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This mouth is dry, burning with thirst,
It needs quenching , a drop of poetry,
Words of satisfaction rolling across a tongue.
There is none only the cellular ring,
iPod to global wandering, watching, tracking.
When did common conversation become damned?
Could it be that poets and time are out of sync?
Guardians of love, life, beauty, death….gone?
Did Walden’s Pond dry up to the insanity of a SIM chip?
Technology does not replete art, word, ideas,
You fools, you have become bound to the mundane,
The text messaged impersonality of thought.
There is no juggernaut of intellect here,
Only the simpering distillation of abbreviation.
Call me, let us enunciate words, communicate,
Experience your thoughts, my thoughts….touch.
I want to feel the flesh of you mind,
Enjoy the scent of your intellect,
Not in Qwerty interpolation of your text speak.
Let me hear the emotion in your voice,
The character of your heart and soul,
Let me hear you intone your feelings,
Not the derivative of a plastic keyboard.
I hunger for the timbre of your voice,
A longing for the touch of your words,
The breath of your lips, a trust in your message.
Offer up the bouquet of your mind, speak to me!
© 2010, Donald Harbour
Donald Harbour Poetry 
I read this, and wow… I really like it! How beautiful. How poignant. Thank you.
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Donald beautiful and gripping poem!
I agree with this 100% technology has taken away many personal forms of communication.
Pamela
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Several months ago, I got a very simple cell phone/tractphone. It took me about two months to figure out how to turn it on, or respond to its ringing. I got it for emergnecies, when away from home. I get 60 minutes a month, and they roll over at the beginning of each new month. I now have well over 300 minutes on the thing. I only tell you this because I want you to know that I understand perfectly what you are saying in this beautiful piece of poetic dialogue. You are not alone. Thank you.
Elizabeth
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Beautiful protest poem.
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I totally agree. The times of good old letters is passe now.
pavement musings
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I’ve refused text messaging, frown on an overage of e-mails from locals without a view of their skin and the sound of their voice. Excellent poem, excellent!
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Loved this, Donald…and could not agree with you MORE! There should be no such thing as “texting”. The young are losing the ability to truly converse.
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Your poem quenched my dry mouth with delicious drops of poetry. Thanks.
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Timbre, such a rich, rich word. And intone. I like how you take the losses and use words that fit the thoughts and feel so well.
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It’s so true that electronic communication can lack the personal, the human. It seems like hand-held devices are taking over the world, everyone walking around with their heads down, pecking on a tiny keyboard. I’ve refused to buy one for fear of becoming a slave to it like so many have. I, like 1sojournal above, only own a Tracfone for emergencies and quick conversations while out of the house.
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