Ivan Pine


Radio Talk - Poem by Ivan Pine

Fifty one and Fifty two and Forties on the line
Very hard to understand, the radio type of strine.

O one to Fifty Ten are on the air as well
Double O or OO Seven, now that does ring a bell.

Static voices and short hand quips, that always sound alike,
, Is that you Mike?

Seventeen to Seventy Three are working among the trees,
Maintaince and grading, as busy as the bee’s.
Workshop and Bathurst, hold it all together
Can be counted on, to be heard, in any kind of weather.

Now the Seventies and Eighties, were a rocking kind of life
Hear it on the airwaves now, means the casuals are in strife.
Lost again, where are we, do we go here or there,
A foreman’s voice, nice and calm, directs those in their care.

Just go left and then go right and then go straight ahead
Straight-ahead right or left, what was it he said?
Finally in a cool dark place, the talkers they do meet
To anyone listening in, it’s really quiet a feat.

The running sheets, Jenny asks, whereabouts are they?
I’ll send them in a voice replies, for when they do the pay.


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Read poems about / on: weather, running, together, lost, dark, tree, work



Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 27, 2003



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