Tuesday, August 25, 2015

#micropoetry "Old Television" #amwriting

The television sat
entangled in the
wet summer grass
discarded and left for
anyone to take.
An ignominious end for
the most watched thing in that house for years.

How many images must have flickered across the screen?
Things seen that cannot be unseen.
Now left on the curb
kicked to the curb.
Forgotten.
How quickly objects lose their meaning
and become "trash."

People are treated like this too.
We don't like to talk about it.
But it happens.
Every day.
We will all be that television eventually.

4 comments:

  1. It wouldn't be a Michael Wells poem without one large word thrown in to make it sound like you're smart. I'm sure your thesaurus is well-used.

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    Replies
    1. Isn't that the purpose of a thesaurus? What have you got against him? Why so bitter?

      Delete
  2. If you have such a problem with this blog (and me), then don't read. Better yet: call me so we can discuss your disdain. But you won't do that. People like you never do.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Very poetically astute comment on life. It got me right where I live.
    Thank you for this.

    ReplyDelete