A Silent Key

A Silent Key is only silent
here upon this earthly land
for though the mic grows quiet now,
their call is still in God’s own hand.

When they cross that Great Divide,
no signal ever fades away;
the clicking carries onward still,
in skies that never end their day.

Their voice is in the whispering wind,
their laughter in the summer rain
their call sign lives in memory’s log,
engraved in love, not marked by pain.

So though we say SK today,
we do not say goodbye
for every faithful operator
still calls out in the by and by.

A Silent Key is only silent
in the time our eyes can see;
but in the realms beyond our reach,
their signal sings eternally.

73’s My Friend

MarkWaldrop KE4WA

It is with deepest sympathy that I post the passing of Ken KU2US. As you may or may not know Ken is the person that started the
13 Colonies Special Event. Please join me by praying and in keeping the family in your thoughts

In Honor of Kenneth J. Villone, KU2US

Across the air, his voice once rolled,
A signal clear, a heart of gold.
From Conesus Lake to skies above,
He shared his faith, his life, his love.

A soldier strong in years gone by,
Who served his flag beneath the sky.
With honor earned and duty done,
He lived with pride—America’s son.

He built a world where voices blend,
Where strangers meet and hearts transcend.
The 13 Colonies—his dream made true,
Uniting many, yet led by few.

A husband faithful, steadfast, kind,
A father’s strength, a brilliant mind.
He found his peace by water’s side,
With Martha’s memory as his guide.

Though now his call sign fades away,
His spirit speaks in quiet ways.
In every dawn, in every star,
We’ll hear him still—both near and far.

Rest easy, Ken, your work complete,
Your signal now in Heaven’s sweep.
The band is still, the key now free—
God’s frequency has welcomed thee.

73’s Ken KU2US
Mark C. Waldrop KE4WA

Saint of the Silent Key
In Honor of St. Maximilian Kolbe, SP3RN

In cloistered halls where silence grew,
A friar dared the airwaves through
With homebuilt gear and humble hands,
He sent out hope across the lands.

The year was dark, the world in fear,
Yet faith went forth in voices clear.
A call sign born not just in code,
But truth and love his signal showed.

Then Auschwitz claimed the faithful few,
But Kolbe’s heart held courage true.
He took the place of one condemned,
And found his crown, life’s noble end.

Now every August, hearts align,
In San Max Church, a sacred sign.
With dipoles high and relics near,
His voice still echoes, bright and clear.

They call as 4A2MAX,
With reverence in each contact.
On bands that stretch the globe so wide,
His legacy will not subside.

For though his mic was laid to rest,
His message lives in every test.
A saint who spoke through static’s song
To faith, to brotherhood, belong.

So hams who tune and call CQ,
Remember what one soul can do.
From Morse to voice, through sky and flame,
We honor still St. Kolbe’s name.

In Honor of St. Maximilian Kolbe, SP3RN

MarkWaldrop KE4WA

  🎙️ For the Amateurs 🎙️
(A Poem on Solar Storms and   
 Signal Loss)

They tune their dials with quiet care,
And send their signals through the air.
But high above, the heavens flare—
And leave the bands in disrepair.

For when the Sun lets loose its might,
With X-class flares that blaze so bright,
The D-layer wakes in harsh alarm,
And HF suffers sudden harm.

From 80 meters to ten and more,
The signals vanish, mute and sore.
On daylight’s side, the bands fall dead—
As if the ionosphere had fled.

And in the north where cold winds roam,
The polar paths are not a home.
For charged particles flood the skies,
And steal the sound from hams so wise.

Auroral curtains twist and dance,
But give no signal a fair chance.
Their glow may awe the earthly eye,
But scatter voices as they fly.

CW and SSB may fail,
Distorted like a ghostly wail.
Yet Morse and FT8 push through—
The hardy modes of just a few.

So hams take heart when signals fade,
This too shall pass, though hopes be frayed.
For skies that storm will calm once more,
And DX calls will fill the floor.

MarkWaldrop KE4WA

CQ, CQ, a call through the air,
Seeking a voice, a friend somewhere.
With waves that carry, strong and free,
A ham’s connection, a bond to see.

“Go ahead,” the call extends,
A simple phrase where distance bends.
Be enthusiastic, let your spirit show,
In your voice, let the passion flow.

CQDX, a directed plea,
“Europe, respond!” across the sea.
Focused signals, crafted with care,
Hoping someone, somewhere, is there.

Q-codes come like a secret tongue,
QRZ—another round has begun.
Shorthand bridges, quick and true,
A world of voices, just waiting for you.

So spin the dial, find your space,
Let your signal find its grace.
CQ, CQ, don’t hesitate—
A call to the world, a chance to relate.

Created by
MarkWaldrop

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