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Poems
Busted Radio
PO (1988 / St John's, NL)

Busted Radio

There is no music tonight, my darling,
This radio is busted.
You can turn the dial all you want.

But it's old, yellowed bakelite,
Worn-down wood grain
Dusty dials and needy needles.

When I turned it on
It crinkled like sheets of aluminum,
It squeeked and died,
Like a heartsick mouse.

Just then it started flickering like a candle
And I thought there was hope,
But, alas, distortions always prevail with us.
There is no music tonight, my darling,
This radio is busted
And we'll have to dance alone.

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

Great job Patrick! I love this and the title was intrigueing enough to make me want to check it out! It was funny and the imagery was great...I Thank U for sharing =Shelley=
For whatever reason - maybe simply the subject matter - this reminds me of 'A Radio With Guts' by Bukowski. Yours, of course, has far more hope and eloquence, but there is something about a old radio that asks for a good poem. This one delivers. Cheers, Lori
This poem sounds like your radio really isn't busted...your using it as a metaphor for somthing deeper...but good job for hiding your true feelings about this certain situation...(i guess) Tori K.