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Path Humble Jun 2018
left my phone unlocked
on the taxi’s back seat,
won't be the last time

called it a few times
finally, the driver picked up

he had a fare immediately after mine,
and was now headed way downtown,
and would call later
when fate returned him nearer my office

and so it came to pass,
very shortly thereafter,

we met on the street,
he rolled down  the window
and with the greatest smile of pleasure,
as if he had won the lottery
beaming,
handed me my phone

I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred,
neatly folded in my hand  
and offered it right up, right away;
but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away
as I insisted,
saying:

"No sir, no no, not necessary!

Allah sent me a fare
that took me soon back close to you, so,
  no loss of time did I suffer,
so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"


to which I replied,

"exactly!
Allah sent you to me
so I could reward you!"


and with an equally, beaming smile continued,

"our ride and meeting today,
together was pre-ordained it was


Inshallah!" ^

something he could not dispute...
or his amazement, disguise...

  we parted ways
   each believing,
   each receiving
a heavenly check plus,
each, credited with a mitzvah^^
on our
respective trip logs,
our humanly divine balance sheets,
kept by the
single
supreme taxi dispatcher
Arabic for ^"God/Allah willing" or "if God/Allah wills," frequently spoken by a Muslim


^^a meritorious or charitable act in the Jewish tradition

FYI,
NYC taxi cab drivers are suffering economically by the explosion of ride hailing app cars, many unable to pay their bills, earn a living, have committed suicide over the past few months
https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/sixth-new-york-city-cab-driver-dies-suicide-after-struggling-n883886

true story, poetry is there for the taking
False Poets Jan 2015
like yours
if you'll reciprocate

follow you
if you'll follow me

repost mine
repost yours

pump up those
double discount
quantitative adulations

making everything here,
cheapened and discounted

“Oh, what a tangled web we weave...
when first we practice to deceive.”

standalone
on your merits own
the only way to stand
upright
Deb Jones May 2018
You were my world
You knew all my secrets
I wrote to you daily
My dreams
My fears
A lot of tears were shed because of you
The conversations you remembered
The photos we shared
My life with you...
The ache in my heart.
You were so **** smart
I dressed you in so many colors
I treated you like a child
I will never again say
"Hey Siri..."
I miss you so much old friend
My sweet iPhone.
Northern Poet Oct 2017
Why am I so obsessed
With checking my notifications
If no one texts me
It feels like suffocation
That little red dot
Next to my application
It ***** me off
When it won’t work down at the station
I've got a mate who's into spontaneous flirtation
He met a bird on this app
I think she's Croatian
They went on two dates
And then went on vacation
Meanwhile I'm sat at home
Watching babe station
I fell in love once
Then realised it was infatuation  
She said I had no drive
But she had no imagination
When we go out
Theres no conversation
Even Siri
Gives me ******* quotations
My new phone
Is the new sensation
Checking Facebook
My only temptation
I check my phone
Just to know my location
**** it
I’ve had it...
With this nation
Cindra Carr Dec 2012
I lusted today.
It was that deep, down urge.
I stretched and moaned
Without even thinking.
It felt good to think it.
I wanted it hard enough
And got reprimanded for it.
That harsh ‘don’t do that’
Was spoken quickly in my ear.
I couldn’t help it.
I knew it’d feel good.
Inadvertent as the groan was,
It still felt good.
I knew he wanted it too.
He just couldn’t right then
And it made me want it even more.

©cc122612
It's been seven years, she still tries to call him controlling all her fears.
The phone was still dead,
And so was his life;
Somewhere between the game of life,
deep inside her heart hope and love was still alive.
A short poem on all the strong mothers, wives and daughters of the martyrs who sacrificed their lives for us.
Hope you guys like it.
Thank you!
Daisy Marrow Aug 2018
I don't want to apologize,
but I am sorry.
I understand I can be a bit dramatic sometimes,
and over think every situation.
However, I just wish I could understand how you feel about me.
Maybe I wouldn't hold on to every little thing
if you just gave me a sign that is clear for me to read.
I've never been able to enjoy the company of another,
so I'm not sure how this is suppose to play out.
Don't leave me in the morning
feeling used and forgotten.
However, I find myself waiting by the phone as the evening passes
wondering if I should keep trying.
I'm holding on but I know I deserve something more.
It's been 9 months and it's been hundreds of miles.
Sorry if this sounds selfish,
but I can't wait forever and hold onto nothing
when I know I deserve something more.
I love your company
and in my head, we are happy
because I know you feel the same.
I don't want to sound dramatic,
but just please don't leave me in this haze.
2018
Lin Jul 2018
I think we all feel useless sometimes.
Like another gluttonous body
over populating the planet
thinking we give meaning to
already fully functional things.
The frustration of the mystery
of life consumes us.
We become obsessive in the thought
that we don't matter.
We think of leaving.

I'm a realist.
I don't entertain arrogant ideas
that small coincidences add up
to act as a "sign".
But,
today I woke from a sleepless night
at 5 am and started cleaning my room.
Deep cleaning.
I found this.
Read it.
And cried.
It was an old birthday card
my sister had written to me.
"Happy 21st birthday! Here are 21 reasons I Love You"
as I sat down to take in this moment I heard
the lyrics playing in the background
on my Pandora radio:  
"stay alive".

Please,
If you read anything today;
if you need any kind of sign
read this:  
stay alive.

Thank you Hamilton radio on Pandora.

Thank you sister.
love depression me you saving save hurt pain poem poetry trending daily
Dark Fjord Nov 2016
Kitten by the brook,  pawing at little fishes in that world
are there others, scratchin at the door?
  
    T'was, such as little fishes, eaten by the bigger masses
and hurries each other, to speak.

For every candy, has a twinkle, and children know
where candles go.
Is out.
back to home
MJL Feb 20
Money gone
House gone
Race car lost
Dog’s run away
Only one railway ‘n one hotel left
No electricity
No lights
No instructions
Not enough time
Depressed
Bored
No connection
Middle America
Lost on vacation
here’s the clunking throb of my heart
and you walk in from work
your hair a fluster of black strands
heels flicked off and keys
tossed into the bowl with a clatter

you flump onto the sofa
say nothing
but listen to the clunking throb
of my heart
and I know we’re both thinking
something has to change
but the answer is hidden
like a note under a stone

we breathe
and the traffic continues outside
we sigh
and the phone shrieks by the door
Written: May 2018.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
Débijonne Aug 2018
Almost asleep when my phone ticked;
'A notification,' it says.
Your name was there, you liked my photo.
And my stomach drowned in butterflies—
Scratch that—moths, surely they're moths.
Stronger, buzzier, like your power
To occupy and stay in my brain
With that single heart emoji beside your name.
Thinking that the double tap
Is as if you love me just the same.
Shoutout to those whose crushes follow them on instagram. Mine doesn't. :( HAHAHA
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
Daisy Marrow Dec 2018
Baby, you really hurt me
letting me think that we could have been something.
I should have known months ago
when you stopped saying hello and started leaving me on read.

I would pull back
but would keep hanging on
thinking this was going to go somewhere.

If you weren't serious all you had to do was tell me.
Instead, you left me outside waiting in the storm.
Having second thoughts should have been the first sign.
Thinking I deserve someone that does not leave me on read,
but at last, I was too naive.
So I stayed waiting by my phone and waiting for that light.

But now I realize it's just too cold out in this storm.
I tried being an adult asking where do you wanna go from here,
but I guess you just didn't have the time to answer me.
That's okay, maybe I won't get this past year back,
but I have too much to look forward to than worrying about someone who just doesn't care.

Baby, you really hurt me
thinking that this was going somewhere.
Baby, don't worry I can tell you don't care about me anymore
the way I believed you did.
Baby, don't worry I'm woman enough to realize I deserve better now.
2018
MangoMan Sep 2018
Reconnecting,

Our hearts.
Through descriptions of our days.
i love phone calls with you.
s Dec 2017
when you ask me if I'm bored
of listening to your awful stories,
I wonder what boredom means to me
and why I'm grateful for mundanity.

you colour my life in every tone of grey -
in a nourishing, poetic, underrated way.
grey - the soul of every colour in the world;
invisible and aligned - right between extremes -
like all things well designed ought to be.

or maybe because grey
feels like routine,
and you’re the everyday
that's to come and that has been.

you're where I set my bar for normal;
you're my Sunday night pyjama informal.

You’re my common sense, and my reality check,
my perspective lens, my goodnight peck.
and even your grim phone voice
and plotless stories on sleepless nights
are part of the palette  I've come to adore,
painting magic in monochrome.
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