Song
Beatles
R a d i o
Troubles were far
Away
I look back at my dad's radio
Shuffling through the channels
Cause the signal is too weak
But my dad will wait in awe
When the presenter starts off at the top of the hour
You'd see my dad fixed in his stool
Still to get to hear the nation address
The words of hope he hopes to hear
It's been many decades now but he's still keen
He's never wavered in what the country could be
And he's served it well
Like a true statesman, he put his family first
The radio brought together the whole village
It's where the hearts converged
And drummed all through the hour
Before the drums kept beating from a distance
That radio has seen the best of the years
From the regimes that got us out of houses to cheer on
To regimes that made it possible for kids to get an education
To the one who built futuristic roads
I bought him a new radio
But it doesn't sound like the old one
But he's eager to turn it on
And not miss the news
The PO£T
Every time I turn my radio on
I hear the same old song
and I await good news from abroad today
especially a change is on the way
but I don't believe all they say
as how can they see eye-to-eye
or meet face-to-face
when east looks east and west looks west
in this so-called human race
putting power in the hands
of people who don't give a damn
will only go so far only last so long
the genie's out of the bottle
there's no going back
where did we go wrong
to be so far off track
embellish or embroider
you can't improve on truth
anything less is second best
for which I have no use
and when it sounds
like chaos all around
it seems no one cares or shares
look to your morals ethics values scruples
and take the higher ground
I use a tv set as if it were a radio
listening while I do other things
my childhood through the sixties trained me well
while I listen to my dramas, I play word games
write poetry, draw pictures and cartoons and paint
when I do look up, the drone of the tv coaxes me into a nap
I love listening to a tv
it is almost as great as listening to a radio
Contemplating life after listening to the radio late at night...
(a found poem)
Do you suppose thunder island
is in the middle of fire lake?
(I can still hear your voice from across the bay)
Which of us made the first mistake?
I have no time left now to go searching
for maybes without answers.
(I did not find those wings or better things)
If you had only dropped in to see
what condition I was in
(after I tore my mind on a jagged sky)
I would have taken a long shot gamble,
(ignored the green grass and high tides)
rode away with you down a carefree highway,
where we might have found
those castles of stone and peace of mind!
Songs:
Thunder Island by Jay Ferguson, 1978
Fire Lake by Bob Seger, 1980
No Time by The Guess Who, 1969
Just Dropped In by Kenny Rogers and The First Edition, 1967
Green Grass and High Tides by The Outlaws, 1975
Carefree Highway by Gordon Lightfoot, 1974
And the radio silence is making me cipher my feelings
Into higher words beyond the expression of meanings,
Making me loosen my grip on reality through new thinkings.
help.
the song, the lyrics, the music.
its burning, my hearts on fire.
listening to it makes me think of your words
sitting in your car singing "ill always love you"
you lied...
you turned the radio in my heart off
you took my heart and the left, left like we didn't love each other
like the memories left your mind.
you're not the reason i write
but you're the reason i write with emotions
the reason i scream and cry and wish i was in the sky certain nights
the reason why i hate going to the ocean.
im drifting away in the deepest sleep
barley holding on, no longer being able to breathe.
Whitneys no longer on the radio
now i listen to zevia
everyday on the radio.
you cant turn the radio in mt heart off anymore.
TV is my radio
I listen but rarely watch
drawing cartoons
writing poems
playing word games
multi-tasking while others watch
I was trained to do this from childhood
thanks to my parents’ radio
and a mother who quilted, knit and cooked
You know
it's not what you know
or who you know
it's what you know
about whom you know
and I know you know
'You know'
are the most
abused over-used
words today
you know
I'd be happy
if never again
I hear anyone say
'You know'
but wherever you go
there they are
on the lips
of all your friends
and you know
it never ends
they're on TV
and radio
I'm so tired
of listening to
'You know'
you know
Thought I heard a bluebird sing
somewhere over the rainbow
I was wrong 'twas but a song
playing away there on the radio
bought a garland and some gum
for Frances the girl next door
sadly due to a bad accident in London
the unfortunate lady is here no more
studio moguls and public pressures
to their shame were to blame no doubt
but the brainless Scarecrow simply said
of her... 'She just plain wore out'
I hear him through the speakers.
He wanders in my mind.
What have I done?
I have one broken chance left.
God, help me
Because I can’t see myself anymore.
A subtle whisper,
But not a zephyr.
Crackle, crackle.
“She is watching you.”
“You know she is using you.”
“Strike back.”
He decodes my reality.
The channels crack with vibrant energy.
“Nobody can hear us.”
What do you want from me?
“Just listen.”
God, help me.
He’s figured me out.
Be quiet. He’ll hear you. Don’t shout.
“He’s tuned you out, you see.”
God’ll hear me.
“But I’m here, so don’t worry.”
“Besides, I’m just burning with glee.”
But I signed a contract or two.
You did too, didn’t you?
That’s not the only thing you’re burning.
“What can I say?”
“Just get your hands a little dirty.”
“It’ll be oh so fun!”
In the heart of the city,
where the rhythm flows,
KCCK Jazz Radio, where the magic grows.
Man, turn up the dial, let the jazz play,
A symphony of legends, lighting up your day.
The greats of jazz, their spirits alive, Miles and Ella, they thrive.
Old school notes dance with the fresh, A fusion of sound, a vibrant mesh.
Be there now, don’t you dare be square.
My muse is confused randomly sways
To songs on the radio that I hate
You know the ones they celebrate
That are fluffy stuff overplayed
I change the station but guess what
She changes it back turns it up
Begins to nod her head scream sing
Every single word like it’s a dream
Another sad love song oh come on
Can’t we put something happy on
She finds a happy song alright
But she sings it all freaking night
I’m trying to write be nice Ms Muse
Can’t we unite co-write a poem or two
I see her dancing on my pink bed
Guess she in the mood for a party instead
From a small planet, somewhere deep in space,
In a little house, in a little room,
a radio sang the story of a time, a place,
sending waves in a flower bloom.
At the speed of light, the songs quickly sped
in a sphere, through ether from my lonely room,
growing from the center, a radius in light years spread
through the cosmos to be heard by whom?
An ever widening spherical expanse
reached stars eighty-seven light years away,
carrying the tunes I heard when I first learned to dance
as they laid me in the ground today.
Are there ears in celestial orbs up there
to hear the sounds my radio did play?
Will an alien know, could an alien care?
Will the songs live or fade away?
Our old fashioned kitchen ways,
way before the modern malaise,
those family favourite, radio days,
Swinging Blue Jeans, Johnny Ray,
Martha Reeves and Marvin Gaye,
those sentimental songs they played.
Our old fashioned kitchen ways,
without plastic meals from trays,
those salad days of mayonnaise,
with fablon coated, hollandaise,
and chicken roasted, lyonnaise,
experimental honey glaze.
Our old fashioned kitchen ways,
mum singing songs of praise,
inside that gravy, misted haze,
where memories are still replayed,
Cilla Black to Doby Gray,
the soundtrack of our yesterdays.
Related Poems