Gate B14
Thumbs twitch, scroll, tap,
a silent ballet.
Beside me, a man smiles
at something only he can see.
Across the aisle,
a woman wipes a tear.
Only I see her.
In my hands, a novel,
full of people burning to be known,
where even silence means something.
Eyes do not meet.
Everyone tuned
elsewhere,
but not here.
Sharing the space,
breathing the same filtered air,
yet we pass through one another.
Ghosts in reverse.
I set my book aside,
stand, walk.
No one notices me.
The gate remains full.
Bright, cold light
from glowing screens
illuminates absent faces.
Saints of a new Order.
-
Author:
Dasim (
Offline) - Published: July 22nd, 2025 23:16
- Comment from author about the poem: The addiction to phones is dehumanizing us at an alarming rate. Reality and fantasy are indistinguishable. \r\nWe no longer see the humans in front of us.
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Poetic Licence, Priya Tomar
Offline)
Comments3
This poem gets a fave for addressing the subject that many hold sacred. People would rather give up relationships than their phone. As raised so poignantly in this poem it has distorted and changed relationships and our very sense of freedom. We are distanced behind a box screen or not, chained with a chain that we hold dear. Nicely done
Such a poignant write in today's world, most can't see what's in front of them except their phone, enjoyed the read
Great write
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