This Thing Called Cellphone Poem by Ferdinand L Quintos

Cellphone makers have gone beyond texting,
users can now go internet surfing;
I, myself too, have gone beyond texting,
now I use a cellphone for verse-writing.

On a cellphone screen, a wee window,
Exciting views open, sceneries grow;
one can see the world or gaze at stars,
one can watch a tree or Saturn or Mars.

You can live through again each day of yore,
the cruel pangs of pain, the love you swore;
you can idle once more, with new sadness,
on forgotten seashores with one faithless.

You can say again so deep is your love,
or stop to coo to a lonely dove,
or how you conquered the power of pain,
or walk under a sudden summer rain.

But there will be day, soon you will find,
when your muse will play and stop your mind,
just keep going on and fill your screen,
confront the unknown and grasp the unseen.

Receive rewards, don’t hope you ever will,
feel joy flow inward, your soul it will fill,
you will hardly notice time has passed by,
you’ll be glad you saved your self from ennui.