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Poetry from within



In cafes, restaurants and bars

On buses, lorries, backs of cars

It seems that people canít leave home

Without their personal telephone

Theyíre walking down a busy street

Oblivious to all they meet

Chins tucked down against their chest

As if conducting some great quest

I donít know how they find their way

When looking down at phones all day

In every village, city, town

They spend their day just looking down

They bump into you as they pass

And then call YOU a silly ass

Un-repentant, head held down

They sally forth with angry frown

Now if I use my phone at all

Itís to receive or make a call

I never check it when I walk

And always stop to text or talk

So why do some folk think itís grand

To walk all day with phone in hand?

Forever checking mail or text

This trend is making me so vexed

I really should learn to forgive

Just nurse my bruises, live let live

Yet how Iíd love a jutting pole

To trip them up into a hole!

© Don Holmes

Don Holmes