They Still Call Poem by Randy McClave

They Still Call



They still call my house everyday
Even when they don't have anything to say,
My brother calls our mom to give her the weather from somewhere
Then my sister calls our mom as she might color her hair,
And sometimes it's from charities, so it is now they.

The phone bill of mine I want to refuse to pay
Sometimes when the phone is ringing, I just walk away,
Communication by phone alone I do not care.
They still call.

Why can't they just come to my door and say, "Hey"
But, "No" it is to the phone that they must always obey,
I have unplugged it and I have ignore it and I have cursed it there
Then I tell everyone how I hate it, both in comments and prayer,
I scream that because of it I am a victim and mom is its prey.
They still call.

Randy L. McClave

Wednesday, July 6, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: brother,home,phone,sister
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
My mom lives with me in my house, and my phone starts ringing every morning in the early a.m from one of her children (my siblings) about nonsensical stuff. and the phone rings and rings and rings. When one phone call ends another begins. So, I wrote this poem.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kim Barney 06 July 2016

They just want to keep track of her and make sure he is all right. How old is she? Is her health good? Give me your number and I will call you at 4 a.m. tomorrow. Then when they call, the line will be busy and they can't get through! Ha! Just kidding. Have you tried leaving the phone off the hook?

1 0 Reply
Randy Mcclave 06 July 2016

Mom is in her 90's and she still does great, thank you for asking. I have a brother who starts calling mom every morning and all day long, most of his reasoning is for favors or deeds or most often money from our mom. Our sister calls to tell our 90 year old mother about worries and her problems and her inflicted children, with no cares or worry, mom needs no more sadness or worries. Mom loves on a limited income, then there are the charities that call her for money with sad stories, mom feels gutted into promising them money as well. I hope my poem makes more sense now. Thank you for reading my poem, have a great day. Randy

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Randy McClave

Randy McClave

Ashland, Kentucky
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