Listening to the static,
I'm one big ear, hoping to hear
a message from the other side;
Beethoven has an unfinished symphony,
Joan of Arc loves Mel Brooks,
Arthur Conan Doyle complains fiction today
is all detective work.
My bookish friend, my literature hound,
These holy Joe's lost in a root-cellar,
These bollards moored in misery,
Mushrooms decaying in the dark,
Lovers who have missed the boat,
death-pale and ghostly.
Radio Voices
Thirty-three and a half minutes listening to the static;
I'm one big ear! hoping to hear a message
from the other side...
Beethoven has an unfinished symphony he wants completed,
Arthur Conan Doyle complains fiction today is all detective work,
Joan of Arc loves Mel Brooks.
Thirty-four and a half minutes and my patience snaps;
I turn to RTE, the writer Derek Mahon
Is being discussed by a panel.
They've detected importance in his poem
'A Disused Shed in Co. Wexford'.
Mushrooms decaying in the dark,
Holy Joes adrift in a Godless cellar,
Sweethearts who've missed the boat,
Bollards moored in misery,
Death-pale and ghostly.
I would store this poem in a cool dark place
and only bring it out into the light of day
for a bookish friend, a literature hound.
This is glorious! I'm so glad I have found your creative work ~
(as for me, I should just admit off the cuff that I play ping pong between "bookish" and an unlit left side of the brain ~ the right side's all there though, assured)
Blessings,
Christine
I would store this poem in a cool dark place
and only bring it out into the light of day
for a bookish friend, a literature hound;
it merits close inspection.
..our writing is so personal yet we are so entwined.....this is good, pax A :)
Reviewed by J M (Reader)
Reviewed on February 8, 2006
Love it Kenny poets do have kindred souls I agree with kate on this one.
"It merits close inspection" :) Ty for sharing your creative juices kindred spirit.
... indeed it does, mon ami... after all, why cast your pearls before swine. It takes one to know one... poet, that is... and nothing thrills the heart more than being seen, understood and recognised by a kindred spirit. If it happens to us in this life, while we are still living and breathing, that is wunderbar... so often it is posthumously that our very great worth as contributors to art is recognised... well... I spose THAT makes dying something to look forward to at least... :)) Your usual 24 carat write, Ken. Love it. TY Kate xx
Excellent work, Kenny! This puts me in mind of the long hours I spent driving through the beautiful and undeveloped areas here in the US, where I would find small town radio stations or basement radio stations after hours of static. Even listening to the Capt. Kangaroo guy talk about child psychology, as though he were an expert, was interesting after so many hours of static and the wheels against the road as my only companions.
Take care,
Sherry
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on February 4, 2006
Such a unique narrative. This is a joy to read.
Static must mean MW or SW!
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
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(as for me, I should just admit off the cuff that I play ping pong between "bookish" and an unlit left side of the brain ~ the right side's all there though, assured)
Blessings,
Christine
hug
Kathy
Regis
I would store this poem in a cool dark place
and only bring it out into the light of day
for a bookish friend, a literature hound;
it merits close inspection.
..our writing is so personal yet we are so entwined.....this is good, pax A :)
"It merits close inspection" :) Ty for sharing your creative juices kindred spirit.
Take care,
Sherry
Static must mean MW or SW!
I’m one big ear! Hoping to hear a message
From beyond the grave:
Glad to know I'm not the only one who listens to 'White Noise.' I swear I sometimes hear those guys.