A Call

At midnight’s edge I hold the phone,
a glowing star when I’m all alone.
I dial the sky in whispered tone,
but silence answers, stone to stone.

Somewhere, perhaps, in another land,
a voice could reach, a gentle hand.
Time zones drift like shifting sand,
yet none reply to what I planned.

So sleep becomes my quiet friend,
a waiting room that will not end.
I dream a call the night might send,
a voice that says, “I need you, friend.”

And when that day at last is near,
when someone’s words break through the fear,
I’ll be awake, I’ll lend an ear,
and answer softly, “I am here.”

Reviews

[JayG]

You're focusing on the rhyming to a level where you're sacrificing meaning for the rhyme:

• a glowing star when I’m all alone.

A phone is a "glowing star?" Seriously?

The rhyme is an accent, with the fact of it rhyming seeming almost accidental, because ithatword matches the thought so perfectly.

My favorite example of this is the lyric to the song, "The Twelfth of Never," released in 1957. Look at the opening:
- - - - -
You ask how much I need you, must I explain?
I need you, oh my darling, like roses need rain.
You ask how long I'll love you; I'll tell you true:
Until the twelfth of never, I'll still be loving you.
- - - - -
Notice the clever trick played on the reader: The speaker is replying to a question the reader supposedly asked, placing that reader INTO the poem as the beloved who has asked that question. And since it’s one we might ask of someone who loves us, the answer is inherently interesting (especially since, if it’s a good one we might use it).

So with “You ask,” and without realizing why, the reader is emotionally involved. That’s brilliant writing, because this one line makes the rest of the poem meaningful to the reader.

In response to the question of how long their commitment will last, the speaker dismisses it as supposedly obvious. Yet it’s a critical question, so the seeming disconnect again draws the reader in, with the unspoken comment of, "Well yes, you absolutely must tell me, because I need to know." So, given the attitude placed into the reader with that thought, it feels as if the poem is directed at us. And that’s a HUGE hook. Right?

The response is 100% allegorical. It says, in effect, “I can’t live without you,” but does it in a pretty and interesting way.

The question/answer sequence then continues with a clever twist, Love will end, but on a date that’s an impossibility.

It’s emotion-based writing that calls up context that already exists in the reader/listener’s mind. But even had they never heard the expression “like roses need rain,” it would be instantly meaningful.

It’s part of a song, but this first verse, for me, is a perfect example of emotion-based poetry.

Let's take it one step further, and look at the FLOW. It's metrical poetry, so it rhymes. But notice that the rhymes aren't the obvious Moon/June type, and the words fit the thought so well that the rhyme seems incidental, an accent rather than a drumbeat. And, each line has the same cadence: seven beats per line that the reader, or singer, will fall into, enhancing the experience.

Make sense?

The problem behind the problem, as I see it, is that for the author, every line acts as a pointer to ideas, memories, events, and outcomes, all stored in our mind. But too often, for the reader, every line acts as a pointer to ideas, memories, events, and outcomes, all stored in *OUR* mind, because we forget to give the context that will make the words meaningful to the reader.

Aside from the poetic lyrics, it’s a pretty song. The most popular version of it was recorded by Johnny Mathis in 1958. A live recording, later in his career, is here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PnPnSjCUnc

For a great intro to the elements of metrical poetry, read the excerpt from Stephen Fry's, The Ode Less Traveled, on Amazon.