{"id":73437,"date":"2020-06-28T01:22:12","date_gmt":"2020-06-28T05:22:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=73437"},"modified":"2020-06-28T01:22:12","modified_gmt":"2020-06-28T05:22:12","slug":"the-end-of-the-red-telephone-booth","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2020\/06\/the-end-of-the-red-telephone-booth\/","title":{"rendered":"The End of the Red Telephone Booth!"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Crimson edifice, monument to a long-gone past;<br \/>\nCast-iron anomaly that guards the village store.<br \/>\nWhat use have you today, whose last<br \/>\ncall made was by someone trying to find a w h o r e;<br \/>\na number picked at random from the posted cards?<br \/>\nThe secrets that once it was your job to guard<br \/>\nare whispered now into a tiny mobile phone,<br \/>\nor sent by text, for the recipients\u2019 eyes alone.<\/p>\n<p>Do you still provide a place to call for taxi-hire;<br \/>\nthe laggards rescue from the late-night long walk home?<br \/>\nEmergency requests for ambulance, police or fire,<br \/>\nor reporting out-of-order residential phones?<br \/>\nPerhaps you shelter still the teenage lovers\u2019 kiss;<br \/>\ntoo self-wrapped-up to note the reek of drunkards\u2019 p i s s<br \/>\nin puddled corners. And do runaways still strive to cheat the coinbox, telling parents that they are alive?<\/p>\n<p>Although on town and country streets I see<br \/>\nnow only clean-cut BT kiosks made of steel and glass,<br \/>\nthe old red phone box still provides a memory<br \/>\nof times gone by; a once great British past.<br \/>\nAnd still in hidden corners or forgotten lanes<br \/>\nI find your crimson frame and tiny panes<br \/>\nrecall own my misspent and happy youth. Oh yes, it\u2019s true\u2026<br \/>\nmy teenage secret life was guarded well by you.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Crimson edifice, monument to a long-gone past; Cast-iron anomaly that guards the village store. What use have you today, whose last call made was by someone trying to find a w h o r e; a number picked at random from the posted cards? The&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1359,"featured_media":73350,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[3442],"class_list":["post-73437","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-marathon-poem","tag-2020poetrymarathon"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/73437","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1359"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=73437"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/73437\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":73465,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/73437\/revisions\/73465"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/73350"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=73437"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=73437"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=73437"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}