Best 60S Poems
Let's All Drink to Lockdown
by Jan Beaumont ©
I'm normally a social girl
I love to meet my mates
But lately with the virus here
We can't go out the gates.
You see, we are the 'oldies' now
We need to stay inside
If they haven't seen us for a while
They'll think we've upped and died.
They'll never know the things we did
Before we got this old
There wasn't any Facebook
So not everything was told.
We may seem sweet old ladies
Who would never be uncouth
But we grew up in the 60s -
If you only knew the truth!
There was sex and drugs and rock 'n roll
The pill and miniskirts
We smoked, we drank, we partied
And were quite outrageous flirts.
Then we settled down, got married
And turned into someone's mum,
Somebody's wife, then nana,
Who on earth did we become?
We didn't mind the change of pace
Because our lives were full
But to bury us before we're dead
Is like red rag to a bull!
So here you find me stuck inside
For 4 weeks, maybe more
I finally found myself again
Then I had to close the door!
It didnt really bother me
I'd wile away the hour
I'd bake for all the family
But I've got no flaming flour!
Now Netflix is just wonderful
I like a gutsy thriller
I'm swooning over Idris
Or some random sexy killer.
At least I've got a stash of booze
For when I'm being idle
There's wine and whiskey, even gin
If I'm feeling suicidal!
So let's all drink to lockdown
To recovery and health
And hope this awful virus
Doesn't decimate our wealth.
We'll all get through the crisis
And be back to join our mates
Just hoping I'm not far too wide
To fit through the flaming gates!
(Another way of looking at life... poem)
Stacking bricks in a builder’s yard
I was just eighteen, while my mate
was in Vietnam.
I was building for the future,
he was trying to lay the foundations.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
American Bandstand, Aqua Velva Ads, Aretha Franklin, and, the Andy Griffith Show
Black lights, Bewitched, bean bag chairs, beads, Batman and the Beatles
Cleopatra, Corvairs, Corvettes, Chevelles, Captain Kangaroo, Civil Rights Movement
Dionne Warwick, Derek and the Dominoes, Dennis the Menace, and Dodge Dart.
Ed Sullivan’s Amateur Hour, Elvis Presley, the Edsel, and new expressions emerge.
Fiddler on the Roof , Flower Power painted vans, Free love, Fiber optic lights,
Giget, Green Acres, Glen Campbell, Gun Smoke, Go-Go Boots, “Go with the flow!”
Hello Dolly, Have Gun Will Travel,and the Hippie Movement begin...“Hang Ten”
Imperial (the car), I dream of Jeanie, and new phrases “In your face” crop up.
JFK youngest U.S. President, and Jackie Kennedy stylish First Lady,
Kennedy was assassinated and the nation mourned the loss of their young leader.
Lamborghini 350 GT, Lava Lamps, Lady and the Tramp, Lost in Space, Lassie
Mousekateers, mini-skirts, mobiles, macramé plant hangars, Mash, The Monkeys,
Nissan Skyline GT-R, Nash Metropolitan, and Nestles’ Nestle were signs of the times.
Ordinary people seek peace during the years of war and social change of the 60s.
Pillsbury Doughboy, Petticoat Junction,and Peter, Paul, and Mary, placate.
Queen for the Day TV show, bring a fantasy escape during radically changing times.
Rabbit ear antennas for TV shows: Route 66, and Rowan and Martin’s Laugh- In.
Sherri Lewis and Lamb Chop, Shake and Bake, and the sexual revolution start.
Twist to The Four Tops, The Flintstones,The Adam’s Family, The Twilight Zone.
“Up your nose with a rubber hose” and similar expressions are the times’ lingo.
Valley of the Dolls, Volkswagon Karmann Ghia, and Vanilla Fudge, gain popularity.
Wonderful World of Disney, Vietnam War, protests, and “Groovy” words crop up.
Xenoglossia emerges; “Make love, not war,” “Far out,” “Catch you on the flip-side.”
Yonderly Vietnam Veterans return home to social unrest without a hero’s honor.
Zanadu dances around in the minds of the partakers; religion is legal, not marijuana.
Copyright March 7, 2015
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: The Decades
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Gladness of meadows, ill weeds,
children of flowers, mad deeds,
bitter of fathers, iron glove.
Winds are carrying the love.
Noisy city, stone’s moan,
smoky bars, reality’s yawn,
beasts in cages out of laws.
Jim is opening the doors.
Words of rampage, hair to shoulders,
a lioness roar, a flow of wonders –
her mike – harmonious Dionysus –
a potent lion lured by Janis.
A woman’s hands with a handkerchief,
lips to lips, a garland gift,
she’s excited ‘cause of – guess
who’s kissing her? – Elvis, yes.
Peacock’s colors, sharp wit,
a swarm of flies, a scent of sh_t,
by the Sun is burning Phoenix,
a guitar being burnt by Hendrix.
Cloudy whiteness and grey ashes.
Crocodile tears, Megaera bashes,
to a singer a merciless demon.
Dreams imagined by John Lennon.
Burst of emotions, decay of knots,
barking dogs and bleating goats,
shocked by coup a righteous snob.
In his searching’s howling Bob.
Foul air, a stink of zoos,
a worn-out jeans, the century of wars,
Justice blind laughs at beard,
a hippy’s dragging now his weird.
counter culture
damn antidisestablishmentarianism
one, two, three, four
we won’t fight your
stinking war
social revolution
if you
can’t be
with the one you love, love the
one you’re with, flower children unite
sex, drugs
rock’n roll
Timothy Leary, acids dreams, government schemes
Brave New World, Nineteen Eighty Four
The Greening of America, Money, money, money
Hell no, I won’t go, the underground railway
Oh Canada, refuge’s heart
One small step for
man, one giant leap
for mankind
Contest: TWENTYNET
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
(TWENTYNET - 60s)
LOSS OF INNOCENCE
Fab four
Psychedelic colors
LSD powered yellow submarine
Ragas and flower children
Great Society
Female Liberation
Black Power
San Francisco
State of innocence - Garden of Eden
Shake off shackles of this earth
Space race
Gagarin Armstrong
Ask not what you can do
With a man on the moon
Ask rather what happened to Camelot
And the limitless power of illusion
Serpent’s destruction of dreams
Khe-Sanh state of siege
Detroit burning
Disunited states
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written by Sydney Peck
for Nette Onclaud’s contest MAGIC OF DECADE'S MOOD
TWENTYNET - 60 s
Long, shaggy bangs and suntan oil
Attracting the rays through pieces of foil
Transistor radio playin' Beatles tunes
Soppin' the sunshine from morning 'til noon
Soft, summer grasses, the rabbit is loose
Teen Beat in one hand, the other one, juice
Beads of sweat but stubbornness wins
Starin' at summer through dark tinted lens
Time to go in and get dressed for the show
Iron my hair before time to go
Listen to Baez of the war
Yeah life in the 60's, we knew the score
Sit in the Westwood, feet on the chairs
An usher walks in - his flashlight, it glares
Go to the drugstore, buy paint for our face
The hippies are loose, they hang out every place
Get home for supper then head for a bath
Throw on some clothes and go over to Kath's
Get in the car and get ready to cruise
'Cause life in the 60's is makin' the news
Opposite poles drifting apart,
Trying hard to defend separation,
Opposite poles, playing cards,
Losing the game of kings and bows.
When all they did was wait to paint the streets brown,
She sat there singing the song of rains and the clown,
That would come and go like the winter bills,
Swinging and tingling as the wind blew whistles,
Reminding her of the end for her son to begin,
On a new road of pebbles and shoes,
Where he would buy and trade all the conscience within,
To build a town of the glass and blues,
Lying dreamily on the table in downtown,
Singing the song of the rains and the clown,
That played cards and drifted apart in rows,
Losing the game of kings and bows.
I was there in the 60s threads,
we had the skin tight shirts n jeans,
keep ya warm on winters nights instead,
the pill arrived, mind blowing scenes :}
the porkupine has been,
by the quill of ethelred...
When I was a boy,
Just 8 years of age,
I saw - cities burning,
I saw - fires raging,
In the hearts of men.
When I was a boy,
Just 8 years of age,
I heard - Mothers crying,
I heard - leaders lying,
About Vietnam.
And my Mother cried,
Kennedy had died,
In some city called Dallas,
Far - far away
When I was a boy,
Just 8 years of age.
Unconventional, they mocked the establishment
Clad in paisley tops and bell-bottom denim,
With a symbol hanging on necks wrists or belts -
An emblem of inverted V , the birth of protest
Where murmurs from unrest gusted through lyrics,
In Woodstock of dreams hailing Baez, Hendrix, Dylan
As flower-power’s youth signaled change…
People of the 60s wrapped in love, not Vietnam rage!
Although experimental, they rallied a quest
For oneness, for a gentler‘ Blowing in the Wind,’
They lived on the streets to ignite an ideal
Which flashed ardor illuminating hearts,
In a kinship which assuaged a decade, lost
To claim their anthem, ‘peace begins with me;’
Embracing a norm with the grace of harmonious light.
For Richard Lamoureux's People Contest
6/6/2018
Twentynet 60’s
Beatle mania,
squealing girls,
days of hard night.
The young, the restless,
long hair,
smoking joints.
Mind trips,
free love,
Vietnam, body bags and soldier’s disgrace.
Expressions of peace as moral decayed,
Jesus freak’s,
Slang words.
My old lady was girl friend.
My Volkswagen was beach-front home,
one more town, one more beach.
Searching for purpose, searching for goal,
saying, love you man,
we slapped the hand.
V-signs,
Meant peace!
Magic Of Decade’s mood
John Moses Freeman
I remember the green grass, leaves of the trees turning brown.
Walking down the stream not caring that gold lay at the bottom.
Fishing at the dam a stick a string and a hook loaded with bologna.
Laying Pennies on the railroad track, waiting for the train.
Walking through the junkyard enthralled by all the mangled metal.
Playing football in a field of mud after the heavy rains.
First time I had french fries, hot and salty from the golden arches.
Watching cartoons from the playground at the drive-in theater.
Free from the worries, free from the traps
of greed.
All I have left, is the grass turning green, and the leaves turning brown.
Angel bars sissy bars and banana seats
The rolling stones what a cool beat
Cronkite 6pm news telling of Kennedys death
Just a young boy i really didnt understand yet
Mother would say you kids go outside and play
Cigar box marbles jacks made my day
Saturdays came i couldnt wait
Fishin for bream boy did i stay late
One particular christmas i remember very well
A johnny seven i got that was sure swell
I knew my boyhood would soon be over
53 chevy it was my time to take over
I walk with a weight that I never quite chose,
But somehow it fits, like the thorn on a rose.
The pain and the beauty, they bloom just the same—
Two sides of a story that whisper my name.
Born of a mother whose roots ran so deep,
But stolen at birth in a silence that still weeps.
They called it a scoop, but it cut like a knife,
Changed all her tomorrows, rewrote her whole life.
A child of two worlds, yet raised in just one,
Where brown met the white and then the 'old ways' were done.
She lived in between what was hers and what was not,
And that wound in her spirit—I now carry that spot.
The cycles keeps turning, and the ink doesn’t dry,-
for Addiction's Old Soul still breathes in my sky.
But I am not broken, just born from a bend,
Where sorrow and strength somehow learn to be friends.
The roads we have traveled were twisted and wide,
But every wrong turn still led us safe inside.
Even though we ask “what if?” and still cry out “how come?”
The truth is: we are here, just look at all we've become!
If we change our perspectives, our views shift.
The burden is no longer present; -it's now a gift!
For in every scar is a whisper from grace.
A map to the soul and a glimpse of our place.
So I honor my roots that were hidden from view,
And the woman who bore me—for she is strong as she is true.
She lived out a fate that was never her plan,
Yet raised me with hope in the heart of this land.
Yes, I’ve known the dark—its voice a piercing sting,
But it’s taught me to dance when I feel I can't sing.
For the night brings the stars and the shadows a guide,
And the light is more real with the dark by its side.
So don’t look away from the grief or the pain,
They’re not just the storm—they’re the seeds of the rain.
We grow from the ache, from the loss, from the range—
"Because when we change the way we look at things, the things we look at… change."
.... Taryn DeWalt