gone too far, and as she awakes he heads to the car.
Its over, its denial.
She's gone and she leaves tomorrow.
on the plane she'll take the memory far away.
There's a witness! There's a witness!
There's a witness to their crime
and within weeks of time it will turn her stomach;
make her ill,
make her run.
Now she hates the the sight of every mornings sun.
Every new day brought more movement and more sickness.
That call, one call.
What did she say?
Uttered some words but it all went gray.
All he saw was HER.
What he heard nearly deafened him, his crime is now expecting
and as though it was strictly divine his phone beeped 2 times
and his wife was on the other line.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC
"No problem, ma'am."
the cash registers beeped and employees and customers chattered like a far off stream
that click
the one that you feel when you turn off the conveyor belt that brings me the groceries
always feels like i'm saying goodbye too early
i like my job a little too much i think
stepping away from the register, i asked her
"ma'am would you like me to push the cart for you?"
thankfully she said yes.
i like pushing carts because it gives me something to do with my arms
and then i dont have to swing them around like an awkward
neanderthal
small talk
its difficult for me.
my thoughts drifted to school
i had an assignment due in a couple days. i need to work on that later i tell myself
they can never remember where they park
every time i quietly chuckle to myself
how could anyone forget?
we arrive at the car
a little red thing
i **** at cars.
"did you want everything in the trunk?"
routine assistance.
heavy items first, eggs and bread on top or in the front seat.
finished
"ok ma'am, anything else i can do for you today?"
i could already hear her answer. either some sort of joke, or just a graceful no.
i was wrong though.
"just spread the kindness" she said.
Apr 10, 2010
Apr 10, 2010 at 1:17 AM UTC
The machines beeped
in time with my heart
which was getting
faster
by the minute.
It was actually
sending me messages
to leave this place.
The nurse took
my blood
but I don't even remember
the needle going in.
Too bad
they won't find
what's infected
my mind.
Mar 23, 2011
Mar 23, 2011 at 1:34 PM UTC
Before my mum died, I never really took naps.
Couldn’t really understand it,
there was so much else you could do.
But then she died,
and it was just before midday
and I realised -
there’s so much day left.
It stretched on and on in front of me,
hours and hours of this same day,
still waiting.
So I went upstairs,
I told the people that needed to know,
and I went away for a while.
I woke back up in time for an evening meal
with an extended family filled with love
and a sister returned from work
and a phone beeped full of support.
And it’s been two years,
and the days stretch on
and still, almost every day now, I go away for a wee while.
Skip just a little bit,
every day.
I wonder if I should stop
Would my mum approve?
Probably not.
Maybe I’ll try tomorrow,
but still,
it’s late in the evening now.
Time to go to sleep,
Goodnight
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 5:06 PM UTC
You handed me your heart and I held it
felt it, squeezed it through my fingers
staring lingers, that's the ringer
it kept time once, pendulum swinging
in metric, you were electric
ten ticks for every tock
it was a shock to see you waste away
tumbling like a lock, in decay
gave it up on Christmas Day
filled my stockings with trinkets
then meshed with the machines
that beeped and kept your time
ten ticks for every tock
I sat beside your bed,
ate vanilla bean ice cream and
stared at the sea foam green ceiling
and counted the time between beeps
ten, ten, then eleven, slowing down
it wasn't in my head, the nurses
said it was routine, a regression to the mean
but it was your heart that was routine
keeping time safe
but then your eyes were empty
and I could see interplanetary space
in between the accordion regulating
your breathing's pace
then the beeping ceased
and where once I was with a man in a bed
in a room with machines and statues of saints
peering down with stoic grace,
I was then alone.
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 8:26 PM UTC
Exalted as it was, she couldn't help but stare at the sunlight that dramatically kissed the ocean waters; the majestic sky that boastfully displayed its vivid million hues; the perennial water that compassionately became home to a billion creatures; the vibrant fishes that danced and sang, jumped and swirled. The scene enraptured her mind. It was as if she had consumed a bottle of a 1964 scotch. It was as if she was given a psychedelic drug to catch a glimpse of an aesthetically blissful scene.
Entangled in the cobweb of tranquil ephemera, she opened her arms to embrace the beauty she saw. The realisation she acquired and the one she hoped to acquire were like chalk and cheese. There, at that moment, she woke up with drool on her face and pillow in her arms. The alarm clock beeped '6AM', and the magical world she was in, bid adieu to her.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 3:17 AM UTC
*You missed a call from the kindness you dumped because of hurt
she wants you two to reconcile and have a fresh start
and from the lad you consider your greatest adversary
who thinks making up would heal your vile and misery
you missed a call from the fair lass you ignore, who feels you were wrong
running after those who wouldn't love you,to places you don't belong
the lady you were afraid to approach yet perfectly suited your future wife
you missed a call from that road you avoided because it was long
and took the fatal short cut, and from your conscience that urged you to be strong
you missed an important call from the shaky bridge to a better life
a vital call from the risk you were afraid of taking
and your real self you were forsaking while living a life you are faking
Even hope beeped, I think she wanted to find out why you embraced despair,
gave it room in your melancholy filled soul adulterated by toxic air
you missed a call from your sixth sense that wants you to quit liquor
for you were deafened by the loud music of your soothing ego
you have an email from prosperity but you only responded to poverty
esteem says she can be your drug if you have the right dosage
and persistence saw you online albeit you didn't reply to her Whatsapp message
your ability's a rocket shooting against all odds into space
and sky's not the limit but stagnation of your attitude and pace
if you hadn't missed it,you wouldn't feel gravity's grip on your lace
blessings texted you asking for reasons why you insist you are cursed
even your future called whilst you were breathlessly running after your past
you missed a call from inspiration,she wanted to say you can
no one can do it like you do, she says you are the only one
you missed a call from the life you want to live
she wanted you to know her number,you can reach her if you believe*
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
Machines beeped
Monitoring your life
Every beat, body weak
Your heart struggled to keep you alive
This shouldn't come as a shock
We've known for months
I knew you weren't here anymore
Simply existing physically
Your body wiped clean of all mental capability
Like an ocean tide batters the shore, you were diminishing
Until there was nothing else to take
Reminiscing back to the signs we ignored foolishly
Never thinking it was more than a slight lapse of memory
From a call to confirm your location
To forgetting the youngest generation
Temporary confusion faded to permanent loss
I wondered
As you laid unconscious
The mask on your face providing oxygen
If you could hear me
Were you silently screaming for me to shut up so you could rest
Knowing you , you were concerned with my school and why I was at the hospital instead
Did you remember my name?
Could you conjure up my face?
Behind those delicate eyelids that hadn't done more than fluttered in days?
Remember reading to me as I sat on your knee?
How we'd admire nature with a hand full of bird seed?
I though I'd accepted the fact you were gone
When we first suspected the disease
The one I wish was never created, never existed, that erased my existence from your mind indefinitely
As I stared at your face, peacefully sedated, I felt a twinge of pain
How is it this woman I knew to be so strong
Might as well have had fragile stamped on her face
A being so loving
Was now so faint
Like a painting left in the rain
Your colors had began to fade
Until they were white
White like the sheets, the walls, and the floor
The absence of life that exists behind hospital doors
Your body slowly tried to quit
Hard headed as always . You said not yet
So frail you held on to the little life you had left
Until Heaven loosened your hold
I find solace knowing you're in a better place
Where you can remember loved one's names
Watching over us in the paths we take
I'm resigned now to the fact you had to go
But as long as you could
You made God wait
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 7:24 PM UTC
I'm not sure who to address this letter to, myself or my ex lover...
I've always had this love affair with self destruction. As if life wasn't already difficult enough, I constantly sought out my own blend of vices and chaos to add to the mix. Perhaps something inside me has always been beautifully broken, disastrously unrepairable; so I've endlessly searched for things, places, and people that either were damaged themselves or caused further destruction. It made me feel closer to normal.
Every relationship I had was one I knew was doomed from the beginning. Yet, I chased after them anyway, running after the pain I knew would come. It was almost as if there was a little red button, above certain people or right before I did something incredibly stupid, that screamed and beeped and flashed "DO NOT TOUCH. MUTUAL DESTRUCTION ENSURED." Obviously, I always pressed the button.
While I admit I have caused more people undeserved pain than I care to think about, I should clarify it was never about hurting you. I think somehow I innately understood whatever I was about to do would blow up in my face, send shrapnel ripping through my already wrecked body; and that was what I craved. I was and am addicted to destruction.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 12:57 AM UTC
__Please call me back,__
written message in the network's text. I don't have
enough airtime; so I'll borrow some. Knowing it's
not the best—in the fact of being underpaid.
I haven't been paid this month, so it's still a dream
of moving house. The funds are never enough,
but just tuck shop money, and a gin allowance for a
couple laughs.
But I'll call you soon.
_7.50,_ left in my bank account. Maybe I could
pull out six to make the call. __Insufficient funds to
complete this transaction,__ the screen read in bold.
Feeling insufficient, sufficiently to say I've worked my due.
If I had a girlfriend; which place could I take her to,
and what would we do? As I'm broke and empty on funds
and dreams in my pocket. While driving past the mansions
of my two bosses.
But I'll call you soon.
I'm running out of rhymes, without any airtime
to Google new ones on Rhymezone. So I'm just
staring at the phone, hoping you make the repeating call.
I missed it the first time you beeped me, knowing I was
feeling tearful in my room alone. I must have been so focused
on staring at the pictures on the wall, to hear your call.
But I'll call you soon.
As both of my lines have pending debts, and I'm not
keen on borrowing money to have debts with friends.
But in the end—your fun size pride rarely cares.
Still the anxiety of not making an effort to call back,
pushes a reason to swear. To pull my hairs, struggling
on why—why I can't return your call. As if I don't care
at all.
But I do; I'm just fighting to call you soon. Unfortunately
in the end; I never had the chance to support you my
friend. I never returned that call, and it's doing in my head.
It's an unfortunate one missed call.
Jul 30, 2022
Jul 30, 2022 at 4:22 PM UTC
Our garden was spirals of green - Squeeze-through bean tunnels rigged with bee stings, skinny mud paths that grazed knees and bloodied hand-heels when it rained. The field was neat rows of gold - Wide tracks made-good with stone, sipped dry by birch and tall oak. Peacocks and emperors flickered, fritillary swooned to a stop on damp skin - Ragged commas were caught breaths in bramble and …I listened... to Old-Man-Brown - snoring and mythical, to the click-click of chopped veg, to kids playing, to men coming home.
I ran, scrambled the bank, grabbed hold of chain-link, crashed into the garden. I knelt by the pen, let dogs lick my hands, gave armfuls of long grass to rabbits. I danced between chickens, beeped back at quails and avoided wry-smiley ferrets. I made it back before Mum needed to yell, shouted out, swirled my limbs clean from the barrel - Excited because, in a couple of weeks it’d be teeming with coppery fish and I’d give them ant-eggs and worms. I shoved open the door, brushed past dead things. That’s what we did - fed them until it was time.
Oct 10, 2022
Oct 10, 2022 at 4:25 PM UTC