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.

8 comments:

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

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  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!!

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  3. wonderful writing. glad to have visited :)

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  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.

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  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.

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  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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So, you made a little time to stop by. You are welcome any time...speak freely.