Recalling the bicentennial of 1976
celebrations galore, folks yearning for more
Not as many festivities in 2026
those that were, considerably muted
Alongside the cheers, a chorus of boos
What say you? ~ Did you notice too?
AI cannot break your heart
in slow, fracturing pieces
or phrases of feeling
like an onion
that doesn’t want
to be cut open
in your warm kitchen
on a spring evening
when the cardinals
are chattering
and mating outside
your modest
windows.
AI cannot feel
the tense muscles
of your lover’s back
when he lays on top of you
and you taste the
perfection
of his sweat.
AI cannot drink
warm red wine
from a hand-painted
cheap wine glass
while you sit alone
on your unswept
back porch and consider
the shape and chaos,
and the untamed smell
of long grass.
AI cannot hear the
softer barred owl
that you can never see
on a still trail
in the middle of
the bicentennial
greenway.
AI cannot write this.
AI cannot feel this,
see, touch, or experience
my precious life.
I am grateful
in knowing
simply that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Born in era of
rotary phones and
Western Union telegrams,
my fingers now dance
on glass—no dial tone~
a frequent user of Facetime.
I carry the memory
and weight
of paper maps,
while satellites whisper
turn left, turn back.
My hands remember card catalogs,
my breath still holds
the scent of old book glue,
but my eyes keep adjusting
to the glare of forever screens.
My fingers recollect
the shudder of a manual typewriter
as it punched its teeth
into the blank white throat of tomorrow.
I recall when cloud meant rain,
when stream was a small river with fish.
Now my hands ache from phantom keyboards,
my dreams buffer between decades.
I am a bridge, a relic, a traveler,
carrying the 20th century
like loose change in my pocket,
spending it carefully
in this bright,
impatient 21st century.
Bicentennial
I want to be a human,
But you will not agree.
Leave me be and set me free.
Give me the independence which you have...
That is all I ask.
Treat me as an equal;
Am I not one of your people?
Am I just a robot, to be forgot?
Should I just be ignored?
I am not just yours.
I am not my own,
I am your creation.
Give my your debris
And I will build a home and find my nation.
I am immortal, so I must watch you die.
Give me a second thought;
Allow me to cry.
I will survive.
I will thrive.
I will upgrade my state of mind.
(C)2023 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
I left out riding my bike down
first street over looking the
wildly calm river artist's lined
bicentennial entrance way where
Thomas Edison Rockefeller
and Ford feasted on clams
my mind wandered about
the timing of the dem lights to
brighten the garden lofts above
the streets soft jazz from
Billie holiday rang out down
old Hendry street my heart strings
mingled with the Sunday drivers
passing by after mass fondly
trying to pick me up leaving
the shops it was noon it was
damp the sun peeked in behind
the gulf today a few children
skipped by carrying balloons
while the fishermen tossed nets
near the shore sand collected
beneath my toes as two boats
docked this was home my life
an yet the Caribbean whispered
to me waves slammed against
the stone walls I felt a few sprinkles
I quickly dashed into the book store
on the corner while the aroma of fresh
French bread gather all of my senses
luring me to a sit down with brunch
tiny raisin bagels diced mangos
inside a vintage wine glass
one thousand sparrows flew
backwards within the breeze
as I rest on the steps of St Francis
I used to know a poet. His slovenly disheveled poems reminded me an alcohol-prone loser’s beard, but in person he happened to be a clean-shaven, well-tailored gentleman who hasn't had a drop since Bicentennial. And sometimes it's just the other way round: aristocratic rhymes on closer examination turn into dipsomaniacs.
poets and their poems
don't resemble each other -
poets die poems don't
The golden cycle of life has begun
In half centurys jaunt into the world
To look back on the times when we had fun
We stared at each other and became one
Sharing sadness and joy, anger and glee
The future moved on as our children came
The sixties came in with our youthful fling
To laugh and throw our cautions to the wind
The bicentennial in seventy six
another ten years of our wedded bliss
The nineteen eighties left a tearful glow
Of anger, angst and bitter scenes
My mid life thoughts had me oft in dismay
With dreams of a maiden much younger than I
On an isle somewhere that no one could find
Your menopause lasted as long as my thoughts
And the nineties left us with a common theme
Testing our love as the years moved on by
The Millennium came without a smile
with ocassional moments of chagrin and loss
And I am still here a more vintaged man
who still loves you now and I always will
And life has shown as we continue to fill
The time we have left living on the edge
Losers Only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Jerry T. Curtis
April 4, 2016
She was born in October
the 24th day
Bicentennial year of 1976
She came in a fighting
A little early she was told
A survivor of life
She wanted to live
Her head always in the clouds
Wishing on fireflies and stars
Has always had a way with words
Sometimes bringing happiness with them
Sometimes bringing hurt
Imperfectly beautiful
Having many flaws
Always humbling
Never wanting spotlight on her
She loved it in the background
Where see could observe
She loved reading people
Their emotions and auras
Finding peace in her soul
It brought her pure joy
To meet all kinds of people
From all walks of life
A void in her heart
She was always trying to fill
A woman of sadness
To the world she was the healer
What others couldn't see
She hid very well
Was she wanted to be remembered
That's why she shined light for them
YOUR EUPHORIA AND DESPAIR
Sad a*s of a f**k
Do not know anything about making love.
Struggling just to maintain a lifestyle.
Making sense is a useless try.
Now you want to stand up for a cause.
The streets have been your life since bicentennial.
In the marching band, you performed.
Making the streets your home.
I hear your trumpet playing.
I have seen your philosophy of life as is.
You always keep a positive mind-set.
You still believe things will get better.
Happy goes lucky.
You are the gambler.
A card shark when you score.
You know your way around.
That’s for sure.
Never a day goes by that you are not out in the world.
And, when night falls you have found a safe haven.
Your knowledge is acumen earned.
Play your trumpet.
Blow your horn.
Your philosophy of life has brought you many triumphs.
This is your euphoria and your despair.
I commend you for being out there.
____________________________________________________|
Written December 02, 2015!
'Neath the Sacre Coeur,
Firecrackers bursting nearby,
Nelly first kissed me.
20141003
People are still hurting because of the blow they've been dealt.
Sadly, you decided to end it all by hanging yourself with your belt.
You suffered from Bipolar Disorder and Depression, that wasn't a good combination.
People are very sorry that you died, your death has brought about devastation.
You starred in many movies, Popeye was your very first.
Your death was so horrible, to me it feels like a curse.
In 1991 when you starred in Hook, you portrayed Peter Pan.
Eight years later you starred as a robot in Bicentennial Man.
You entertained us when you portrayed Patch Adams and when you starred in House Of D.
You also astounded us with your performances in MRS. Doubtfire and RV.
Your performances were unique and extraordinary.
They were outstanding, they sure weren't ordinary.
Everybody knows that your acting was a wonderful contribution to mankind.
It will be a long time before your wife, kids and fans can find peace of mind.
[Dedicated to Robin Williams (1951-2014) who died on August 11, 2014.]
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.