Best Fifty Seven Poems
Fifty-Seven Years Ago Today
With new dress and suit, flowers, and hair fixed just right
The dreams, plans, and labors of our lives would unite
My brother and his gal stood beside us on the spot
To give witness to the world that we tied the knot
We stood nervous before the preacher at his home
Promised to cling to each other; never to roam
Said “I do” to the questions; gave the preacher his pay
Man and wife; fifty-seven years ago today.
What can you do well
with a broken leg there's time
for work-life balance
Through darkness three sons rode the land—
The father fallen like a tree—
They feared the fifty-seven brand.
That death mark made each one a man—
Age fifty-seven he died free—
Through darkness three sons rode the land.
Those years went by like snaking sand,
Their father’s death a memory—
They feared the fifty-seven brand.
As each year dappled face and hand,
His age at death still held the key—
Through darkness three sons rode the land.
The inner dread they could not stand,
When fifty-seven each would be—
They feared the fifty-seven brand.
But as each touched that fatal strand,
Their hearts would numb and spirit flee—
Through darkness three sons rode the land—
They feared the fifty-seven brand.
They met back in school when perms were in style..
Now they’re fifty-seven and wickedly wild.
A sisterhood forged in detention and pranks..
Now fueled by cocktails and cackles and tanks.
Derani and Adrianne? Soulmates for sure..
Joined at the hip and bonded by lore.
They gossip, they giggle, they drink in sync..
And dare you to challenge their best-friend link.
Then there’s Jacqui.. a goddess of stage..
She channels Cher’s drama, Eurythmics rage.
She belts out *"Believe"* with a wig and a strut..
Mic in one hand, the other on her butt.
Michelle may be small, but don't take her lightly..
Her shoulders are boulders, her grip is unsightly.
She once arm-wrestled a guy twice her size..
He cried, she flexed, and winked both her eyes.
Tracey’s just ditched a man full of crap..
She’s sipping red wine and plotting a slap.
She’s single, she’s spicy, she’s dancing on chairs..
Shouting, “Freedom looks *hot* — and I’ve got new wares!”
And dear Marlene, the host with the most..
Baby sis of Adrianne, proud to boast.
But don’t cross her vibe or you’re bound to regret..
She’ll say “ off” before lighting a cigarette.
They toast to the past, to the mayhem and men..
To surviving their youth.. and doing it again.
No filters, no limits, no shame in their game..
These queens of the chaos will never be tame.
To choose you over everything all the time?
They call me insane. I call it.. love.