Monday, February 6, 2017

bell ringer--By Lois Greene Stone--United States

bell ringer

Touching tiny squares pushed
into plastic, my fingers rim
the receiver.  Shall I, or not,
they decide as if they were
plucking petals from a daisy
playing a child's game of she
loves me, she loves me not.
An irritating sound signals
I must make up my mind else
return the hand piece to its
cradle.  Hang-up, hang-up,
staccato tempo.  I punch
the buttons for ten digits
because I miss your voice.

Lois Greene Stone, writer and poet, has been syndicated worldwide. Poetry and personal essays have been included in hard & softcover book anthologies. Collections of her personal items/ photos/ memorabilia are in major museums including twelve different divisions of The Smithsonian.

5 comments:

  1. Dear Lois,
    Thank you for this provocative poem. I like the way your last line turns the poem.
    Do favor us with more of your creations.
    Blessings,
    Michael

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  2. Nice to see you here again Lois, enjoyed your piece very much!

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  3. Nice one, Lois. Very well-written. I enjoyed it. Thank you for sharing. Continued blessings!

    -MJ (www.tgbtgpublictions.com)

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  4. Lois,
    A very nice poem. I enjoyed it a lot!
    Yours truly,
    David Fox

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  5. Very good writing, Lois "bell ringer" was me as a young boy from teasing others to get attention to seeking attention from little girls. Yes, I have played that plucking game she loves me she loves me not. I injoyed the ending of "bell ringer".
    Yancy

    ReplyDelete