Charisma of a champion
Strength of a Mount Olympus deity
Superstar hero larger than life
A fanclub like no other
A base of faithful devotees
buying into the showman's dream
the illusion
the fantasy
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Seventy years since he died
An artist with so much to give
A talented, troubled man
But his music still lives.
He used simple words
So easy to understand
Presented to the world fronting
His Drifting Cowboys band.
His words and music had
Such an influential role
Crossing all genres from
Country, Rock Punk and Soul
He’s been part of my life
For more than sixty years
In times of happiness
Stress, sorrow and tears.
He died far too young like
Many artists of today
Perhaps for their talent that’s
A price they have to pay.
But these many years later
His music thrive and lives on
So, perhaps in some ways
He’s never really been gone.
Seventy years since he died
A tormented soul laid to rest
But even to this day he’s still
Acclaimed one of the best.
Perhaps so long as his music
Exists in somebody’s head
Can we really say that
That person is really dead.
Three years of 'police action,'
Conducted according to
The doctrine of 'limited war,'
In order to pursue
A policy of 'containment.'
Police action?
Containment?
Limited war?
Guess that’s why
I don’t feel like Patton
Pissing in the Rhine.
War is all hell.
Don't sugar coat it.
Dust covered webs clinging to longevity
oily dirt floors aching to feel the sun
hanging pull string lights swing
eerie shadows a-dance on coal blackened wood
creaking boards arthritic lament
stone walls weeping in the dark
©10/10/2019
Goosebumps Poetry Contest
Nothing Happened To Me – In 1953
Nothing significant happened to me
In nineteen hundred and fifty three.
And the reason for that is, I am sure,
I was born in nineteen hundred and fifty four.
While Watching 1953 Titanic Movie
When from myself wanted to run away,
Does make no difference time or day;
To nothing amounted;
Never had counted;
Was called a loser some people did say.
By no one was I ever been wanted,
And to find me no one had hunted;
Cause was lost;
Had no cost;
Killed by tool being dull and blunted.
Never knew how or which way to live;
Be kind attention to others must give;
Never would try;
Fortune came by,
Had existed happily with much vive.
Jim Horn
This was year I came into this world
so much changed in all that time
many events in society wouldn't believe
let's see if connection do rhyme
In UK Queen Elizabeth 2 was crowned
this great lady even now does reign
such a great example so very faithful
morally righteous without a stain
In the movie world beauty we saw
Russell and Monroe graced the screen
'gentlemen prefer blondes' was the one
simply stunning was to reign supreme
The wedding of the year appeared
JFK and Jackie Bouvier were matched
sadly the president's life ended
Jackie's dear hubbie from her snatched
The first colour television appeared
for just $1,175 it was on sale!
not knowing then how TV would advance
it's moved so fast overtake every snail
So 1953 was indeed my year
into this world I did appear
I maybe wasn't greatest highlight
but still here so abundantly clear
The saddest man you ever saw
Sang through his nose, his notes were raw,
His teeth were bad, his voice was flat;
Hank Williams wore a cowboy hat.
A hundred songs upon the shelf,
He loved us more than loved himself:
He sang of you, he sang of me,
To set our shackled spirits free.
His tritest titles bragged of pain,
“Your Cheatin’ Heart,” “You Win Again,”
And “Weary Blues,” “I Saw The Light,”
And “There’ll Be No Teardrops Tonight.”
He loved to drink, but he loved more
Composing melodies meant for
The words he couldn’t always spell,
But sang so well that they still sell.
A limousine, gold in the bank,
Were not enough to ease old Hank:
He cursed his loves, and feared his Lord
Would pay him back the debts he stored.
The debts were cleared on New Year’s Day,
The coroner could only say
That chloral hydrate took its toll
From Hank’s poor self-tormented soul.
You hear that yodeled freight-train whine?
It’s just a ghost, aged twenty-nine,
That left his flesh in ‘Fifty-Three,
But still he haunts Montgomery.
Hank Williams repeated the above form in nearly all his songs some of which are included
in the above verse.
Pacific Street
Brooklyn New York 1953
Mud-red clay bricks, hot and worn;
brown-stone blocks carved tenements formed.
Concrete sidewalks slit and cracked
where children skipped a hopscotch tack.
Hear the smack of bats to ball
of palm to rubber against towering walls;
Of jump ropes whooshing through the air
of giggling girls with bouncing hair.
Smell the pretzels salt and sweet,
the chicken soup and borsht to eat.
Bubba’s breast, the rose perfume;
seet cigarette smoke in dark hall rooms.
Taste the vanilla ice cream cone
with chocolate shell that
Dad’s brought home.
The hot red fire ball, candy treats
the egg cream soda down the street.
Do whop Ditty songsters
in August’s heat.
Bubba’s calling from window peaks.
And Tanta’s rocking babies sweet.
Brooklyn, Brooklyn in the street.
In my travels around....
from town to town...
I found sitting next to a tree...
a red truck for sale...
that looked like _ell!
a ford, nineteen fifty-three...
So I knocked on the door...
and wasn't for sure...
if they'd sell it to me...
When they answered the door...
they wanted more...
but I gave them two-fifty, not three...
I got it running at last...
and oh! what a task!
I couldn't wait to set it free...
Yea!! it's really fast...
when I give it the gas...
ask those cops who gave tickets to me!
The body's intact...
just one ding and a whack!!
I'll paint it just wait and see!!!