Wonderful invention, the phonograph. Keeps a man alive long after he's dead.

quote by P.J. Wolfson
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

My mother says I was vaccinated with a phonograph needle. I love to talk. I just love to talk.

quote by Jerry Hunt
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

You know you haven't stopped talking since I came here? You must have been vaccinated with a phonograph needle!

quote by Bert Kalmar
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Love By The River

Love by the River.

I carried the old fashion gramophone,
she carried the records to the river.
We sat and I kissed her while listening
to 1959 records.

Let´s have a dip. Naked we swam in
the moonlit river that cleanses disgust.
Her armpits had the aroma of clover

Started gramophone again, music back
then was so trite, lyrics boring and her
body looked enchanting in moonlight.

I threw the bloody music machine into
the river, she did ditto with the records.
We made love in stillness as trout waked
I regretted not having brought a fishing rod.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Think I'm Gonna Have a Baby

Platform shoes on table tops
I think I'm gonna be a lady
Opinions flyin' right and left
I think I'm gonna tell him maybe
They're puttin' out too many phonograph records
I think I'm gonna have a baby, a baby
I wouldn't be naughty for the sake of naught
Or be different just to differ
I wouldn't sell myself just to get bought
Or give to just deliver
They're puttin' out too many phonograph records
I think I want to be a river, be a river...
Rivers do such nice things, they roll to the sea
When I am a river then I'll want to listen to me
So you pick me up, and you tune me up
And you wind me up and play me
You talk about heart, and you say you know soul
And the way to treat a lady
You're puttin' out too many phonograph records
I think I'm gonna have a baby, a baby

[...] Read more

song performed by Carly Simon, music by Carly Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Another Child Moves On

The flowers in a still life painting never move
The phonograph needle on a record album never leaves the same groove
But in another town in another place
Another child is born to the human race
And another child moves on

We dream a little less each day
We suffer in some new way
Soon we discover a bright new lover
Then realize we were born for demise
As another child dances in front of our eyes
And another child moves on

The flowers in a still life painting never move
The phonograph needle on a record album never leaves the same groove
but in another town, in another place, another child joins the human race
and another child moves on
And when another child moves on
Tell me what is gained when he's gone?
In the great green valley of life

[...] Read more

poem by Beau Golden
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Love, a good conductor

Your tone over phone, neither feminine nor masculine,
Once in a week or so, nervous, and with hidden passion,
Nevertheless, resonates to my senses in repetition
Like a bruised gramophone record, you in my vision.
25.11.99

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

By painting colors and lines and forms seen in quickened mood I was seeking to make this mood vibrate as a phonograph does. This was the origin of the paintings in The Frieze of Life.

quote by Edvard Munch
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Well when I was young, when I was very young, when I was a little boy I don't remember the music I heard, but there was an article in the Brooklyn Daily written by my Aunt about how I could choose phonograph records.

quote by Elliott Carter
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Films and gramophone records, music, books and buildings show clearly how vigorously a man's life and work go on after his ""death,"" whether we feel it or not, whether we are aware of the individual names or not. There is no such thing as death according to our view!

quote by Martin Bormann
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Record

Fearing that she might go one day
With some fine fellow of her choice,
I called her from her childish play,
And made a record of her voice.
And now that she is truly gone,
I hear it sweet and crystal clear
From out my wheezy gramophone:
"I love you, Daddy dear."

Indeed it's true she went away,
But Oh she went all, all alone;
Into the dark she went for aye,
Poor little mite! ere girlhood grown.
Ah that I could with her have gone!
But this is all I have to show -
A ghost voice on a gramophone:
"Dear Dad, I love you so."

The saddest part of loss 'tis said,
Is that time tempers our regret;

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Uncle Fred and The Sand Dance

Your Uncle Fred
on Christmas Eve
at Gran's house

when you were a kid
did the sand dance
wearing an old fashion

man's striped nightgown
and a red fez
(he got that in Egypt

during WW2
Gran said)
and brown

open toed sandals
and Uncle Ed
turned the handle

[...] Read more

poem by Terry Collett
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A personal offense is like a scratch on a phonograph record. I couldn't move my thoughts beyond my pain. It kept repeating, as if I were stuck within its grooves. There was only one way to play beyond it. I had to forgive them, so my heart could take its form again.

quote by Laurel Lee
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The World Is Sad/ And I Am Sad With It

THE WORLD IS SAD/ AND I AM SAD WITH IT

The world is sad
And I am sad with it
Little words, what can they mean?
I wrote this poem yesterday, many times
And today I am writing it again
Old old old
As a phonograph record its needle stuck
Repeating over and over
Its own discordant screeching.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Fireflies Of Love

Fireflies of Love.
Summer by the river of temptation,
vinyl records and turntable gramophone
songs about love and longings.
Naive lyric, but for our young hearts it
had a deep meaning.
Passion like fireflies filled the air, the aroma
of grass and the scent of green leaves,
enchantment and adoration.
Nothing is like first love, alas it never lasts
and like fireflies, disappear at first light.
Liver spotted hands turn the pages of memories,
shiny leaves of youth clear as the river and
undimmed by middle-aged cynicism.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Inkpot is Empty

The inkpot is empty the milkman a dream
No need to wind the gramophone
Innovation has wiped clean,
The march of Orwell’s PC crumbles another zone
Everyone is fixed to the face of their phone
Dance bands just had to stop,
Everyone’s fingers are dancing over
Qwerty u-i-op.
The net has been cast
Far and wide across earth’s dish
Mesmerising all of the caught human fish,
No hook or by crook
No man with such power,
Performs its duty that makes you look.
An electronic giant
Who turned the first sod
Its master just has to be,
The power of almighty God.

poem by Ken e Hall
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

1926

The porchlight coming on again,
Early November, the dead leaves
Raked in piles, the wicker swing
Creaking. Across the lots
A phonograph is playing Ja-Da.

An orange moon. I see the lives
Of neighbors, mapped and marred
Like all the wars ahead, and R.
Insane, B. with his throat cut,
Fifteen years from now, in Omaha.

I did not know them then.
My airedale scratches at the door.
And I am back from seeing Milton Sills
And Doris Kenyon. Twelve years old.
The porchlight coming on again.

poem by Weldon Kees
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Blood Oranges

In 1936, a child
in Hitler's Germany,
what did I know about the war in Spain?
Andalusia was a tango
on a wind-up gramophone,
Franco a hero's face in the paper.
No one told me about a poet
for whose sake I might have learned Spanish
bleeding to death on a barren hill.
All I knew of Spain
were those precious imported treats
we splurged on for Christmas.
I remember pulling the sections apart,
lining them up, sucking each one
slowly, so the red sweetness
would last and last --
while I was reading a poem
by a long-dead German poet
in which the woods stood safe
under the moon's milky eye

[...] Read more

poem by Lisel Mueller
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Spring For Some

Man in Market Town

It is a big door shiny white and wide, isn't

used much, twice a day when he goes out

shopping and when returning; if anyone

rings the door bell it is usually the gas man.

There are times when he opens the door at

night going to a bar or to buy love bought

and consumed in cheap hotel rooms; a need

[...] Read more

poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Progression

See that satan pollarding a tree,
That geometric man straightening a road:
Surely such passions are perverse and odd
That violate windows and set the north wind free.

No doubt tomorrow the world will be too straight.
Five hundred miles an hour will churn our dreams
Like surprised whales, when we lie a dead weight
In an ignorant sleep, and things will be what they seem.

Tomorrow we will hear on the gramophone
The music of the Spheres, registered H.M.V.
By a divorced contralto: we shall perhaps
Meet Adam under glass in a museum
Fleshless and most unlovely, complete with pedigree.

Or else, tomorrow, workers, kings and crooks
Will all have aeroplanes and be fast friends,
In a world no longer divided by dividends,
Where love will be almost as simple as it looks.

poem by Francis Scarfe
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!