Best Twenties Poems
Thinking back to my teenage years
my early twenties, falling in love
was so easy.
Truth was a tightrope
of winks and smiles,
of the promise of tomorrow
and today was just fine.
Youth
in its wondrous ignorance
sees art were cans of paint
on a cloth of filth has spilt.
Poetry with a guitar,
the weed that drove
us to the depths of revelations.
Dreams that lived in an endless
stream of contradictions.
The Bee Gees asked
"How do you mend
a broken heart?"
Oh the broken hearts
I survived with all its drama.
The letters I would write.
She was Bunny
and I was Rab, short
for Rabbit.
Bunny,
“Hearts heal, but your walk
loses a step or two, it loses its flare.
I miss you so much I just want to die!
What happened to us?
It boggles my mind how easily
you let go of US!
Tears flow as I write.
I guess I will survive
but as so much less than I was!
I love you with every beat that is me,
with every drop of blood that I have.
I am only half.
Without you there is no I.
Say Goodbye to who we were for me.
Say it one last time.
Say Goodbye to every part of you
that I will never touch again.
I let you fly and you never came back.
You were never mine.”
Rab!
Of course I would never send it.
Within days I would be dipping
the little redhead’s pigtail in ink.
Those were the days my friend
we thought they would never end.
That was love way back then.
You would climb a mountain with
your bare hands, change your mind
and ride the crest of a wave you caught.
Who knew way back then
in the throes of my anguish,
in the pain of my lost loves,
who knew how grand it was
to be young and in love.
Can you taste Black Cat Gum in the air
it is the perfume of our youth, God Bless!
20~11~2014
Flirting flappers
Whipper snappers
Prohibitions
Big restrictions
Legs are showing
pearls are Swirling
Charleston’s harking
Lovers sparking
Dancing Lindy
With Miss Mindy
Jitterbugging
Afterwards hugging
Raccoon coats
Rowing boats
Bathtub gin
Fun never ends.
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!”
Back in the rip roaring days of the twenties
Free sex was available and there sure was plenty
While doing the Jelly Roll
Girl's parts they would show
And men started flashing their twenties
© Jack Ellison 2013
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!”
Fringe on edge of a dancing flapper’s skirt
Provocative and playful, enticing and tantalizing
Encouraging other women
To dare be more modern,
Bob their head, dance in public
Changing the world
One woman at a time
Who is willing to normalize bawdy
Usually found in the bigger cities
Two or three years
Before they arrive in the small towns
Maybe never arriving in the Bible belt at all.
He was born young, I mean really young
His hair was curly, fluffy and beige
His skin, for milk and fire a bridge
His eyes, orbs of fiery passion
Favoured was he by Aphrodite and Adonis
He is he that is moulded by time and endless time of daydream.
Bite Size Poem no48
Haha, must be funny,
How I had substantial dreams for my early 20s,
I believed I would have an excellent life!
With a good job,
And possibly even a hubby.
Now in my mid-20s,
No job and no income to woo.
Dreams postponed and placed on hold.
I only have my degree to my name,
Like tying a knot, no income, no money!
Depending on my family, experiencing pressure,
Even difficult to get airtime on my own!
However, I will keep going, no matter what,
Wishing for the break to triumph at last.
I’m too young for this, life is playing a trick,
Unprepared for life's unexpected twists
Is joy just a wisp of smoke?
Why is life such a drag?
No fun to be found.
Oh, the misery of missing laughs!
There is no humor in the screenplay of this life.
A silk Rose, you caught my eye
But you hid your thorns of shattered glass
I grew wiser because of you
First letter to myself - The 20s, the loud decade of chasing titles, performing through burnout, and learning to honor silence
Dear 20s,
Now I am 29 . . . about to leave you.
At 20, I couldn’t wait to be 21.
Adult at last.
But adulthood came with responsibility . . .
and a hunger I couldn’t name.
My first date taught me
I had someone else to think about:
awkward, beautiful, unsure.
I spent time on my looks,
only to realize what mattered
was the pearl in the shell.
My first paycheck felt like freedom.
I spent it all
trying to prove I was grown.
Later, savings introduced herself to me.
I thought I knew more than Dad.
More than Mom.
After all, they were ancient.
But now I know . . .
wisdom doesn’t shout.
It waits.
It doesn’t flaunt itself.
I wanted more, and more…
but didn’t know what “more” meant.
So . . . I chased titles, applause,
and faces that faded by morning.
I thought ambition would fill the silence.
But silence was asking me
to slow down and listen.
By 25, I met burnout . . .
an identity crisis dressed as drive.
I was exhausted,
but still performing.
More isn’t always louder.
At 27, I broke quietly.
I called it growth.
But healing doesn’t happen loudly.
It whispers . . .
through reflection,
through the courage to stop pretending.
You don’t owe anyone your breakdown.
And now, at 29,
I’m learning to honor the silence
that once scared me.
(Published - Medium, The Healing Convergence Publication)
Back in the rip-roaring days of the twenties
Free sex was available and there sure was plenty
While doing the Jelly Roll
Girl's parts they would show
And men started flashing their twenties
In the 1920’s a hundred years ago
There was so much slang, it danced to and fro.
The cat’s pajamas meant a marvelous thing
Something terrific, an idea that could swing.
Whoever created it is probably gone away now.
But it meant something exciting, great. Don’t have a cow.
Another 1920’s lingo that meant, don’t lose it please.
Many of these sayings are long gone in a breeze.
Sassy and sultry from the twenties
Not these twenties, those twenties.
She shows an arrogance unseen for a century.
I am in love with her pearled quail feathered headdress.
Vibrant and alive, she wows me in the best of ways.
Her art deco owl oversees her unique awesomeness.
I feel pride as her artist. She is the ultimate in sass!
The widow still in her twenties and tender
Can an account of her glamour render:
Jesus Christ, just her temporary darling
She, sure to later catch a man with pounds sterling!
Hers is a prison with loosening chain
After six months:
The dotted with pains
And tolerable don’ts.
Even with the longest, a full year
Fully bounces back The Pearly Pear;
No deity to ever aver that she hadn’t tried fried
Over some three hundred and fifty four days somewhat fried
Soon, superbly ready for longish phone calls
And breathtaking male invitations to balls.
With the craziest text messages taking chances;
A perfection of forged frowns at desired advances…
A young widow wouldn’t too long wait by any window
And doesn’t too long indulge her gloomy shadow.
I was in my twenties
When I met a guy,
His heart so real
Like a diamond inside.
He used to tell stories, and I would laugh,
As if he would do anything to make me smile.
We shared tears and happiness,
The tears were mine,
For my heart was like a dry old pine,
And he was as comforting as old red wine.
He lit me up like Christmas lights,
Even when not before my eyes.
I was alone among thousands,
Until he held my hand,
Ignoring all my flaws,
And restoring me like a holy chant.
In my twenties,
I met a soul,
Who nestled in my heart
Like a Taylor Swift song.
With a pretty face and deep eyes,
He became my guardian angel,
And set my castle so high.
He awakened love in me,
Like the first flower blooming after autumn.
He calmed the waves in my heart,
And knew where the white pearl lay hidden
In my mind so deep,
As if he were filled with wisdom.
On a cold winter night,
At 11:45,
I realized he was that blur guy,
Who runs with me on beaches,
And brings flowers every night.
In the very next moment, I felt LOVE,
And magic happened when he spoke those words.
Now I can say,
In my twenties,
I met a guy,
Who was perfect beyond imagination,
Coming in a white shirt every night,
Sitting on a unicorn,
With a bouquet of tulips in sunshine,
Fulfilling my KDrama fantasies,
And tales of princesses and Snow White,
Whom I'm dying to meet,
In the garden of dandelions,
Beneath the beautiful Southern lights