'' Our Ability To Communicate Had Died ''
We’ve given up the art of conversation,
This has left me feeling vexed,
Though it will fill some with elation,
Their preference is to communicate by text.
Send me an e: mail I’m busy right now,
Truth is they don’t want to talk,
It’s swollen joints this art will endow,
On your fingers it’s a terrible shock.
Why buy a book my tablet is fine,
I just delete it whenever it’s read,
I can even purchase a bottle of wine,
Or even a nice loaf of bread.
I don’t even need to go over the door,
Shops are now a thing of the past,
I send an instruction to my local store,
Everything’s then delivered quite fast.
I can see who’s calling I have the choice,
As to whether I answer or not,
If I so choose I’ll delete their voice,
Knowing I cannot get caught.
My mobile is something I would not be without,
To do so would just give me strife,
At work, rest or play let there be no doubt,
It’s an integral part of my life.
There’s no need to talk to you face to face,
Those days are now long gone,
That communication we had we’ve no need to replace,
We are witnessing a brand new dawn.
We’d become totally dependent on a mobile device,
Past talents are now out of reach,
For that mistake we paid a heavy price,
We had forfeited the power of speech.
Then one fateful day the world’s power died,
The world was in a state of despair,
Nobody could talk so everyone cried,
The past they could not repair.
Different generations going back thousands of years,
Had talents they all left behind,
Trying to resurrect them left them in tears,
As those skills they could no longer find.
Like all civilisations that have went before,
Those past abilities could not be applied,
The art of conversation we could not restore
‘’ Our Ability To Communicate Had Died ‘’
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
history is littered with this problem.
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