The Bachelor: a sonnet

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I really want to be The Bachelor,

Inviting morsels for me to trawl,

Flicking them off, so spectacular,

I wish I could taste them all!

 

And I find The One, The Only One,

“My love is like a red, red, rose”,

The final, millions watch, she’s won,

A moment in time that froze.

 

But is it real this game of love?

Is it only a scripted illusion?

Parts are acted, the producers shove,

All in all, a romantic delusion.

 

To be The Bach my looks will hinder,

I’ll go back to finding real love on Tinder.

 

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Phubbing

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When you’re in a crowd

And someone comes towards you

And ignores you

On their phone…

Phubbing

Phone Snubbing

 

When you’re on a night out

At a restaurant

And your date

Constantly goes

On their phone…

Phubbing

Phone Snubbing

 

When you want to have a conversation

With your teenager

And they just have to go

On their phone…

Phubbing

Phone Snubbing

 

When there are laws about not

Phoning and driving

But people

Still drive

On their phone…

Phubbing

Phone Snubbing

 

When you’re reading this poem

On your phone…