Listen to the rock’n’roll of the fifties
alive, raw, unfiltered, throbbing
away in your ears, your veins, your pulse
racing along with your feet…
From Elvis to Little Richard
Jerry Lee Lewis to Richie Valens
You’ll squirm, you’ll wiggle, your heart’ll
giggle ~ it’ll keep you off-balance
Don McClean sang of the day
the music died
I say 50’s rock is here forever
to stay ~ never ever to go away
We used to celebrate the fourth of July with our cousins.
Barbecuing food, and attending the parade up town on the square.
Sometimes we decorated our bikes with streamers and rode in the parade.
My cousin’s cousin was in the parade, as a queen once; that was nice.
Our families got along well, and my Daddy liked being with his brother.
We kids would go back up town in the afternoon to attend the carnival.
Sometimes our Daddies would be there too trying to win teddy bears.
But our mothers usually stayed home to do something else.
I have fond memories of dressing like my cousin on the 4th of July.
I always dressed like my identical twin, but dressing like Lou was special.
Her little brother Jerry and my little brother Richard were much younger.
Nice they had someone to sit with during the fireworks at nine p.m.
Welcome to the fifty’s diner
Where there are chrome stools
Black, red and white leather seats
A checkered floor
Everything matches
A soda machine is standing ready
The chef is heating up the fryer
Burgers and fries are the main stay
The waitress has filled the ketchup bottles
There are also mustard bottles, and salt and pepper shakers
Staff is ready for school to dismiss
So, the munching, and conversing can begin.
I stare at the nostalgic art
It is straight out of the fifties
When women were dying thei hair
Turquois to match their turquoise car and luggage
Or pink to match their pink car and luggage
I stare at the art; remembering my youth
Thinking pink hair made sense
it did in the fifties.
Janice is as fresh and pretty as a fifties diner
That opened a week ago, said Cuz.
We saw her sitting at the counter
And we saw how fresh and crisp she was
Her freshly-washed pin-curls give her that fifties look.
We wonder if she is related to the hostess or the cook?
Janice gives us a smile and we recognize once again.
What a gorgeous fifties place, we have fallen in.
This frog is straight out of the fifties
How can you tell?
He is a beatnik.
How so?
He plays bongo drums.
He has a lava lamp.
I think they were from the sixties.
And fringed vest jacket.
The seventies, honey
We stared at each other.
How old do you think this frog is?
Unsure, but he is dancing under a disco ball.
Eighties I think.
A well-rounded frog if you ask me.
Ice, ice, baby
You pour me over maybe
A straw to pierce the depths
Inhale the deepest breaths
A fancy glass all fluted
In milky joy I'm rooted
A scoop of whizzed banana
Tastes of pure Americana
The decor is all flashy
Just white and red, not trashy
All dressed up in your nifties
Time travel to the fifties
For teens on scooters suited
All sweetness undiluted
A jukebox in the corner
Soothes away all worldy trauma
Drop a dime to stick a tune on
Whirrs and clicks to drop the best song
Grab yourself a Coca-Cola
Dance in lights from the Rock-Ola
Gals all twirls and frilly knickers
Dudes in shiny winkle pickers
There's an innocence and beauty
As they jive to Tutti Frutti
How we'd love to travel back there
Leaving every burden and care
Just an evening sure to thrill ya
Taste of ice-cold pure vanilla
Nothing Like The “Fifties”
Miracle Man
8/18/2023
There once was a time
political parties merely disagreed.
Now neither party chooses to be civil
until the other will accede.
So with red face they wrangle
awaiting another abate.
Today, it seems disagreement,
is synonymous with hate.
FIFTIES FOOTLES
flirty
dancing
ladies
excuse-me
quick-step
fox trot
hop skip
jive trip
last waltz
so slow
hold close
love flowed
Long striped gloves gave her an elegance
Understated glamour, familiar in the fifties
The sixties claimed a bit of this romantic chicness,
However, the fifties owned it without bragging
Wads of Bazooka Joe under my seat
cigarette smoke in the john
Butting in line for some 'mystery meat'
giggling at boys with a 'hard-on'
This was the kind of mischief we made ~
before handguns replaced baseball card trades
We all wanted feline female cat glasses in 1952.
We could get them with silvery rhinestones too.
I wanted them for sure, when I saw them later.
For in 1952 I was still cooking in an incubator.
These cat glasses were worn by each movie star.
We loved them so, they were glitzy from afar.
By 1962 they were no longer the thing to wear.
By then I was ten. Fashion at this age gave me not a care.
The nineteen fifties were an innocent time.
We could buy a comic book with a nickel and dime.
Our dances were lively, but girls wore shorts under a dress.
Being tossed by the boys, who never went around shirtless.
Malt shops were on corners, and we could have a cherry coke.
We were protective of each other. Friendly, we always spoke.
Maybe it is because I grew up in a small Iowa farming town.
We watched out for each other, and we helped up who was down.
The nineteen fifties weddings were simple and quite sweet.
We served cake, punch, mints and nuts, it was a lovely treat.
The bride and groom were thrilled with each gift, showing appreciation.
We knew how to uplift each other and enjoy each cherished celebration.
Take my hand
Let me ask for your hand
Like they did back in the fifties
Ask the father for his blessing to marry his daughter
Get on one knee
Surprise her with that ring -
Five weeks of pay
Classic days back in the fifties
Boys and men walking to church
With there best clothes on
Girls and ladies dressed in there dresses hair all up
Sunday ice cream
Our pictures all in black and white
Men smoking and drinking like men do
Woman chattering up the gossip like
Ya- life in the fifties
Oh to go back
Living in the fifties
Simpler time
Love forever to one another
Raise a family
Have a rooftop above your head
Ya life back than
Life in the fifties
Duane Bryers drew up the Hilda cartoons in the fifties
This is one, and she is truly one of the nifties.
You can tell she is a full size woman, comfortable in her skin.
She is an assertive gal in each cartoon she is in.
I have seen so many, and they are each rather fine.
Hilda is something, and she has a notorious mind.
She is happy to be full size, which is rare after Twiggy.
She is self-assured in each photo, not a big wiggy.
I really appreciate the pen of Duane Bryers now.
For Hilda is something; a big gal’s current “wow!”
I have looked up his work and I love it more every day.
Each one of his cartoons is a study in play.
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