Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Dropped(a recycled poem)

I stumbled across a dropped call today.
I picked it up and wondered what dangling conversation
hung on its edges.
Upon scanning the area along the side of Almena road
I saw hundreds of fallen voices laying there.
I had stepped all over them like so many worms
On a rain soaked day.
The flattened words lay dead,
some hoping for a resurrection,
and some wishing they had never been said.
Idled words.
Loving words with their passion subtracted.
Crouching down, I started picking them up
like loose change on car mats.
I began to pile them my left palm.
They became a pyramid of nouns,
verbs, and adjectives grouted
together by prepositions.
Oh for a refrigerator to throw
these on so I can order them like a shell game.
Maybe there a chance I can put the sentences back together.
Maybe there’s hope to text the best words
with the purist of intentions to the expecting phones.
Maybe I can stand in the gap where the cell towers
wandered too far away from each other.
I do hate to see words lying beside the road.

Had to go to the matresses today...time has dwindled to write lately.  Peace to all who enter here.


  1. smiles. glad you did i enjoyed this write...i hate to see discarded words or for them to go to waste....

  2. This poem is extremely clever. It is difficult to come up with fresh and stimulating ideas all the time and you have certainly achieved this here. Well done!!

  3. wonderful writing. glad to have visited :)

  4. Some really great wordplay and imagery, especially through your use of similies. "Purist" and "grouted" strike me as inventive usage. And as ayala has stated, clever.

  5. It's fun - but there's a serious theme here -- the words we use carelessly or thoughtlessly. They lie around, collecting meaning.

    Good poem, Jerry.

  6. so glad you picked them up...now they are warm and dry, packed into a wonderfully creative poem..you rock jerry


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