Years ago I flew to Istanbul and decided that I would 'do a drawing' on each day that I was in Turkey. I do not, you understand, consider that I am in any way an artist, and my ability at drawing is frankly low.  But, I did do a drawing every day and what I found was that it forced me to 'look' in a way which was more intense.
          In the same way, I feel that having a small notebook in my pocket at all times encourages me to  keep looking at what is going on around me with a little more attention.  There is always something interesting to note, and that might be the stuff of a poem later.
          Each day after my swim, I have a cup of tea and write something in my notebook.  Often my observations are mundane, but they sometimes develop into something which interests me.
          Today I watched as a small child left his parents' table in the sun and went into the shade so that he could use his or his parents' mobile phone.  There is another poem to be written about the level of cosseting that his mother exhibited (that kid's wife is going to have a hard time living up to what he takes for granted now!) but I was simply interested in his rejection of a mild March sun because it got in the way of life on the screen.  I also noticed that two other children were sitting inside the cafe apart from their parents, and both were using their devices!
          This observation of 'them' then turned into an observation about 'me' and how I use my notebook.

Device

The boy retreated to the shade

because Reality was faded out

by too much sun.

He drank his juice and did

not take his eyes away

from his bright page.

Where is the ghost in the machine?

Beyond the screen

or just behind his eyes?

Would Moses now hold up

the tablets of the law

with more authority

if they were made by Mac?

And.  Am I so different?

With my small book –

so pocket friendly –

with a strap to keep it tight,

and little pen to hand?

Just like the shadow child

I use the thing reflexively;

as much a place

to hide within

as to reveal.

The mobile screen’s

a modern Book of Hours;

and we, I think,

are more devout

with them than

generations in the past

with paper were.

I'm not sure about the last two stanzas.  I like the ideas in them, but I am not sure about the flow of the poem.  I seem to include myself in the last stanza, yet my notebook is paper too.  There is perhaps a built in irony that I am using computer technology to put the poem on this site and yet I am questioning the use of computers as well.  I might also point out that I own an iPad, iPhone, Mac Book Air and Mac computer, so I speak as an addict!