I was a child searching for a voice in an old radio.
Prisonner of a city walled in by freedom .
Believing that only cartoons held the truth.
Popeye the good sailor
vs / The big bad wolf ...
Sinners,dreamers and misfits
aboard an imaginary skiff ...
That's how we used to tell you
a story where the clouds
always came from the east .
I believe in the forecast .
The messiah will descend
from a cloned star !
For the first time I am in love
with a voice that don't spit
a war game ...
I drown in the blue of a bird's gaze
like an angel on the rooftops ...
Neither an eagle nor a dove .
Simply a woman made of soul and desire.
I was no longer a child but I would
never grow up ...
The sparrow built its nest a long time ago.
It rains on the recollection of an empty prison.
I loved that bar in Spandau where in the
beer and smoke I replayed that chess game
with Stefan Zweig and the doctor Goebbels,
listening to a tube by the comedian harmonists
or Marlene broken tune ...
and the loser exclaiming :
'' Ich bin ein Berliner ! ''
It has been raining for so long here
that it became an habbit for lovers...
This damn old radio has gone silent.
I have no children asking
about yesterday ,
and the stones have rolled ,
revealing the secret of the crypt...
There's sunshine over Amsterdam
says the meteo !
I'd like to be there .
Dream on a canal flowing towards the sea
and even further ...
Shipwrewrecked on an ocean
that calls me to this liberty
promised by an old radio...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 15th, 2025 11:30
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell

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Comments2
Lorenz this caught my attention because as a young child I too went up the third story attic of my grandfather and there was an old tube floor radio that stood as tall as me and I was fascinated with it being already a very old antique in 1959. We all want to be Peter Pan and never grow up I suppose now that I have lost my shadow I would rather just fade away. A good write my friend.
It was also an antique from the 50s sitting in our living room with names that made me dream .Where was located the mysterious kingdom of Hilversum ?
Salt Lake City Utah and it was one from the early 30's
Without realizing it I was learning lots of foreign languages !
Amazing!
A quiet yet strikingly precise nostalgia for a lost way of trusting reality. A beautiful piece of writing!
Radio free europe ? I live in the sterile belly of the beast !
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