Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Grey Dec 2019
The first time I heard you,
I already knew.
A good beat, nice melody
You were too catchy.

The first time I heard you,
my breath caught in my throat
As you were pronounced
my new favorite song.

The first time I heard you,
you were already stuck in my head
Playing on repeat as I stared out the window,
thinking of you instead of leaving my den.

The first time I heard you,
I tried to change the station
But you were playing on every one.

The first time I heard you,
I was already too deep in love
to let you go.
Nard Wolfe Nov 2019
Sometimes I wish there’ll be someone stay on my frequency
While everyone else keeps changing channels and pass by mine
Where we could sing harmoniously in the same genre
And start to sway as my feet listen to the beat as if it was a great dancer.
Chandra S Nov 2019
It took years for the physicist
and the meta-physicist
to reluctantly agree.

They took opposing alleys:
One looked into matter
and arrived at its intrinsic energy.
The other looked at energy
and saw matter as incidental analogy;
just a random criss-cross
of cosmic puissance.

They made much ado
in arriving where my good old
three-band radio
catapulted me years ago.

Since my teens;
she had faithfully been
my worthy companion.
With sweet melodies,
thoughtful talks,
rousing commentaries....
she kept me company
through thick and thin.
For a scanty eternity,
she was the only tie with humanity
in my plain, flat life;
lonesome, sickly and solitary.

We knew each other closely;
fondly and dearly
and I would talk to her,
some would say foolishly,
and though strangely,
she always responded readily.

For years sixteen
that Philips machine
was with me
and I saw
into her inherent energy
that underlies every material entity.

#

When she died suddenly
without warning....abruptly,
I knew a friend had gone
but the essence lived on.

We had perfect camaraderie:
She was all intricacy;
body, battery and circuitry,
and the spark that came from me;
ah!!! my art of tuning adeptly.

Though I got newer models and makes,
the heart still beats with a dull ache
for the one who began as mortal matter
and bonded timelessly with my being;
...merged and mingled...
as an undying memory,
in what they call
my imperishable, impregnable spirit.
Inspired by: Loneliness, sickness, contemplation, nostalgia, longing and a Philips radio set.

The radio set was purchased by my father when I was a year old. It was a 3-band radio and came with a leather case that had a shoulder string. My parents would take a walk after supper and I would be perched on one of their arms while the radio would be slung on the other shoulder. I grew up with it. It kept me company for as long as it lasted and remained a true companion in my varyingly solitary moments.
Tatiana Oct 2019
I'm calling for you.
I'm calling for you.
But my words cannot pierce the veil,
static crackles throughout the air.

The raid was a violence
now there's radio silence,
mass graves dug for those
who no longer are there.
I turn the radio off
and sail out to sea.
The ocean neither roars or whispers
gulls glide on winds that shiver
up and down our spines.

It's so quiet.
It's so quiet.

There's nothing left to hear
except our own crying.

Our own crying.
Allyssa Oct 2019
The hint of Newport’s wafted off of your sweater,
The small glow of the radio illuminated your soft face,
The way your eyes held mine in a longing glance.
Your lips were parted slightly,
Small short breaths were shared between us,
Faces inches apart.
I could smell the soft scent of you on your mouth,
Hands brushing against each other in need of intertwining our fingers.
We could close the distance,
Feel the way our lips connected and danced with slow anticipation,
Tasting each other’s need.
Hair pulled,
The aggressive want to touch you,
To be closer to you,
To feel you, feel me.
“Don’t catch feelings,”
You said to me.
“I won’t, I promise.”
I lied.
I’ve gotten attached to your smell,
Your taste,
Your being.
Your soul calls out to mine but you’re afraid to bring me close,
I know.
Please let me in.
Our late night car rides are my favorite memories I have between us.
Juliana Oct 2019
Static.
Wind blowing.
Lines passing
and passing
and passing.

Freedom.

He turns on the radio.
David Allen Coe.
The perfect country song.
The new country is ****
he says.

We get him a Taylor Swift
album for his birthday.
He laughs, but I love it.
She's fun, she's happy.

And then it starts.
First with Taylor.
Then the Jonas Brothers,
And One Direction.

And then, it's my turn.
Troye Sivan, R5,
James Arthur.

The radio is no longer
Filled with comfort.
Cardi B, Sia,
Endless DJs,
and names yet to
Be heard from again.

Some, yes,
I come to like eventually,
But most,
Foreign noise in a
formally safe atmosphere.

No longer is the wind
messing up my hair.
Now the windows
are barricaded,
Refusing to let the
melody be silenced.

But every so often.
I will go back into that safe place,
Into a different chair,
The windows down,
Music so loud that
I can't even hear him singing,
And I will sing along too,
To the perfect country song.
Ashley Kaye Sep 2019
Are you
the lonely wailing on the radio
or a smile for the screen

The strings do they pull
upward
or down
poor corners of your mouth
sore fleshy cheeks

leave the bone below for your own mind
Cream teeth molded to what the you believed
they want of you

Woman or man or he or she or him or they their
We admonish expectation.
September 2, 2019
Ken Pepiton Aug 2019
nuero
tribal tales, too many memories here,
tuning
to the story channel
...
said Noah to his grandpa,

nah,
Methusalah say,

I expect they imagined this
fixes next,

wait and see,
times like these,

they pass. Build the box.
Radioman, and old voice
Next page