I Still Breathe

Rob Hanson photo

Dust and rust and cobwebs sewn
Antique phone molds workshop wall
I still work and want to talk
But techno growth stole my soul
Hidden deep in cellar dank
Missing sheep in old folks home
I still breathe and want to talk
Lay alone in darkened room
Sunrise dawns and sunset fades
Stray light beams sneak in each day
I still hope and want to play
But grandkids use new iPods
Dust and rust and cobwebs sewn
Antique phones wear mold that’s grown
I still breathe and beg to try
But new ring tones let me die
Buried deep in cellar’s cry
Missing sheep in old folk’s home
For One Shot Poetry Sunday Photo and Poetry Pantry #53

10 thoughts on “I Still Breathe

  1. This is beautiful, nostalgic. Love the refrain, with the plea, reaching out ("I still breathe.. I still hope…"). A lonely place to wait, "in old folk's home". You evoke emotion well in this piece.

  2. Great personification. I really like that the phone has to talk for itself, since everyone else spurns it. And of course, the human parallel, though I know a lot of missing sheep that have no trouble speaking pretty continuously, thanks to the internet. ;_)

  3. Adored the rhythm and the repeating refrain here Henry, Brilliant and clever poem echoing of long dead voices and hopes and fears, and decay of the elderly. Well done indeed!

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