Long 1963 Poems
Long 1963 Poems. Below are the most popular long 1963 by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long 1963 poems by poem length and keyword.
Lili Marlene
In times of war, love can subdue cynical
(Men separated from their vocation, now filled with hatred),
And quell the beast inside their misdirected hearts,
And free their consciences to allow sorrow’s comfort.
A noisy silence pervades the barracks’ atmosphere,
Where soldiers stir, stuffing duffel bags with miscellaneous items,
While others reminisce, writing letters; maybe their last,
And await deployment orders for the Western and Eastern Fronts or Africa.
Belgrade, a woman’s voice over the airwaves is transmitted,
Allowing for a moment of silence and reflection for those listening
Alone; spiritually uplifted by memories of better times,
They seek a reason to justify this madness of sacrifice.
“My Dearest Marlene,” the pen begins when all hell breaks loose.
By bombs flashing bright, bloody hands write, then the pen stops:
“Until we meet again underneath the corner light,
Like we used to do, my Lili Marlene.”
***
Note:
"Lili Marlene" is a German love poem set to music by Norbert Schultze (1911–2002) in 1938, based on the poem “The Song of a Young Soldier on Watch,” written by Hans Leip (1893–1963) in 1915 during World War I. The song was first recorded by Lala Andersen (1905–1972) in 1939 under the title “The Girl Under the Lamps,” which became popular during World War II (1939–1945) among both the Axis and Allied troops. The song was first broadcast by the German Radio Belgrade station throughout Europe and North Africa, following the Nazi occupation of Belgrade in 1941.
Marlene Dietrich (1901–1992) was the daughter of a Prussian officer. She refused to work in Nazi Germany and was branded a traitor by Nazi supporters when she became an American citizen in 1937. She gave over 500 performances entertaining Allied troops from 1943 to 1946. Marlene Dietrich recorded the song entitled “Lili Marlene” in 1944 for Decca Records (US) and Brunswick Records (UK), which was released in 1945.
Un peu piaf, rien de rien.
One makes memories, what do they mean?
Our small sparrow shall not fly again
when those notes fall on persons unseen.
Nothing for nothing, the time they spend
taking these steps, we can climb too tall.
In searching this earth to find one friend
much does not matter, not much at all.
Her vibrato voice marches to a trill
Edith's soulful songs mourn nothing then.
Tragic lyrics bend our heartfelt will
so truly too, rien de rien.
The torch of love light rises above her
God unites those who love each other.
A tribute poem to Edith Piaf (1915 - 1963),
the most popular singer in French history
Sonnet 98 words 9/4/21
Monica, I tell you that’s an awfully hard door.
I don’t think I should be hitting it anymore.
I’ve given it the works with this sledgehammer.
Yes, I know we are in a big jammer.
How did I know the old man would lock the door on us?
We are stuck in this basement. That’s not too fabulous.
A pick and a shovel is all we would need.
I know you can’t stand it anymore and want to be freed.
I’ll get some dynamite and blow a hole in the wall.
It will cause just a little explosion, that’s all.
You want me to try the door again? Whatever you say, dear.
Just like you, I want like hell to get out of here.
Based on scenes in the 1963 film "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, World"
~ "I think this is a moment to put a woman of color on that ticket."
~ Senator Amy Klobuchar, 2020
~ "I have a dream that my four little children one day will live in a nation
where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the
content of their character. I have a dream.
~ Dr. Martin Luther King, 1963
Today in 2020 the dream died again
Dr. King's dream, a beautiful dream
But like all dreams, only that...
Today in 2020, an eminently qualified
woman dropped out of contention for
the Vice-Presidential slot on the
Democratic ticket for November
for one reason, and only one reason
--because of her race
There were no headlines, Dr. King
No one questioned her decision
No one felt that she had done
'the wrong thing' ~
No one except me and you
Rest in peace, Dr. King
along with your dream
Do you have: "That Summer Feelin"
- by Jonathan Richman (1984)
Finally: "School's Out for Summer"
- by Alice Cooper (1972)
Yes, : "Sun is Shining"
- by Bob Marley and the Wailers (1971)
Because: "Everybody Loves the Sunshine"
- by Roy Ayers (1976)
You can ride on: "Heat Wave"
- by Martha and the Vandellas (1963)
Give you a sense of: "King of the Beach"
- by Wavves (2010)
Maybe you already: "Dancing in the Street"
- by Martha and the Vandellas (1964)
Feel it: "Good Vibrations"
- by Beach Boys (1966)
Magical ... : "Summer Nights"
- by John Travolta, Olivia Newton-John
A good advice in the end: "Take It Easy"
- by the Eagles (1972)
But, enjoy your summer vacation
25.06.2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
We did not try as hard as we could
We got staid and stodgy and old and stale
We gave up after awhile
When we discovered our votes counted less than others
Discouraged, depressed, disappointing ourselves.
We are sorry, child, we truly are very very very very sorry.
Please do better. Please fix the world.
We lost faith in humanity, as we got hooked on screens.
TV’s, I-pads, Kindles, I-pods, tablets, I-phones and other machines
We forgot to be a family, lost our smiles, did not celebrate or talk.
We began to text, even in anger, sitting next to each other
As we typed out our irritation in a squawk.
Sad, sorry, alone, living in determined isolation next to each other.
We are sorry, child, we truly are very very very very sorry.
Please do better. Please fix the world.
We were the hippies, the beatniks, the lovers, the peacemakers
But we were also the ones sent to a swamp in Viet Nam,
Fodder, who were not supposed to get back,
We lived through assassinations of great men,
We saw JFK get shot in the head ten times a day in 1963 on TV.
We watched Jack Ruby kill Oswald,
We saw the four darling little girls who got bombed at Sunday school
We lost our hope, our humanity, our innocence. We lost ourselves.
We are sorry, child, we truly are very very very very sorry.
Please do better. Please fix the world.
The sailor goes ashore.
the night in the hallway paled into a yellowish screen
showing a black movie, 1963
A time machine of memories sent him back to the years
to meet people long since gone.
A family at the dinner table of people he knew too well
the shadow of his 125 years old father was not there
nectar drinking Colibri exotic as Christmas present never received, the one in the toy shop, a red firetruck
with wooden wheels
And he, the son of the oldest man in the world, had gone to sea, and when he returned, nothing was as remembered, differently by the people around the table
A lacuna of missed years, a distance that was unbridgeable whenever he came home, a stranger silent
augmenting the gap filled with politeness.
They had known and seen him grow to adulthood, but his character remained a mystery, sitting in the living room.
They were related to him and knew he would leave soon.
A nurse gently touched his shoulder are you awake?
Yes, mother, I'm home from the sea.
In the 1960's the winds of change were blowing
As a generation came into its own
A feeling of revolution was growing
The seeds had already been sown
It was a time of hope and tears
Of the good the bad and the ugly
Of spaghetti westerns so aptly named
Make love not war protests proclaimed
But the war raged on just the same
The Barbie doll was introduced
And Beatlemania was set loose
Platform shoes were riding high
Mini skirts showed off thighs
Neil Armstrong walked on the moon
"This Magic Moment" was a hit tune
Everyone was doing the twist
To rhythms they couldn't resist
John Kennedy was the new president,
And planned to change the status quo
But on a fateful day in 1963
An assassin's bullet found its mark
And left a nation in the dark
Dr King and Robert Kennedy met the same fate
They were both killed in 1968
By the end of the decade we were left with a sad song
"Has anybody here seen our good friends Martin, Robert, and John
They stood for freedom and justice
But we just looked around ....and they were gone"
Word Quintet in E Minor
Too many tan hearses cruise down my street in 1963
Too many grieving souls cry shattered tears here.
Green throbbing lawns ruminate like grazing cows.
Red-bricked chimneys stand erect in the tall wind.
You and I have footsteps to take as we smell gladioli in 1968.
You look sporty wearing a white skirt and cashmere sweater.
I sit on a bench in the morning sun talking about rutabagas,
As you arrive holding a white tennis racquet made of catgut.
She and I grapple the monkey bars with orange drinks in 1962.
The green ocean of expansive grass lay beneath motionless as ice.
Thoughts of quiet summer shade subside into a lazy sun-drenched day.
Afternoon tides melt into the memory of days spent on a cool porch.
You and I are eating amidst the others as they talk trivialities in 1969.
You are sitting close to me wearing a tight-fitting dress with buttons in front.
We’re eating veal cutlets with mashed potatoes under a hanging light pendant.
The traffic outside is oblivious of our plans to make out wildly after dessert.
Too many tan hearses drive away from my street in 1964.
Too many funerals for the quietly erudite and the boldly afraid.
Green carpeted graveyards yawn with ennui in their insistent desiccations.
Old men with canes totter over star-lit graves behind rusted barbed wire.
Get me inside quickly and as fast as you can,
please turn the time travel dial to September 1963
Get me to a post office in Washington, D.C.,
so I can send an important letter to Jacque Kennedy.
The letter will tell her about her newest son, Patrick,
ahead of time I will give her his four pound birth weight.
To prove I am ahead, and I know what I am talking about,
I will tell her about my time travel, and warn her of the fate
And that her husband, President John F. Kennedy
is in grave danger, warn her on November 23rd, 1963,
If she lets him go to Dallas and ride in an open limousine,
he will be assassinated at her knee.
Trip number two, will bring me to February 1968,
but I will stay in the same post office. Here is the thing.
I will write a detailed letter to Coretta Scott King,
warning her about the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King.
To prove that I am reliable I will tell her that January 30th,
1956 is the day a bomb
will go off on her porch, but it will not hurt anyone.
After a little sandwich, and a drink in a cold fountain,
I will now dial up August 14th, 1969, and head to the
Catskill Mountains,
It will be splendid to be the first to arrive,
At Woodstock, a day ahead of the crowd
of 400, 000, now I am feeling truly alive.
I will be civil, not puffed up or proud.
I will spend three glorious days enjoying the music here,
enjoying the hip-hugging bell-bottoms, dairy cows, staying clear
of the bra-less women and the minds that are a bit unclear.
My last trip is easy. I will return to two days ago, and from breakfast
re-do that entire day.
I was pretty mean to my husband,
and I would like to stop myself from acting that way.