Marlies Vonn
Mar 08, 2018
This poem is part of the contest:

Ode To The Cellphone [March contest]

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Our Cells of Blue - March April Contest 2018

I press a finger against my glass
and you press one up against yours
My cell won't let me out of class
to greet you at my one front door.

Binary and bots, you see,
tend us both so carefully.
Confined under the same wide sky,
never seeing with our eyes.

I dream of fires beside the beach
your eyes, your soul, your gilded speech
But glass and prints of hand remain
All my dreams are in a frame.

We're both electric – flat screens of blue
If the charge is gone then so are you
Dare we throw our cords away
connecting hands in light of day?

Then out of framed screen I grew
no binary, no bots of blue
I walked barefoot along your path
My breath upon your window glass.

You saw my face beyond the frame
and balked as I was not the same.
Both we ran back to cells of blue
our cords connected to our true.

Now, I am me and you are you.
We're safe and sane in cells of blue.

About This Poem

Review Request Direction: What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - draft

About the Author

Country/Region: Canada

More from this author

Comments

Geezer

seeing the reference to the phone in this one. Can you be a little more explicit? The rhythm was good and the pattern/pacing too.
~ Geezer.
.

M

Thanks for your input!

It is a common problem for me to be too subtle lol.

I guess what I was trying to convey was the concept of being confined behind the glass of the cell phone - and communicating to people that I may never meet in person. And should I meet that person in real life, I might be a huge disappointment - when compared with the persona I present online (with "selfies" or adjusted profile pics). Like, pressing up against the real glass of a person's window or door - and being rejected. Sometimes technology makes me less willing to go out into the real world and meet real people.

Eumolpus

I am confused of the characters, the I, he and she, and the internal logic of what's going on.

Yesterday in my local poetry workshop the same thing happened to me, I presented a poem which was clear to me but nobody in the room, include some very good readers, got it. That happens to us poets, this is no easy craft; to say it and not say it, to have it both mean and be, to not explain but have the intent understood by the invisible reader out there who will read the poem. But such a reaction is often good, and helpful to the writer in the editing and re-editing that makes a poem great. ....

M

Thank you for your input!

I can see where the reader might be confused with the I, he, and she. I had replied to another person with a similar question on this thread. I am way too subtle a lot of the time lol. What I'm trying to convey here is a more of a personal experience with technology. There are so many incredible and intelligent people I have made acquaintances with online. And I fear that if I were to meet any of them in person, they'd be disappointed meeting the real "me" - perhaps I should cut out the "he/she" and use "I" more often. I have a disability which does confine me to a degree - and I feel that the "glass" of the cell phone has augmented that sense of confinement over the years.

I'm not sure if I'm making much sense. I hope perhaps this adds a bit of clarity.

weirdelf

I think you achieve the goal with remarkable subtlety and use of subtext. All that needs to be said about the hardware is in the fourth stanza guys! And it is in the title.
Speaks well to the alienation that universal communication paradoxically creates by devices such as stepping outside the I into she.
Fine prosodic values too.
If I was a judge this would get my vote.

weirdelf

Welcome to Neopoet!
I look forward to much more of your work, and your critique.

Sparrow

I agree with Jess, that here we have a close encounter with a cell phone, and its attributes, the communication is subtle and meaningful.
If there is a need to enlighten or be more exact as to the main object somewhere n the first stanza there can be a ref to the little box. (I hate them lol)
I press (quietly) against the glass
and you press up against yours.
In halls and paths we’ll never pass,
My precious cell of communication, or something along these lines then doubt will evaporate.
Other than that a great write,
Yours Ian..
confined to walls and just one door.

R

raj

7 years 1 month ago

I concur with the comment of Jess. This is out of box stuff. I liked thoughts given voice.
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