The Song of the Phone
Richard
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
Easy Mode - Auto check enabled
From dawn 'til day is done,
Swipe! Scroll! Swipe!
A person sits, all alone, forlorn,
And still, with a vacant stare, they type,
And to feel the sun's warm kiss,
Tap, tap, tap,
Swipe! Scroll! Swipe!
In a world that's lost its way,
And they can't look away, can't look away.
For the phone calls, a siren's spread,
In this digital, mirrored hall,
With fingers weary and worn,
Not the screens that rule your lives!
Oh! But to breathe the air,
On its endless feed, they feed.
Where happiness is always ripe,
Love letters left unread,
And shadows yield to light.
Is it not their souls you should hold so near,
But the phone's grip is tight,
A person sits, all alone, forlorn,
While the real world takes a nap,
In the phone's pale, ghostly glow.
A race that can't be won.
Is it joy that you find there?
Through the newsfeed's endless flow,
Swipe! Scroll! Swipe!
Oh! Men with mothers and wives!
A phone held tight in bed.
And eyes heavy and red,
For a screen's cold, empty sway.
A life lived in a digital stripe,
Conversations left unsaid,
In the silence of the room,
And eyes heavy and red,
And find true human bliss.
Oh! Men with sisters dear!
Tap, tap, tap,
In the darkness of the night,
A constant, hungry need,
A phone held tight in bed.
Though their spirit starts to fray,
Or the seeds of a bitter fall?
To escape this digital snare,
Tap, tap, tap,
And relationships wilt in the gloom.
'Til the sun outside starts to lap,
A connection to nowhere, instead.
With fingers weary and worn,
They're caught in the phone's cruel trap,
On the glass, cold and bright,
Swipe! Scroll! Swipe!
Compare, contrast, despair,
And life's a highlight reel, it seems.
They've traded their soul, swipe by swipe,
Through curated, filtered scenes,