How i h8

our souless f8,

there's no sublime,

we have not time,

you are so near,

yet never here,

it is too much,

i miss your touch,

our lives complx,

we talk by txt

2001
month of may

when cows are

burning in the hay.

but woe befalls

the month of June-

election time;

who calls the tune?

SHIPS
s, she said, which was sort of true;

we skirted around one another, never touching,

but the ripples your movements caused shook me

160 symbols

sent through the ether.

to bring you closer.

numbers, letters, dirty jokes. the hi-tech haiku.

cradled in the hand for a moment.

then erased

Rugby league flat pass, high kick,

h-a-n-g-i-n-g,

crunch tackle,

dropped ball,

darting run,

try!!!

old men leap up, bellowing - we only come for the shoutin

I pluck

a flower,

place it in water

and paint it as it dies.

this is art,

but is it still life?

Can u c me

cos i can c u lk lft lk rght im in sght im 1 of da crowd dat lies b4 yr eyes bt can u tel whch face is mine an bsides all dat wld u lik wot u'd find?

Capitalist pigs

in crowded bars with friends u despise,no need 4contrivd contradictry alibis,we al no wot were feelig,

market forces,

naked capitalism,

weelr dling

Modern affair mrs j is in her car,

mr b's on the 8.23.

the msg tone of her coolest fone fills her with illicit glee. the thrill is more cos she's 44, & he is 33.

Watch dog watch me, or i'll be prowling my way round your house of a body: licking at windows, stealing through doors, trying beds out for size

Pulling power filmstar looks

& reading books/

by tv cooks/

are a list of maybes/

of how to impress the ladies/

but it's so much easier

with a Mercedes.

When i was 3

i had a friend,

who asked me,

why bananas bend,

i told him why,

but now im 4,

i am not terribly sure.

Phone text

better than sex,

I last longer than some,

but get a sore thumb

Old blood

new bloom-

moira works the loom-

nimble fingers knot reality-we all r slaves to textuality

Deepest green

shady blue,

silent depths i dive for you, immerse myself

in your silken grasp,

relinquish breath

for life at last

I'm on the train

in the rain

listening 2

the morning

mobile brain drain

What next

You have seven days left to enter Online's competition!

Text your poems to

07753 828610

April 13: Entries close, sifting begins

April 19: Judges decide final seven

April 23: Entrants to be texted a poem a day for seven days. Give each a mark out of 10 (numerals) and send it back

May 6: Results published in Online

Details: www.theguardian.com/mobilepoems