Best 1956 Poems
* Many years now since this very talented, very HUMAN guy left us … those holes never fill, and he is sorely missed. (This is a form I invented called “Tredicum Plus”. *
~
my brother ...
you caught me off guard -
of all those who struggle like we do
in darkness, with the
hideous demons that lurk
I was sure the victory was yours -
that the knight was astride
his steed, steadied -
armor shining bright in the sun
sword and shield, sharp and enduring ...
but alas, it seems the
devil wants the final
fiendish word …
long did I look to you
for strength ...
a flicker of light to guide
me through the murk -
the fog of pain and error and
fallibility that so often
gathers for those of us who
feel too deeply -
who see sensitivity as
more of a curse than a gift …
you understood that path quite well -
walked it many times
as I have …
you knew the beasts
that scratch at our ankles -
those shadowy minions that seek
to rake us into hell with every
step we take in redemption's course
but your light shined so bright!
you held it high and
proud for so long that I took
it for granted - depended on it …
and now that light is snuffed
the black is all the
more oppressive - all the
more glaringly heavy and deep ...
… and empty …
now the path
is twisted, obscured ...
and without the welcome of
your glowing spirit
it will henceforth be cluttered with
ambiguity and question -
each further step, taken in
hesitation and doubt …
tragedy, pain, sorrow, regret
their names matter not -
they wreak the same horrid havoc
and those ragged, merciless monsters
have claimed you …
aye, the sun will rise a wee bit
colder on the morrow, and life’s flavor
is now tinged with bitterness …
still, you left behind a torch of humble exuberance and vitality
and those of us who know the
treacherous paths of life -
those darkened 'parts unknown' -
will hold it high in your memory
and give the devil all he can handle ...
of your mischievous smile
your twinkling eye
and your fierce, fiery heart …
Rest In Peace, Tony.
Some promptly left and didn't return,
Some chose to stay with concern showing.
For a finer life perhaps the first did yearn,
All building lives as families were growing.
While additional left and later moved back,
Renewing friendships, letting memories churn.
Having tasted life the other side of the track,
Sporadically, for School Reunions, others return.
We've now grown older and some have passed,
We now have fewer possessive things to crave.
Our hair is graying and our eyes are glassed,
As our steps grow slower this side of the grave.
But we've lived life by no means just half way,
Wherever we've been we remained in God's sight.
For without His grace what would we be today,
Just old Haskell Haymakers but still in the fight.
I was turning ten and learning the tricks
The year was 1956
I remember that my mother cried
The day that Tommy Dorsey died
I still believed in Santa Claus
James Dean was a Rebel without a cause
Green Door was a rockin’ tune
Patty sang about the Allegheny Moon
Russia’s relation with Hungary thinned
Gogi Grant sang The Wayward Wind
Love was a many splendored thing
I still can hear Fats Domino sing
Carl was wearing Blue Suede Shoes
While Guy Mitchell was Singing the Blues
The movie East of Eden was so fine
A young Johnny Cash was walking the line
Robert Young in Father Knows Best
Gunsmoke was about the Old West
The Edge of Night and As the World Turns
I’ll Cry Tomorrow, my heart still burns
Be Bop A Lu La Gene did render
And Elvis crooned Love Me Tender
In Poland the people fought for a goal
We listened to No Not Much and Heart And Soul
The Navy answered Mr. Robert’s Calls
There was the premiere of Guys and Dolls
Black and White TV had Roy, Gene and Tom Mix
What a wonderful year, 1956.
1956 Newport to Bermuda Race
In June, 89 sailboats at midday
Left Newport and Narragansett Bay.
We're on the way in a 635 mile race
To Bermuda - a beautiful place.
Light winds on the first day out
Even sighted a large whale spout.
Next morning at day light
No other boats in sight.
As there were none we could find.
Are we ahead or behind?
Sailing straight on the “rum line”
Not a good idea at this time.
As smart as it may seem
Don't want to buck the Gulf Stream.
And avoid all it's meanders
Or won't get to smell Bermuda's sweet oleanders.
Water temperature was taken with care
At 78 degrees got stuck in the stream there.
Now things began to change
Wind started to howl and started to rain.
Wind was now blowing 25 knots
We were healing and bouncing a lot
We secured the main hatch
On our way to the “Onion Patch.”
Time to douse the head sail
And prepare for the gale.
Rain and spray came through every crack
Bunks were wet, where we sat. and down my back,
It was now squall after squall
I couldn't count them all.
Shrouds and canvas were rope yard tight
Sailing through waves in the middle of the night.
Thunder and lighting above our tall metal mast
We had to ask how long could that last?
Wasn't the squalls that worried me most
It's the Lightning bolts that could turn us to toast.
The following morning the squalls had gone
But the wind was still blowing strong.
Glad to get out of those Hellish storms
Amazing how well the crew preformed.
But two became sick
And had to get them ashore quick.
Now it was not time to wait
We used sun lines to navigate.
The island is small and there is some risk
We would sail right by and totally miss.
At last Saint David's Light came into sight
Our course and steering had been just right.
Lots of boat damage and one boat went down
It hit a reef but nobody drowned.
Three days without sleep
Are not fond memories to keep.
Finistere was the boat that won
Yet records were broken by almost everyone.
The island is beautiful and there we had fun
But was last race for me, I'm truly done.
When the world was small
my heroes were big
living on a 12’’ screen
the telephone operator knew me by name
when the party line was open and free
on Tuesdays it was the bread man
on Wednesdays came meat
Friday mornings the Fuller Brush man rang twice
Saturdays were baseball, bleacher seats for a buck
and on Sunday to church on my bike
when on Monday the Nun asked where the black eye was from
I smiled and said “ran into a door”
while all the while knowing this was the time of my life
—a time when the world was so small
(Conshohocken Pennsylvania: March, 2021)
SAMUEL SEYMOUR 1956
Concern for the man who fell out of the box,
says this crackerjack kid, “someone help him.”
Only five years old, Samuel Seymour
would be the last surviving witness,
nine decades later, who saw the man
in the theater break a leg, not the good kind.
“I was scared to death,” says the old man, letting
the contestants on I’ve Got A Secret guess
that he was at the Ford and he didn’t know
that Abraham Lincoln had been assassinated,
feeling sorry for the wrong man, who took off running.
2/3/2020
the vintagenews.com
Video of Last Surviving Witness of Lincoln’s Assassination Recounting the Event
The Vinaceous Valentine 1956
As Remembered: by Tom
2-24-2020
Nothing hurt more than perfidy of this friend,
I can still hear her words, “you are so uncouth.”
but it didn’t take too long for my heart to mend,
what rendered the pain, was that it wasn’t the truth.
How refined could either be at age sixteen
not old enough to avoid a tongue twister.
Though I still thought of her as my beauty queen
I proceeded to see her younger sister.
Orphans line up
their brown shoes
have yet to learn
to be silent
The Air of a Different Century
David J Walker
And to think
I remember days in 1956
Not that they mattered to anyone
As young as me
Only that the sky was clear and
I breathed the air
of different century
where it rained on me
in the fall
and the snow was pure and
fell on all who braved the
winter storms of 1956
the hustler and bustlers drove cars
and took buses to
downtown Denver waiting
for golden flakes to fall
from the capital dome
It was my 1956 Home
They say a picture may paint a thousand words
but I can't read what he wrote
household paint poured onto a horizontal surface
ain't what I call works of note
splashed with no pre-planned end-result
for art's sake to me does not art make
known for his 'drip technique'
yes he was a drip and no mistake
yet a few of his spills sold for millions
long after his prime
as a fool and his money are soon parted
and you can fool some all of the time
but if we pry the boards from his studio floor
and hang them on the wall
why it would be far more relevant
tho' still takes no skill at all
his splotches are not pictures of poppies
nor pansies petunias or hollyhocks
in fact they're really nothing more
than just a load of Pollocks