I was sitting on a three legged stool
Somwhere in the middle of ninteen seventy
nine.
Milking, by hand,a cow in the byre
When I heard, Gangsters ,
A song by the Bristish Ska band,
The Specials
On the transistor radio.
And it's like when you fall in love
Or when you recieve an unexpected gift.
Music is the gift that,
Keeps on giving.
Im forever falling in love
Over and over again.
The summer of 1961 stays with me in small, steady ways. Bare feet on hot Texas sidewalks, jump-rope songs drifting between houses, mothers calling from screen doors—all of it part of the quiet world I grew up with. The box fan's low hum, the sharp crack of ice trays, the porch light warming the dusk—ordinary things that felt like the neighborhood holding itself together.
Rock ’n’ roll floated out of transistor radios, bicycles waited in the yard as if they knew we’d be back, and fireflies stitched their brief gold through the evening. I didn’t realize then how memory was already gathering these moments, saving them without asking. I only knew the slow stillness of night settling in and something larger than childhood holding me close.
dusk in my bones~
old summers rise like prayer,
soft and unbidden
Diode or anode
Are they enough to remove negative thinking?
Transistor or adviser
Which is best to help one off sinking?
Banister to guide
Yet the hyperactive will still jump it over
Canister to hide
Though expiratory date will not hangover
Resistor or an adjuster
The behavioural disorder are hardly bewitched in rehabilitation
Capacitor or curator
The world remains to all a pleasant habitation
Re-live the nineteen-sixties? Don't! We all
imagine mop-tops, surf, free love and sun,
conveniently forgetting Watts, De Gaulle,
the Tet Offensive, Audrey Hepburn's nun.
Imagine! Mop-tops, surf, free love - and sun!
Transistor radios, Italian suits!
The Tet Offensive? Audrey Hepburn? None
of those can overshadow kinky boots!
Transistor radios. Italian suits,
the spirit of the age - la dolce vita!
No woes can overshadow kinky boots,
The Fugitive, short skirts, the parking meter!
The spirit of the age! La dolce vita!
Your Normal Joe thinks former times were "swell":
The Fugitive, short skirts, the parking meter!
To get to know Uhura, really well!
Your Normal Joe thinks former times were "swell".
He wants to join the Enterprise's crew,
to get to know Uhura really well,
and satisfy that inner yearning, too.
He wants to join the Enterprise's crew,
conveniently forgetting Watts, De Gaulle,
and satisfy that inner yearning to
re-live the nineteen-sixties. Don't we all?
language — the threshold of the universe
tracing hidden membranes
each word, ganglion
where starlight settles into semantic scaffolding.
we are nerve-endings
where it shivers into tongue
quickening drum of chest.
white space exhales corona-fire
self expands, exoplanetary —
each firing a solar flare
reaching stellar drift
where rift becomes gift.
body tessellates —
flesh dreaming treillage sleep
deep in dendrite-forest
the universe yore-wakens
never separate.
intimacy resurfaces —
lowercase, unannounced
sharp as transistor-click
the universe leans closer —
a soft swirl into wrist and star.
the last synapse
burns backward through fuse
recognition in wristwire
recognition in starlace.
the universe
inscribes first
hieroglyphic axiom.
It’s not that I didn’t want
to be a wild thing,
It’s not that I didn’t want
to make his heart sing,
but I was just too young
in 1966,
still playing Barbie dolls
who were homeless
and lived with trolls,
and Midge One-Of-Two
transitioned into Ken
because Barbie needed him
to make everything groovy~
like flower power,
bell-bottom jeans
and my first transistor radio.
Inspired by “Wild Thing” as sung by The Troggs
Nikephoros II Phokas
Actuator has
designed a devise
that is used to increase the television reception in his area.
it is a shere that is placed high in the air
if other in the community
had one
it would increase reception throughout the whole area.
The devise would be mounted on roofs
trees
and antenna poles.
Only two devices needed to connet
it's perfect for all areas.
Free tv again and no
damn complaints!
amplifier
Auto Gain Control
FM Trap
to modulate
the transistor
active element
The Developing World
Incredible scientific growth, real futuristic
Development is an unstoppable progress
Millions of achievements, human creativity
I had a tape recorder, in the eighties,
and vacuum tube and transistor television
But now? Microchips drive satellites in the sky
Forty years only, it is nothing in the time
My mobile phone is a micro hi-fi system,
a television, a post, a library, an office,
a studio, and a lot of high-tech things
I can’t list everything. I can’t imagine.
What will phones be like after a hundred years?
Quote: Bring forth the music dear lover of soul, she's waiting for a drop
A Conducter's baton fills the air with caresses of passion and zest
as a black patent leather shoe taps gently on a varathane wood plank
it sends a sensory cortex vibration to a deaf infant child, pure elation.
With a suave wave of his delicate hand the conductor brings the music
to a regal Orchestra who is finely attuned to a child's ears like fine sand.
Waltzelettos to the heart, the child doesn't hear not does she cry
when a salt and pepper haired man raises his tuxedo sleeves in the air,
the heart pumps blood and resurrects her once more.
Staccato notes each detached and separated from the other,
the newborn listens, lost in a paradise of movement and sound.
Infinite notes from a seasoned Maestro,
head is sewn to the carpet next to a transistor radio,
the toddler remembers louder days
He was a German Maestro/composer and his name was Carlos Kleiber,
today he sleeps in a quiet memorial room, in beautiful Slovania.
day ends in a shanty town
When crossing the bridge to the shanty town
The day was almost over, blank and tired
and due to pollution, the light on the bridge had a hue of aureate
The huts in the township were utterly miserable
consisted of bricks, stones, plywood and corrugated iron
were the roof of all the shacks
a roof that keeps out the rain but bursts your eardrums
In small spaces in the back of hovels, women were preparing the evening meals
How can people live here, washing on a line said it was possible
Children ran around playing cowboys& Indians
for them, poverty was a word that did not exist as long as they got fed.
The night came suddenly to the tune of music from a transistor radio
the night belonged to yellow cures and rats
Run down the mountain
The night did compile
The animals ran wild
Walked above the snow
Now I know
You sensed our energy
As you listened quietly
Water below
Left our echo
My Father transistor
Heard you whisper
I shall take you to many places
Where you will see our hidden faces
The water bear did play
He even blessed our day
Touched many trees
Without many leaves
Ready to bloom
As the bride greets her groom
Sounds of peace
The Heavens released
A blessing so pure
Among the wisdom endured
Spiritually divine
Seen the signs
Felt the Lord chill
As we ascended the hill
snowstorm related
she drowned trying to glide across the lake
violets are thrown in the center
her favorite perfume still lingers in the air
i remember her transistor radio
i remember her potable 8 track player
i remember her walkman
i remember her thingaamabobetta to play 45s on
my favorite was her hidden collection of vintage 78s
rainstorm worn
she drowned while trying to float while breathless under the lake
lilacs are thrown leftmost symbolizing her specially talented hand
here decorated wheelchair is now a landmark of upliftment
i remember her collection of needles
i remember her muilfaceted threads and yarns
i remember her 'brown sugar drawings'
i remember her baby blue sewing machine
my favorite was here hidden collection of vintage quilts
the Mostly Appreciated Parts were the pleasure of their company's inspiration
i sit indian style in loving memory of Them Both.....
Way back in the mists of the 1950's
Transistor radios were really quite nifty
I saved for such a long time
Spent every last one of my dimes
Bought me a red crystal-set 'rocket ship'
A radio custom-built to take a long trip
Under the covers I'd dive about nine
The reception on WABC, New York, just fine
I'd stay up way past my bedtime
Thrilling to sportscasts in my secret shrine
You can probably guess how all this ended
My parents caught me, my secret upended
Yet they saw how I cried over how they'd pried
And pretty soon they too were so teary-eyed
They backed right down -- my dream hadn't died
~ Tears of laughter all three of us cried
January 13, 2021
The Good Old Days Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
gone fishing as kids meant
follow where train tracks went
and by putting an ear to the rails
listen for sounds of rumbling wheels
the river bank on one side of a bridge
was the only access down the ridge
then finally with baits in the depths
and a dry log on which to comfortably rest
on came a new transistor radio set
to hear our town station all we could get
country and rock echoed loud sounds
to be deafened by rumbling tracks above ground
going fishing now means more for hidden life actualities
innately deeper concepts than those of measurable realities
so while the stereo whispers follow easy relaxations
and listen to mellow jazz piano train tracks
hidden conceptual mechanics rising through depths of mind
become clearer defining life with respect a river called time
stan sand
her heart was shanghaied
captured on a sunny beach
with waves lapping happily
in a nineteen sixty-seven day
Beach Boys were singing
From a portable transistor
wind carried happy laughter
he had flecks of gold in his eyes
They were in love
So she let him
put lotion on her back
A brave move for these times
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.