Best Thirties Poems
I just got through viewing
The "Hot New Poems List"
With the names of those I know
and some I guessed I've missed
I breezed right though the first five
Then, right straight down to ten
and new there'd be no need
To ever check, that high again
Then, Flying though the twenties
Perhaps, the thirties I would place
Even in the forties
would be a saving grace
Perhaps the Soup was careless
For sure they are mistaken
Not every poem I have written
'till now, could be forsaken
Then, there were the sixties
and the seventies, AGAIN !
You'd think between lines they,
could s-w-eeeeeze my poem in
The eighties saw no hope
The nineties were amiss
You'd think that I'd be sad
Or just a little pissed
But I'll just keep on trying
'Cause, you can never tell
But, the truth is that I'm Happy
to see my friends all doing well
I want to especially Congratulate my friend and yours
Jan Alison for making the Top of the list
"Not bad, for a girl that writes "Pooh" eh........ Lol
April first drives up in a new Lamborghini,
Everyone knows it is one of her foolish tricks
She will be driving a beat-up pickup farm truck
In thirty days, when time comes to start the planting.
April, she flounces between winter and summer,
Calling herself spring but she is, frankly, confused.
By the tenth, she is tossing around snow flurries
She grins crazily; our warm coats are put away.
Next day or so her temperatures are soaring,
The snow has melted, and we are donning our shorts.
What the old folks always call "Blackberry Winter"
Strikes with vengeance, temperatures in the thirties,
April says maybe that heavy sweater will do.
She laughs by tax-filing day with strong gusty wind
Though ornamental trees are beginning to bud,
There's talk of late frost, April does not seem to care.
Another few days, and she lets the top down so
Warm breezes are embracing the faint scent of lime.
When April suggests a warm spring is here to stay
A blast of Arctic air nips buds with frosty dew
In a warm day or two, sure enough, April comes
Driving her pickup truck full of mulch and manure,
April plants the sturdy vegetables like kale.
Despite late frost, the tulips will soon burst open
Gentler rains, and April may settle down for good.
SIXTH PLACE WINNER
Written April 11, 2021
for "April Poetry Contest"
sponsored by Regina McIntosh
Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.
Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.
Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.
Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.
Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?
Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.
The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.
The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.
Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.
Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.
Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.
Form: Infinite Dot Thirteen Verse Is a rare form of poetry, where by the poem is made up of thirteen lines and within the poem has interspersed dots for emphasis on the spoken word. However the total number of dots must add up to 33, and the additions to arrive at this number should or may have significance. Examples would be 16/17 or 10/10/13 or mystical such as 12/12/9 and you can subdivide the 12 say as 7/5 to equal 12. There are no other punctuations used, to place emphasis on the specific pauses.
Life in your thirties
Your getting old in youngsters eyes
Yet what has happened to the years before
I was born ...educated ...loved and lost
Heart ached for the what was and isn't now
Time passed thoughts remain
Where are the friends I made along the way
They dropped .......like stones .....
.....why
Did conversation die
Or fade
.......Regrets
Yes many...when I think of you.
Now that I am in my sixties,
I look back on my life like the Sinatra song.
I was working and busy until a few years ago,
but then I fell, and everything went wrong.
When I was in my fifties,
I was in the start of a new career.
It wasn't what I wanted to do,
but at that point, it was the only path that was clear.
When I was in my forties,
Life seemed to be in the pink.
Little did I know,
it would soon all go down the drink.
When I was in my thirties,
my life was on the upswing.
A second love had saved my life,
I had a good job, a beautiful wife, and a new child from the hospital to bring.
When I was in my twenties,
Young and in love like a fool.
Dating and romancing and feeling life,
all while I was putting myself through school.
Way back when I was ten,
The kids on the block...we were always on the run.
Except when I was in school,
Learning the three "R's" from those persistent nuns.
I do not remember much before the age of five.
I did what most kids do I suppose.
Learning about the world one day at a time,
Never realizing how fast time really goes.
So here I am reflecting,
on all those sixty-plus years.
Remembering the growth, the loves, the ambitions,
A life of what could have been, now reduced to tears.
How regretful was I
To see my dead body from the sky
How regretful indeed
Why, with utmost sorrow, did my spirit bleed
In my early thirties was I still
Life, had I lived it according to my will
Yet, so many things were there for me to do
So many things had been left unsaid
I still had not published my works
I still had so many things to write about
I still had to say sorry,
To remove from my enemy's face that pout
I still had to make the world understand me
That I was but a creature of humility
That proud I never had been, even if I had not mingled often
Even if I had always preferred to be alone
I still had to say I love you
To those who had wanted to be with me
To those who had helped in shaping me
To those, who, again, had never been able to understand me
I still had so many opportunities left
Yes, I had wanted to clear this world of its ill health
I had wanted to make my voice heard
As one with a vision, so unnerved
I still had to buy that fashionable dress
Even if it did cost more than what I did gain each month
I still had to please myself
For I did know that my life, as all the others, would last only a while
I still had to forgive
Those who did cause me to grieve
Those made of blinded arrogance
As to have caused me to choose, from them, another direction
I still had to learn
This world is so vast
That it is not easy to master it
Why, of its many secrets I had always wanted to be treated
Joyful I became though, when I saw in front me, the gates of Heaven
Thankful, for at least, while living, I never was mistaken
I did choose to believe in my faith
I did choose to bask not in that known as sin
Looking back at my lifeless body
I suddenly wished to be granted another chance
Another chance in this mundane reality
But then, the gates of Heaven did open
And I simply let myself get overwhelmed by its glory
Pray, have I always read in those books of faith
That one should never regret the mundane
For it was all false and illusory
So I walked on in this beautiful city
And forgot all about Earth
Indeed, life shall now be different
At last, Heaven was there for me to enjoy!
Some choose religion as their sacred home for worship and prayer
others choose spirituality, "it seats the noumenon of their soul "
From very young I was introduced to religion, mom kept a chapel in the house
we were taught to pray the rosary and be obedient according to bible laws
I had a statue of Mary that I kept on my dresser and from a young age
she spoke to me and encouraged me to live despite the pain I was experiencing at such a young age...
Later in life when I reached my thirties I went through a crisis,
during the darkest nights of my soul I found the philosophy of Buddhism
both comforting and altruistic to my nature.
I learned from monks how to go within
Today at the age of sixty two I realize that both were gifts
One taught me discipline and introduced me to Mystical experiences
the other helped to re-discover the child within
and heal the broken parts of me ...
Today I work as a healer and I do my part to help others heal
It is all about love and compassion and how we choose to express our
FAITH
Religion and Spirituality, I believe I was blessed to be able to
embrace both equally without feeling that one threatened the other.
May 22, 2021
Old Flossy
by Don Johnson
Brisbane-Australia
It was there on Sharpen station, ....(ranch)
west near Adavale i'd be.
Back in the early thirties,
worst drought you'd ever see.
Five thousand cows were dying slow,
brought from lake Nash to Adavale. ....(droving trip)
They lived on mulga bushes low, ...........(13% tree leaves drought food)
to feed their bodies frail.
I was the boy who manned the pump,
fat crows in thousands waited.
With not a blade of grass or single clump,
those crows for sure i hated.
The cattle bitsa old flossy had nine pups,
more company for me.
For i'd get a visit once a month,
yes it's then the boss i'd see.
The dead cows around the trough did lie,
and i'd snig them right away.
I'd shifted hundreds by and by,
cut and quartered where they lay.
The pups were disappearing fast,
one every day for sure.
I checked the camp and missed the last,
saw snake tracks upon the floor.
Old Mulga snake would breathe no more,
he'd had his last pup meal.
He was big as nine foot four,
when the last pup he did steal.
Old flossy fought him tooth and nail,
he'd bit her also too.
She chewed his head off didn`t fail,
was dying this she knew.
I held her dying with my arm,
her pleading eyes i saw.
She went to sleep so very calm,
passed on through death's front door.
in 1936 old yellow flossy died game!
In this lonely place with death all around you, it was tragic for young Don to lose his
dog. Aussie shepherds (cattle dogs) will defend you, camp on your doorstep.
As the years pass by me
I have more and more of them
The memories, both tragic and joyous
Fill my heart up til’ it feels so full
There are memories of childhood
When I was innocent and shy
And felt the greatest love I knew
For a friend who shared my time
There are memories of me as a teen
When I wouldn’t listen to one thing
Mama probably was happy for me
To get past that age of disagreement
There are memories of my twenties
When I was yearning to have babies
And discovered that I couldn’t have one
I felt just like my dream was shattered
There are memories of my thirties
When I worked as hard as I could
Learning to accept the hard times
Along with the joys of the good ones
There are memories of my forties
When a divorce had me so down
I couldn’t believe it was all over
The years I’d spent being married
There are memories of my fifties
Still in the making these days
The memories are coming faster
As life doesn’t ever stand still
Each memory I carry with me
Is a picture I take from my heart
And press it to my cheek, tenderly
Where it awakens my best thoughts
Memories are forever a part of the heart
Healing, loving, expressions of the moment
If there were only a memory to tell me
Where all this time has gone?
‘What good´s permitting some prophet of doom? To wipe every smile away …’
The orator grins at his drunken audience through make up and mask
Opens the cabaret’s veil in the theatre of forsaken minds on the run
Champagne flows from magic fountains while Berlin falters from grace
The wild thirties dance to an apocalyptic sound of paralized conscience
Outside the toothbrush moustache commandeers Svastika’s march
Torches set light to mislead passion and houses of semitic prayer
Crystal breaks as brown shirts parade their poisonous conquest
Heil to the savage Führer when ‘reality is something to rise above’
Pirouettes swirl on stilettos while boots squash compassion and lives
Caviar evades judeo-bolshevik scapegoats and trains to the camps
Blond blue-eyed conception born to inhabit Lebensraum on the map
Feeds into industrialist’s dream of war effort and armoured production
The white flag of surrender stuck into skull bones and belligerent stride
No meaningful rise of resistance only raised arms and ‘following orders’
When God capitulated and sang his swan song to the sound of hell fire
And prophets of doom cashed in on gas chambers and golden teeth
It’s easy in hindsight to lift the pen from an immaculate ink-pot of courage
But where would I have been when ashes in Auschwitz were ascending
When evil tore into the last bit of humanity in a vile coup of disgrace
As I look into the mirror of history I reflect on the cowardice in my soul
21st February 2020
‘What good´s permitting some prophet of doom? To wipe every smile away …’
Line from Cabaret the musical base on Christopher Isherwood’s 'Good-bye to
Berlin'
Theme for the poem ‘Reality is something to rise above' Liza Minelli
The New York Yankees have made winning a tradition.
They’ve won for years despite periodic transition.
Since the twenties, the Yankees have won many a game.
Their yearly teams had many players achieving fame.
The most successful team in history is the truth
The twenties decade started out with men like Babe Ruth,
Bob Meusel, Tony Lazzeri, Joe Dugan, Mark Koenig,
Waite Hoyt, Red Ruffing, Lefty Gomez, and Lou Gehrig,
The thirties and forties brought some continued progress,
and it continued into the fifties with success.
There was Bill Dickey, Tommy Henreich, Snuffy Stirnweiss,
Allie Reynolds, Vic Rashi, and Joe DiMaggio.
There was Yogi Berra, Hank Bauer, Phil Rizzuto.
Many more players followed having such great prowess,
Mickey Mantle, Elston Howard, and Roger Maris.
They were full of stars that would win many an award,
with Ed Lopat, Mel Stottlemyre, and Whitey Ford.
There was a short dry spell for some years in the sixties,
but they came back with great players in the seventies.
Having Ron Guidry, Willie Randolph, Reggie Jackson,
Roy White, Bucky Dent, Graig Nettles, and Thurman Munson.
The Bronx Bombers’ tradition continues to today.
Modern-day teams are formidable in every way.
Go see them play at Yankee Stadium night or day.
THE UN-BEETABLE BUG
Simplicity, elasticity, beauty in the thirties,
not like some sedans, ugly and beastly
This popular car and it's history from the past,
from it's World War two template, it sure did last
How many know why it's being came to be,
a car for the German people, to what you've seen
The Sixties starts the decade of the Summer of love,
unique form of the bug fits these times like a glove
Born in Germany in yellow, black, blue or white,
but see I desire the color red so alluringly bright
Won't you agree, it looks sexy, pretty and nice?
This models size and style sparkles to burst some spice
Its voluptuous rounds makes it friendly and sleek,
to busy roads and highways surely it can easily sneak
It may look slow but I tell you: you are wrong!
This small car runs like the shooting star song.
Alongside trucks or vans, it doesn't tremble a fear
as when I turn the key, horsepower shy with its gear.
Easy so easy, I can turn the wheels to any curves
soothing so soothing to my sometimes worried nerves
Many a design of automobiles will pass
but hey, my red Volkswagen still holds the class.
The "un-beetable" Beetle bug definitely hits a big shot
to a parking lot you can easily save her a spot
___________________________________________________________
12/30/2015 15.55pm
When I think of all I've done
Plans that kept me on the run
I kind of wonder every day
How I pissed my time away
In my thirties there was cash
Not one buck saved
Not one buck stashed
Sure I thought I could reach fame
From art or science
What a shame
For these goals I truly went
And never saved a single cent
So now it's rough
Though I'm not broke
Just don't live like other folk
My neighbors run out nights for eats
Can't afford such costly treats
When Winter comes they go away
I freeze my rear
I'm forced to stay
Yet I feel the need to try
To make some mark before I die
For in truth these other folk
Live a life that's just a joke
The men dried up some years ago
Their wives plan daily where to go
Their brains are focused on the past
No way to know how long they'll last
So my future's not to dread
Even now I'll move ahead
It’s a Nineteen-Twenties tune—forgive me, I was born too soon,
Going to fake it anyway, and bring back yesterday.
Inka-dinka-do, that old soft shoe—and I danced with Georgia Brown.
Muskrat rag—“can you spare me a ***?”—
And the stock market came dow-w-w-w-w-w-n!
It’s A Nineteen-Twenties song, the decade didn’t last too long,
Nineteen-Thirties knocked it flat, like a Babe Ruth baseball bat.
Black-face minstrel on a white man’s stage,
Girl smoking cigarettes, it’s all the rage—
And New York made that music move.
Bath-tub gin in your coffee cup—
Home-town girl acting so grown up—
Those East Coast boys, her Mama won’t approve!
Scott Fitzgerald and his wayward wife,
She danced on the tables while he drank up his life—
And only Billy Sunday told the truth:
They corrupted the nation’s youth!
It’s a Nineteen-Twenties dance—
If you missed it once, here’s another chance.
Charleston, if you can—
Honey, swing that man.
It’s a Nineteen-Twenties beat,
Hotel ball-room, move your feet.
Flapper with the short, short hair—
Young folks, I declare!
Sweet, sweet Sue making eyes at you—
And a gangster named Capone.
Razz-a-ma-tazz, and that Dixie jazz—
And that famous slide trombone…
It’s a Nineteen-Twenties dream---
Make that sweet nostalgia gleam,
Press your ear to the radio—
Will Rogers says “Hello!”
THE GOOD OLD DAYS – JOURNAL XVI
Looking back from this point
I’d have to make a division
Between adults and children
For adults the many tasks were more
The thirties were the ultra-sparse of times –
Men out seeking work, women with back
breaking chores
The washboard, carpet beater, scrubbing (on
hands and knees) floors –
For most no modern conveniences
The kids – at least this kid – were relatively
happy
They might help out, certainly,
But had not the worry,
The responsibility
Things wearing out was not a big factor
Like, rubber resoles, needle and thread,
sewing machine,
The Model T with removable parts
The everyday things pristine
But people wore out
Everything moved so much slower
Those worn out moved slower –
the worry, emotional fatigue -
One’s age, life expectancy much lower
In these last few, as I reluctantly rise each day,
I want to remember the happy kid
And thank the martyrs, the miserable
For making him that way