Breaking Bread and Conversation
-The Digital Age is Slowly Killing Our Youth
Do you remember when
We used to see…
Smiling faces, hopeful eyes
Morning rays, brilliant skies
Gentle winds caress the grass
Farmer’s pond, jumping bass
Twisted turning woodland path
Sparrows singing in the bath
Cherry blossoms, artful trance
Couples strolling, sweet romance
Turning pages, open books
Flower gardens, babbling brooks
Breaking bread and conversation
Pastel colors, illustrations
Children playing, passing ball
Flagpoles on the garden wall
Wooden toys, for girls and boys
Telling stories, joyful noise
Rabbit ears, sewing shears
Whistles from the Engineers
Picnic sites, checked cloth
Bumble bees, common moths
Potato salad, apple pie
Crisp white shirt, tight bow tie
Linen trousers, cotton frocks
Face and hands on every clock
Morning paper, magazines
Now reduced to tiny screens
Eyes are fixed, looking down
Bodies move without a sound
Passing by, no hello, no wave
Prisoners of that glowing slave
Rain or sun, most never see
Changing colors, autumn trees
Fingers thick from always scrolling
Reading words from others trolling
Videos with pranks and tricks
All the while, the tracking clicks
Lightning fast, texting, typing
Up and down, the endless swiping
Well-worn seat, headphones on
Gaming hard until the dawn
Curtains tight, but up all night
No time to read, no time to write
Hanging out, it’s just like home
Every kid is on their phone
Neither sports nor marching band
Can seem to trump what’s in their hand
Exercise, a lost endeavor
On-line bliss, their guilty pleasure
An open grave for conversation
Buried like the service station
Lost in in time, like cracker jacks
Skipping over sidewalk cracks
And everything at breakneck pace
Early lines across their face
Stresses build, anxiety
Pressure from the things they see
Clicks, and likes, and upward thumbs
Forehead pounding, kettle drums
Unknown faces on digital spaces
Constant drag of hoops and paces
It’s on demand, never closing
Endless posts and new composing
Addiction has a face and name
Blinded sight, it’s all the same
Live your life, go out and play
Power down, and walk away
Additional Reading
R.J. Schwartz is an American Poet and Author.
His complete works on The Creative Exiles Website can be found here
The Gypsy Thread is a huge collection of his original work
Ralph also writes on HubPages
- Immersion – Souls and Their Seeking - February 25, 2025
- So Many Words - January 1, 2025
- The Loving Peace of Christmas Noise - December 20, 2024
‘Power down and walk away’ Absolutely!
I didn’t realise there were so many things that are drifting into the past but you’re right; and what a shame it is. I have 6 grandchildren and they are a mixture of screens and sport, so I can’t complain all the time. However, it is worrying that the screen is all powerful and the pressure from social media is messing up so many lives.
I’d like to go back to the 50s and 60s – it was easier to live with fewer pressures, for me anyway. I mention bakelite phones and the fact that we didn’t have tv until I was about 8 and the grandchildren gasp – I don’t think they totally believe me.