A Prose Poem
By Jack Snow
Author of The Magical Mimics of Oz, Spectral Snow, Who's Who in Oz, etc.
Originally published 1941.
I am Radio . . .
No man has ever seen me.
I am invisible as the winds that wander the world.
No man has ever felt me.
I am shapeless and formless and occupy all space at all time.
I am everywhere. I dwell in the earth, the sky and the void beyond.
I flash through the air. I penetrate the inanimate. I thrust through the earth’s core. I pulse through the cells of the bodies of man and the birds that wing through the heavens.
I am part of all.
I am Silence.
The frightening silence of the Great Unknown where man stands trembling, stupefied by the terrifying riddle his tiny sum of knowledge feebly reveals.
I am Sound.
I am the chirruping of a cricket. I am the mighty roar of the hurricane. I am the tick of a clock. I am the cry of a baby. I am the prayer of a Mother. I am the song of the marching Soldier. I am the Voice of the President. I am the multitudinous echo of every voice that was ever heard.
I am all Sound.
I Sing—I Pray—every note of music that was ever written in all voices that were ever lifted and on all instruments that were ever created.
There is no conceivable sound that is not a part of me.
I am Radio . . .
I serve mankind.
I inform, I instruct, I entertain, I comfort the lonely—I inspire the hopeless.
To me—all men are equal. I speak with the same voice in the same tones to all.
I am the voices and minds of men long dead.
I am Shakespeare—I am Milton—I am Homer.
I sing aloud the glorious dreams of men who are now legends. I am Wagner—I am Bach—I am Beethoven.
I am all beauty and all terror that man has ever dreamed of.
* * *
I am Radio . . .
All that I am—no man knows.
I am first cousin of the lightning bolt.
I am a part of the electric force that exists everywhere at all times.
I am a fraction of the riddle of life.
I am akin to that vitality which pulses through all living things.
I am part of all.
I am new to man.
I am old beyond all reckoning.
I travel hand in hand with the light that flashes from the most distant star.
All these things I am.
Yet—they are not me.
What I am—is limited only by the imagination of man.
Listen!—I am Radio!
Supposyville’s Good Idea
Heigh-ho for that merry kingdom
Of Supposyville—Heigh-ho!
For the Queen and King and everything
’Tis the finest place I know.
The finest place—well, I should just
Declare and I should say,
For they simply lark from dawn to dark
And turn all work to play!
They turn all work to play, dears,
And do it all together,
And laugh and smile most all the while,
Whatever the wind or weather!
And now the crop of yellow corn,
Piled in a mountain tall,
Is waiting to be stocked and shocked
And shared by Supposies all.
The King has sent his couriers
Down every land and street—
They summon the good Supposies
Crying, “All ye good folk meet
Tonight at moon-up, on the hill,
And, come, be hale and hearty;
The King has bidden all attend
A mighty shocking party!”
Gay lanterns swing from every tree,
The court band twangs and fiddles—
The court cook by a bonfire big
Is heating up his griddles.
Then up the hill in twos and fours,
In sixes and in dozens,
Supposies hustle, all a bustle—
Sisters, wives and cousins.
Now rises up the King: “Who finds
The first red ear shall win
A bag of gold; who shocks the most
A silver bag. Begin!”
He cries, then loud the trumpets blow,
And every one falls to—
And how they worked and pulled and jerked
And how the corn husks flew.
The cook he roasts a hundred ears
And more as they are needed,
And passed them ’round and I’ll be bound,
Their appetites exceeded
Most anything I’ve ever seen!
And when the smallest maid
Picked out a big red ear, the cheer
Most made ’em deaf, I’m ’fraid.
And when at last the yellow corn
Had all been shocked, each pile
Was counted, and who do you suppose
Had shocked the most?—don’t smile—
Old Solomon Tremendous Wise.
He’d found a speedy system—
“A certain knack, just turn ’em back—
Then give a turn and twist ’em!”
He modestly explained. With one
Big merry dance it ended.
And as a party ’tis a kind
Most highly recommended.
Copyright © 2024 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.
