Day Sixteen
Yesterday was my five hundredth post on this blog
and the phone didn't stop ringing, which inspired my
poem for this the sixteenth day of NaPoWriMo 2013.
Here it is:
DEAD WRINGERS
His home phone never stopped ringing
Ringing, ringing, ringing in his ears
Tearfully he disconnected his Ansaphone
Phone calls were taking over his life
Life was for living he told himself
Elfishly he turned the damn thing off
Offering the ringers no choice at all
All that happened was - they rang him some more
Some moron had found his cell phone number
Cucumber dog and partridge trombone
One two three, five-five-five, six nine, nine eleven
Eventually though something had to give
Give me strength he said, jumping into the canal
All the ringers were watching, waiting, wringing him out
160413All the ringers were watching, waiting, wringing him out
Many thanks to Stanski of Elephant Small for giving me the title for this piece.
ReplyDeleteThanks Andy... Lucky I had your phone number!
ReplyDeleteThanks Andy... Lucky I had your phone number!
ReplyDeleteThanks Stan,I can't deal with any more calls, I'm going ex-directory.
ReplyDeleteI know how you feel. Most phone calls are unwelcome intrusions. I once tried only answering every tenth call. Didn't miss a thing. ;-)
ReplyDeleteAndy, thanks for commenting on my blog, so I could find you here. I agree to a point. I have a cell phone, and the only time I truly want to rant is in the weeks coming up to an election. Other than that, it's easy-peasy on my phone. I feel your pain, since we used to have a landline! Thanks, Amy
ReplyDeleteThanks Amy, nice to see you here!
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