A poem-off between Brigham and Callie

Cell Phone

Dark evil eyes in a cobweb covered crack.
Think that I look like a tasty snack.
It's fur stained scarlet, its mouth drenched in blood
As it follows my tracks in the deep brown mud.
I glance at the moon which sends chills to my sole
That's when I spot a single phone pole
I reach in my pocket, a boy of thirteen
But I can't help but let out a terrifying scream…
No communication. I find myself alone.
My mom won't let me have a cell phone!


By Brigham McKay


A Mothers Retort

In response to my teen, full of desire
Who feels a cell phone is a need that is dire
My mind is quite clear as I state my retort
This problem is not of the life saving sort
Although I seem old and a bit out of touch
This is a matter I have thought about much
In an age of advancing, flashy, new gadgets
We've devolved into characterless fun sucking maggots
High def TV and life- like game toys
Have robbed ingenuity from smart little boys
Don't solve your probs with techno wiz chatter
Try using some of your old fashioned grey matter
You have two good legs and strong lungs that will carry
You far and a way to a place much less scary
You should have been wiser on which street you will walk
And I want to keep preferences on whom you will talk
Your life is so precious, innocent and young
I won't sacrifice you to the technology tongue
Some day you will need a cell phone it's true
But for now, it is NO, till the bill comes to you


By Callie McKay