A poem a day keeps the cobwebs off my keyboard.
If you lived out in the sticks,
Face to face was the way to prattle,
With your wife, your kids, and your cattle.
Or in a letter you could write down,
Your thoughts, then mail it in town.
The post was labeled Express,
But took days to arrive at best.
These types of communication so civil,
Were respected and not used for drivel.
What's not broken you ought not to fix,
But in Eighteen-seventy-six,
Alexander Graham Bell,
Opened the Gates of Hell.
With his marvelous invention,
That demands you pay it attention.
Now, anyone at all can ring you,
Jabber, chatter, gossip and sing, too.
Your life is no longer your own,
Now that we all have a phone.
Prompt: pick something you loathe
July 22, 2020
The Daily Poem