Tuesday, 28 May 2013

Ode to a phone box


Your role is fixed, you give our voices wings,

the penny's dropped, a wired connection's made,

and when your digit's dialled, it whirs and sings

its tones, with rhythmic number once relayed

as if the current forced electrons through,

from kiosk number two on city's street, –

a beacon tall and red, yet small inside,

no Tardis dressed in blue.

No Doctor Who'd escape, evade, retreat

within such public space-- it's not that wide.

2 comments:

  1. I like this! :-) (Telecommunications is quite close to home for you, isn't it?)

    It struck me as a very effective cultural reference point, how you use some older phrases - 'ode','the penny's dropped' - which are now quite archaic-sounding, and then juxtapose them with the more modern/retro Doctor Who mythology of the tardis.

    All in all there's potential for a good time/space anomaly here, I think!

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    Replies
    1. Hey Shrewbeedu; nice to hear from you! :-) Yes, close to home, but as it happens, it was an excercise as part of a poetry course in which I'm participating - one new topic/form per month, for a year! This month - the Ode - and task two of three, to write a verse inspired by a photograph of a traditional red phone box. Worked out better than I expected.
      PS; belated happy birthday wishes (what's the symbol for 21 - a rose?).
      Kind Regards, the Pict.

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