Poem of the Week: Ring-a-Ling-a-Ling!

Hey, readers!

This week’s “Poem of the Week” has come to me via a certain “occurrence,” for lack of a better term, that has been a thorn in my side throughout this entire fall season. That occurrence: people calling my home phone number trying to sell me things that I don’t have any use for or telling me that I’ve won some contest I’ve never even heard of, much less taken part in, or even trying to get me to answer questions for a survey that I have no interest in taking part in whatsoever. Rather than ranting and raving and carrying on about why these telemarketers are getting on my nerves, though, I think I’ll let the following poem, Ring-a-Ling-a-Ling!, express my feelings for me. Without further ado, then, please enjoy!



October 12, 2012


Ring-a-ling-a-ling! Someone’s calling on the phone.

Hey, Granny! Oh, wait…it’s you. Leave me alone!

No, no, no! I don’t care what you’re selling.

You call me once more, and it’s the cops I’ll be telling.

How’d you get your hands on my number, anyway?

It’s on the “Do not call” list. Then again…hey!

Nah, who’m I kidding? That’d just be crazy.

Then again, bub, you’d better not be lazy

In taking my number off your calling list.

I’m pressing the key for that right now so you’ll get the gist.

Honestly, who do you think you are, anyway,

Calling me at this ungodly hour of the day?

Don’t you know or care that I’m expecting an important call

From my dear, hospitalized Granny, who’s been driven up a wall,

Oddly enough by people in your same line of work?

Let me be, then, if you know what’s good for you, jerk!

I’m so sick of people like you calling me

With your numbers coming up “Unknown” on my caller ID,

And when I’m dumb enough to pick up my receiver,

I end up hearing naught but your heaving, you heavy-ass breather,

If not, in fact, dead silence while you fumble through your script,

Which you read from directly as it’s me you’re trying to gyp,

And even if it’s not you, it’s some automated machine

Trying to rig me out of my hard-earned green.

Time shares, airline tickets, products galore—

Such is what you promise to me over the phone and more,

So long as I visit your website within the next twenty-four hours

And enter the code you give me so that you can have the power

To fleece me of my money for some vacation home

In Montego, Cancun, or wherever else you may roam

For your winter vacation—something I can never afford,

And I’m not falling for your pranks, so please don’t waste anymore

Of my precious time—or, for that matter, yours,

Or so help me, I’ll be having the Feds knocking on your door

And shutting down your entire operation

So that you’ll no longer bother anyone else in this nation

With your glorified harassment via telephone,

Preying upon the innocent when they’d rather be left alone.


Well, that should do it for this week. In the meantime, feel free to leave a comment about this poem and the topic I’ve covered in it. What are your thoughts about telemarketers? How do you deal with them? How many telemarketers have been bothering you recently? Have you ever bought anything sold by a telemarketer, and how did the experience turn out? Fee free let me know in a response to this poem. I really look forward to reading what you folks have to say.

In the meantime, thanks once again for stopping by this blog and checking out my material. As always, please check out my author page at Smashwords.com for current and future releases, follow me on Twitter @DustinMWeber, and until we meet again, happy reading!


Dustin M. Weber


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