Best Radios Poems
I remember as a young boy, going out to play, I would sometimes see old Mr. Kimball, sitting on the steps of his porch, often reading the paper. World War II was in full swing so the newspapers and radios were avidly sought out for the latest news. Mr. Kimball was a fireman, and probably not even that old, but he seemed that way to me.
Sometimes, he would invite me to sit with him and we would talk about everything and nothing. I loved spending time with him because, he was the only grown up I knew that took the time to entertain the mind of a young boy.
In his front window hung a small flag. It had a red border surrounding a white field, upon which there were two blue stars. I was always curious about it, so I asked him what it was. He said “It's a Sons in Service flag. One star for each son serving. You remember my boys don't you?” I did of course. Chuck, the oldest, used to tease me, calling me a sissy to get a reaction. Bobby was a couple of years younger, and the bike I was riding once had been his.
Mr. Kimball went on to explain how Chuck was now in the Army and fighting in France. Bobby was in the Navy, aboard a ship somewhere in the Pacific. He didn't say it, but I'm sure he was worried about both, communications being what they were back then.
One day, when I was walking over to see him, I noticed that the flag had changed. It now carried one blue star, but the other one was gold. With the innocence that comes of being a child, I asked what the gold star meant. He quietly said “It means Chuck is coming home”, and without further comment, he turned and went in the house.
A couple of days later, I saw a hearse pull up to the Kimballs house, and four men carry a flag draped box up the porch steps. That is the moment the meaning of war came to a small boy. I knew Chuck was home.
My Inventory:
flashlights
high-performance yo-yo
poetry books
fishing poles
ice-fishing hut
regret
pocket knife
sharpening stones
laughter
boomerangs
passwords
life's artifacts
Grandpa's Fishing Hat
hope and joy
Guardian Angel
wooden snow-sleds
more poetry books
olde-tyme-radios
compassion
camping gear
Babar, the Stuffed-Elephant
Angel-in-a-basket
imagination
McCoy Cookie Jars
nature field-guides
forgiveness
Soup-friends
ties I don't wear
family heirloom recipes
suits I try not to wear
treasured photographs
170 poems
antique lamps
my Children's love
......and You
my Savior
....... Jesus Christ
Pink inks of dawn glow
through a dissolving fog
lifting botanical shadows
alive with enchanting birds.
Rustling leaves stir the world awake.
Over the horizon a bustling city throbs,
a million or more people
going to their jobs,
missing this quiet solitude.
Radios thump. They drive
bumper to bumper,
eyes glued to the freeway.
Another jewel sunrise
slips right by them.
Fourth of July, Independence Day for the United States, and
On the news political speeches praising the nations heritage, then
Reading of the declaration in deep proud voices and joyful singing.
The country will celebrate with parades and fireworks and ceremonies,
Hanging the flag outside their homes and having picnics with streamers.
On army bases there will be a salute of one gun shot for each state, and
From radios and TV the most popular song will be The Star Spangled Banner.
Jumping children with balloons red, white, blue floating, and
Under tents the barbecues will be cooking those big ball park dogs.
Love of the nation will be on every lip and in every single heart, then
Years of patriotic events will be re-enacted outside in a show of national pride.
___________________________________
June 29, 2015
Acrostic
For the contest, Celebrate Independence, sponsor, Kim Merryman
Third Place
There was talk about the nuclear bomb
There was a war going on in Vietnam
It was on the news, the drummers were drumming
Look out America, the British are coming
We couldn't wait to turn our radios on
To hear Paul and Ringo, George and John
What could make you feel more alive
Than to rise in the morning to the Dave Clark Five
To be part of it was so much fun
With Eric and "The House of the Rising Sun"
Music sent from heaven above
Peter and Gordon "A World Without Love"
There was Peter Noone and Herman's Hermits sound
While Petula Clark took us all "Downtown"
The country went wild when Donovan hit the stage
Tom Jones and Dusty Springfield were part of the rage
Oh Lord one day please take me back
To hear Marianne Faithful and Cilla Black
The Rolling Stones conquered every city
And Manfred Mann sang "Do Wah Diddy"
The Kinks and Troggs took us for a whirl
The New Seekers sang about "Georgy Girl"
British fashion was everywhere
And the Zombies told us "She's Not There"
Now James bond was doing some super spying
Gerry said, "Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying"
Freddie and the Dreamers sang "I'm Telling You Now"
The British had conquered America somehow
The Searchers, The Hollies, meaningful words
Chad and Jeremy, don't forget the Yardbirds
If there was a way we could do it again
We'd have another invasion like we did back then.
If you weren't there, it might be hard to understand. The music had meaning
with political statements and social statements written between the lines. the
young were actively involved and the apathy that exists now was hard to find. The
fun music was fun music and the message music set a tone for a generation. It
was a great time to be growing up in spite of the turmoil in the world, a world we
thought we all could change. Times change, sometimes not for the better.
POWER OUTAGE
I should say outrage!
My favorite T.V. show
Blacked-out just like (snap!) that
Wind was like a hurricane
Scared hell out of the cat
Whole trees blown over
My house dark as Asa’s tomb
I’m feeling my way
Stumbling on familiar things
Cursing the maddening gloom
Think of olden days
Young Abe reading by hearth side
Chuck sails by moonlight
Hot water heated on the stove
Long before Ben Franklin’s kite
What a hardy brood
Those ancient folk must have been
We should be ashamed
Radios televisions
Millionaires playing sports games
Time to offer thanks
How lucky we are oh Lord
(snap!) Electricity!
Thank you Lord power restored
Maybe they’ll have a rerun
T h e S a l e
Near the end of a lonely road
A home where an old man did reside
Traffic parked all around the house
Contents "For Sale", - the sign implied
"He'd lived there as long as he could, -
Ninety four years", I heard someone say
Immediate family, now passed on
At last, now he has moved away
For decades, this had been his home
How sad, he had to go
Feeble hands, prevented tasks
And steps were getting slow
Furniture, battered, worn and aged
Old radios, fans, and silverware
Used garden tools, and books galore
Some ordinary, but others rare
So many items, inside and out
In their time, each held their place
Now little more than a cast-a-way
His new address, had little space
I'm sure within his memory bank
Many younger days he recalled
A telephone, - - the first TV,
Or when a furnace, was installed
Only a few items, now adorn
The place he now abides
A bed, a chair,and one small table
A few special pictures, are his pride
There to live out his final days
Lonely hours, seem to have no end
A highlight that would mean the most,
Is a visit from family, - or a friend
Colan L Hiatt = 09-24-13
© All Rights Reserved
THE CRADLE OF MANKIND.
The archaeologists of this era
Were about to excitedly find
The Cradle of Mankind
Where the origins of humankind
Had been found, the news was about
To be revealed to the whole world
And so the ears of our globe were glued
To their radios in 1947, they heard,
About this mammoth remarkable finding
Painstakingly excavated , it’s evidence binding.
Mrs Ples’s skull was found,
And with carbon dating,
Archaeologists were rewarded
Most certainly worth waiting!
Estimated to be 2.3 million years’ old.
Mrs Ples (as the archaeologists named her)
All this time had been hidden
For many a year
But there is still more to hear!
It is said that she is the missing link,
We may each think what we want to think!
Archaeologists were about to discover
Other unbelievable phenomena,
Which supported the belief of evolution,
And steered many into total confusion!
God is omnipresent, and
The Alpha and Omega, He has been
Looking down on earth for millenniums
From the beginning of time,
He is omniscient, He believes in me,
And I in Him, He is the Divine!
The Sterkfontein caves are now famous,
Planet Earth was listening, this story was big!
In 1998 archaeologists discover
Yet another important find,
This boggled the mind!
They laboriously dug in this one excavation
Over twenty years, Layer upon layer of ground
And thus Little Foot was found!
He, some say it’s a she, was gently assembled,
And lies in a Pretoria museum,
Together with Mrs Ples,
Archaeologists still dig,
They insist, that there are still hidden treasures
And take great measures,
To work carefully and diligently
Excitedly say there is much more to find
Underneath and beyond the Sterkfontein caves,
Patiently, waiting to uncover
Yet another, one of a kind!
I believe with soul, heart and being
In The Almighty, maybe He even lent the
Archaeologists a helping hand, we cannot
Ignore these finds, they are not fantasy but real
Furthermore we were given the gift of logic,
And ultimately the archaeologists will kneel,
And praise and thank God Almighty!
broken people-
for in the end we are all broken
stumbling and choking
disguising hurt
thinker poet storyteller
Richard Lamoureux
a deep insight into
suffering and life
the homeless and the outcast
with compassion
no matter creed color rich or poor
seeing
beneath the surface to the soul
thinker poet storyteller
makes us stop and ponder our life
in his own words
GOD is a source of
all our creativity
we are radios
of a sort
and if we
tune in
to the right channel
we can access the message
his poems well expressed powerful
thinker
poet
storyteller
fights
against racism
he has a message to tell
GOD is good
in poetry
tough themes broken lifes
straight from the heart
be yourself
write with depth
be unique and genuine
capture life
he inspires us to write
and in the end
we are all broken
people
stumbling
and choking and disguising
our hurts Richard
thanks for the compassion
with which
your share your thoughts with us
___________________________
September 2, 2015
Free Verse
Inspiration - Broken People written by Richard Lamoureux
and the line - for in the end we are all broken stumbling and choking disguising hurt
For the contest, Who Do You Think I Am, sponsor, Richard Lamoureux
First Place
Quiet Please
I was born and grew up on the relatively quiet side of the planet. Nevertheless, there was a train line right through the heart of town.
And there were also cotton gins, tractors, and lots of farm machinery.
Obviously, we were not exactly 'noise free'; but basically, the noise I heard most were an occasional barking dog, crickets, bull frogs, and rooster crows.
After high school, I relocated to a very large northern city by a great lake. Suddenly, all my familiar noises of crickets, frogs, and roosters were gone.
Without warning, the sounds of combines and crop dusting planes disappeared They were replaced by commuter buses, automobile horns, sirens, and garbage trucks.
In my late 20's, I moved again to a large western city by the Bay and the Pacific. There, for 30 days, my family and I resided in a motel embraced by a street car rail line. Also there, we were annoyed by rap and rock from loud radios, and more sirens. But also there, we slept sweetly by the ocean waves and fog horns; gentler noises.
03082017 PS Contest, The Noises, Shadow Hamilton
The Real Christmas
From Black Friday to Christmas Eve,
presents to purchase and wrap.
Office and family parties, visits to relatives
platters of food and gallons of alcohol.
Trees dressed to the nines in dangling baubles
and twinkling lights.
Continuous Christmas carols blaring from radios
and loud speakers.
Wreaths and decorations to adorn tables,
night stands, credenzas, book shelves.
Lights hung in strings so large that rows
of houses look like runways for planes.
Inflatable Santas, snowmen, reindeer and nutcrackers
compete for space in yards.
Nativities, pageants, plays special music
consume congregations.
Is this the real Christmas?
Or perhaps it is-
A silent night, two thousand years ago
in a dimly lit cave.
A babe wrapped in woolen clothes
lying in a sheep’s feeding trough.
Only shepherds and loving parents
in attendance.
An infant destined to change history.
The future savior of the world.
AntiPoem 2
You know only one thing and that is:
Dying is not on the agenda.
Let us march now inside St. Mary’s,
March reverently through these green repentant doors,
These holy portals to grace and absolution,
Into a stain-glassed sanctuary of sinners kneeling in disguise,
These sullied souls coming in through the out door again,
Figuring death is furloughed from the crucifixion business,
Two thousand blurry years later.
Let us still march forward now to the glassed tabernacle,
Resting up there ensconced upon the marble altar,
Beyond human touch;
The host inside now transubstantiating as with earthen time,
From dry crusty oatmeal,
To omnipotent King of the Universe.
The boy holds his new Sunday missal,
As the family drives to ancient St. Joseph’s,
Up the asphalt hill, there on Gold Street,
Amidst the tentative Yuletide presentations,
Of tinsel-lit trees and blinking avenue abodes.
In the distance Lady Lassen wears a white bonnet,
As the Redding Christmas Tree stands exuberant,
Seventy-three feet into the icy air on Market Street,
A rainbow-glowing giant with a thousand staring eyes.
Brenda Lee is singing,
Rocking Around the Christmas Tree,
From blaring radios inside Oldsmobiles and Studebakers,
Cruising Placer Street to the Cascade showing Butterfield 8.
The boy is counting the neon cocktails,
While riding in the backseat on blue polyurethane,
His father is intently driving the blue ’58 impala,
Into a gravelly hilltop parking lot.
Blaring outward from the church there I heard voices,
A bubbling sacramental bouillabaisse of silent
Parishioners all genuflecting in pristine Latin confusion.
The girls choir wearing skirts of curious plaid, is
Singing loudly and softly their angelic vocal renderings:
“Gloria in excelsis Deo"
Father Elliot is extending his arms outward now,
Bestowing the final expectant blessing;
He is giving absolution to the captives driving Cadillacs.
You know only one thing and that is:
Dying is not on the agenda.
When I was young, love was everywhere.
Songs of love filled the air, from birds singing to radios playing.
We danced to our favorite songs, we loved to sing along.
Where have all the time and years gone? it truly was only yesterday.
Is it the last call for lonely hearts? we say, not for us.
Our hearts are forever young, dancing and singing forever to love songs.
Date: 11/3/2019 Written
1 Place
LAST CALL FOR LONELY HEARTS Contest Judged: 11/13/2019 Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Vacuum tubes made a radio too big.
The huge size was something I didn't dig.
That created a problem that was easy to see.
I could not carry a radio around with me.
Besides, the tubes burned out too frequently.
They also wasted big amounts of electricity.
For convenience sake, something had to be done.
Out came a new invention, and the battle was won.
With transistors, radios were made in a much smaller size.
Portability was something we could now realize.
With one hand, we could hold a receiver to our ear.
There were many broadcasting AM stations to hear.
So went the everyday course of history.
That was just a little tidbit of my memory.
Missing the days
When I was the craziest person I knew
This mad world
Has incredibly gotten madder
Radios TVs blaring panic
Humanity gobbling it up like candy
Social distancing
Because society hadn't already
Become distant enough
Do you know your neighbor's name
Do you dare knock on their door
No
Cell phone at the ready
Why is no one touting "fake news" now
So much easier to believe
Words that raise the blood pressure
Society is being restructured
In front of our blind eyes
When the smoke clears
And the ash settles
What will remain
Will the best or worst
Be revealed
Will you slow down
Realize you've been ignoring
What's most important
Or will the social unrest
Already so out of control
Use this fuel to engulf the nation
The future is in our hands
04/02/2020
Coronavirus COVID-19 Cash Prize Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Team Poetry Soup