Death Of A Phone Poem by John Carter Brown

I ought to beware: my wife is back
The phone is now under transistor-attack;
It won't be a quick or an easy death
She'll kill it by sheer bombardment of breath.

All was so quiet while she was away;
The phone was relaxed... I had nothing to say;
But now the darned thing is flaming-red-hot
I think that my wife is now losing the plot.

The battery is failing, I fear for it's health
I doubt I could save it - even by stealth;
It's time the poor phone was back on it's base
Instead of contacting the whole human race.

Oh no, she's angry - it's fate is now sealed;
The battery is dead - it cannot be healed;
A look of disgust as it's thrown to one side,
A clear-cut case of... Phoneicide!

(Written Sept 2012)