Long 1964 Poems
Long 1964 Poems. Below are the most popular long 1964 by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long 1964 poems by poem length and keyword.
A MATHEMATICAL PERSPECTIVE OF JUNETEENTH
(Apropos of 1619 To 2025)
In the proud history of Virginia,
1619 was a significant year
In relating to the beginning
Of slavery in the United States.
It has been revealed, however,
That there were slaves present
In the country long before:-
It’s documented that in the year 1863,
President Lincoln signed the document,
The Emancipation Proclamation, which stated,
Slaves in the southern states were free:-
What significant number of years in between?
Likewise, note that in the remaining areas,
Slavery was to continue to go on as usual;
Including the southern state of Texas.
The why of the “as usual” was because
Knowledge of the Emancipation Proclamation
Was not released in Texas until June 19, 1865:-
What a significant number of years in between?
It was needed by the state of Texas to solidify its economy,
Since slavery would no longer be able to be its rich foundation:-
Despite the Emancipation Proclamation being delayed,
African Americans in Texas rejoiced in thanksgiving grace
And encouraging faith that their continuous rebellion
Would one day lead to complete freedom and equality:-
However, while the Proclamation may have released
Chained Slavery, political and economic slavery go on;
And so does the fight for total liberation of African Americans.
Consider the timeline between Juneteenth,1865, and
The 15th Amendment ratification, February 3, 1870;
Consider the timeline between the Jim Crow laws
And their practice customs between 1870 and the 1960s.
While you are at it, mathematically, consider the time period
Between Juneteenth 1865 and the Voting Civil Right Acts, 1964;
Also, the time period between 1865 and The Civil Rights Act,1965:-
Finally, in celebration awareness, Juneteenth, 2025 consider
How long we’ve been back and forth in the ongoing fight
Against the Oppressor Syndrome,that continues to delay
The total emancipation of generations of African Americans,
Since Juneteenth, 1965 to today, Juneteenth, 2025: Consider:-
Ok, so much with respect to the title perspective of this poetic pen:
Go celebrate the Ancestors, fueling self with ongoing determination:-
We (the missus and I) kvell for Katz TOASTER PASTRIES!
I prefer to craft a poem
for no rhyme nor reason
expressing heartfelt pleasure
to our highly refined palate
versus presenting tasty, yummy
and zesty nutritious snacks
exuberant feedback courtesy Tik Tok.
Aside from harkening from Semitic stock
me and the missus
relish those (Katz) gluten free pastries
they give us the oomph to rock
and similar to powder milk biscuits
give us strength to do what needs to be done.
Though no intention to mock
popular Pop-Tarts
(stylized as pop•tarts),
an American brand of toaster pastries
produced and distributed by Kellanova
(formerly Kellogg's) since 1964,
which consist of a sweet filling
sealed inside two layers of thin,
rectangular pastry crust.
In 2006, Mrs Katz decided
to transform the world
of gluten free snacking
for her celiac children.
Eighteen years later,
she retains firm stronghold
courtesy word of mouth watering
salivating (videlicet) Pavlovian
salutary, masterly, hardy,
deliciously crafted wholesome food
clinching dominant market share
analogous to stronghold ala deadbolt lock,
a recipe distributors attempt
to steal by hook or crook,
yet unable to break down fortified doors
after they loudly knock
on one occasion
holding the bakers on their break hostage
pointing culinary harmless
imitation edible Glock,
nevertheless drawing attention
of media camera crews that flock
for breaking shipping news
that harbor standoff
with quasi narco traffickers,
intent to rebrand and sell
Katz TOASTER PASTRIES
as mucked up poor quality dogs treats,
where special op forces
heavily guard the dock
maintaining vigilance around the clock,
to prevent goods held as contrabands
and subject pastry chefs to intense torture
forcing unsung heros
to stay awake 24/7 blindfolded,
so as not to see miscreants,
where ingredients of goodies
sniffed, sifted, and scrutinized
by sophisticated chemical analysis,
and thus I now conclude
contrived fictitious poetic scenario
to share such helpful feedback
in a little ditty composed ad hoc
can boost sales for your company.
by: matthew scott harris
(Taking headlines from October 1964,
the poem revisits our shared experience ...)
Monday 5: Fifty-Four East Germans Tunnel to Freedom
Back then, it was not in doubt,
(Richard Burton Tony Quinn):
the Wall was there to keep us out?
No – built, in fact, to keep them in.
Thursday 8: Beatles Release “She’s a Woman”
My love don’t give me presents.
East is east and west is west –
Ringo passed his driving test –
Blofeld looks like Donald Pleasence.
Monday 12: The Moog Synthesizer Makes Its Debut
It’s fantastic! It’s so new!
Music made in outer space!
Now we’ll win the missile race!
How we love you, Doctor … Who?
Wednesday 14: Martin Luther King Awarded Nobel Peace Prize
Hypatia, Gandhi, Jesus Christ
and Socrates … he was that good:
and just like them, he knew he would
so very soon be sacrificed.
Wednesday 14: Khrushchev Deposed
Now, here’s a man who really tried.
It’s thanks to him, that Cuba fright
didn’t end in Nuclear Night.
Reward? His thugs brush him aside.
Wednesday 21: My Fair Lady Film Premiere
Can a statue have a heart?
Can what’s vulgar morph to art?
Entertainment as idea?
Tin Pan Alley’s Galatea.
Monday 26: Eric Edgar Cooke Executed, Western Australia
Cleft palate, hare lip.
Bullied here, bullied there.
Mumbling moron, bloody crip.
Then they hang him. Life ain’t fair.
Thursday 29: Audacious Diamond Robbery in New York
Banner headlines in the papers.
Daring crimes, coolest capers.
They’re classy crooks, they’ll fence their loot
in Buenos Aires, or Beirut.
(In the real world, how'd it go?
Look at 31 below.)
Saturday 31: Lyndon Johnson Proclaims the Great Society
Nothing novel, or unique:
his vision was for Uncle Sam
to help the luckless, tend the weak.
One word destroyed him. Vietnam.
Saturday 31: New York Diamond Robbers Caught
Tiffany studs? More Studs L. Terkel.
One rock alone, a hundred grams,
Murph the Surf’s men on the lam:
they didn’t make Columbus Circle.
Saturday 31: Goose Kills Astronaut
Theo Freeman was his name,
test-pilot/astronaut his game.
Ejector seats are not much use
against a full-grown Galveston goose.
I moved into Rochdale in 1964
My Grandparents and I moved in together
We will not be discussing our ages
Just Rochdale and its amazes
History with a continued stride
As a start off, I who can forget the ROCHDALE MOVIE THEATER
On any given Saturday, it would be a sit down and watch movie flicks
James Bond 007 and Ten Little Indians and then there was one
Action and Thrillers
Those two were my highlights
Speaking of aroma and enchanted senses
PETER PAN BAKERY
Fresh breads, Pastries and assorted cakes
Test of the sweet tooth
My ultimate being the STRAWBERRY SHORT CAKE
Also on any Saturday morning, my Grand Mother would have orders delivered of Seltzer and Soda back then
Regarding water, dazzling colorful water fountain close to Niagara Falls that it’s going to get
Beauty and Mist
At every 7:00 pm hour, the entire sky lights up Rochdale at the end of the evening with colorful eventful lights bringing together all neighbors. Hello Neighbor of our community
That is what you call unity back then
My favorite restaurant was from the past was KING KAROL
What can be said was the Big Box of Popcorn
That’s not all, it the Mash Potatoes, Vegetables and Grilled Sirloin Steak
Never left the Ponderosa
Thanks to my Grand Father in the treat
Rochdale Newspaper, yours truly was featured with a photo of me and a white girl riding our bicycles across splashing through a puddle with the caption stating, “THE NEED FOR BIKE PATHS”
Calling Maintenance
Like flash at your door before you can hang up
All prior years in the newness then
At the Big Mall, you had KREUSS and a Men’s Clothing Store
How time flies and what a difference makes
In fact, we had two malls even back when
Participation was my virtue
You would see me at a lot of events in my younger years
For example, HALLOWEEN
This is just a glimpse of my life at ROCHDALE VILLAGE in the beginning to present
There is a lot more, but if I keep going, I would be like the Duracell Rabbit going and going with no end
Those were my happy times in memory
I wish they would return
Thank you for coming along and giving me the opportunity in sharing my journey.
Georgie
His was a pudgy boyish countenance,
With rounded river eyes and an Alfalfa smile.
He wheezed like a sick tern with repeated asthma attacks,
Playing hard at the various outdoor games and chases,
Of our fleeting childhood years in the inhaling sun.
He perspired profusely in 1964 as he sat with beads of sweat which
Gathered like a water pox above his lips, all in a wheezing row.
Bespectacled Georgie was the curlicued, black-haired boy
who lived two houses up from ours; the one with the green hedge.
He wore converse sneakers, a white tee and blue denim, with
Thick black-framed glasses astride his chubby white face.
His was a temper not sought by anyone, including Elsie his mother.
Georgie was her little boy, but when angered, baseball bats went flying.
Curse words were screamed loudly with one’s birth name questioned intensely.
Stones and large rocks were heaved at innocent windows and nearby statuary.
Baseballs were hurled at the heads of other little boys, with misses near and far.
Toy darts were skipped across baking sidewalks to the bare feet of his playmates,
Producing more loud voices shrieking in pain when the darts impaled their feet.
Oranges and lemons were rabidly picked for the purpose of pummeling one’s nose;
But gentle mother Elsie loved her little Georgie, and his little blue inhaler.
Years and decades sailed by like lost boats in a starless harbor.
Little Georgie grew into a pudgy man with nothing changed except, the drugs.
Marijuana odors hovered like invisible swarms of masticating locusts,
Lurking above the silent brick houses of our street, with old Georgie lighting up.
With a pipe and a baggie in his pocket, my old friend gave up on his life.
He decided not to work, but to take aimless walks down deserted avenues;
Day after empty day he took his drifting strolls into a personal oblivion.
We subsequently lost contact in the ensuing decades, and I forgot about him.
Until recently… I found out…
Georgie’s funeral took place 25 years ago at Rose Hills Cemetery.
Rest in piece old friend, old tormentor, with your little blue inhaler.
Wow is this for real, my boy lollipop,
My best ever destination, da, da da da,
Is a trip to the park
I love it when it gets dark,
Da da da da,
My boy lollipop.
I want to see the big five,
Then adrenaline will pump,
On which I thrive.
I love it, i love it, I love it so,
Da da, da, da, da, da da da,
When i see a star constellation,
And clear skies,
Even the milky way,
I want you to know,
This feeds my always
Active imagination,
Da, da, da da,
My boy lollipop.
I have missed the roar of the lion,
In the early morn,
We get up, shower, that was our alarm,
Am I right my boy lollipop,
And the gentle, long lashed giraffes,
Da da da da,
I long for an elephant’s trumpet,
Da da da da,
My boy lollipop
Hey sweet hubby lollipop,
For you I desire,
Hope we see buffalo in herds,
And a Dung Beetle carrying turd,
Da, da da da,
You always set my heart on fire,
My boy lollipop
The soar of the fish eagle by the river,
A leopard chasing its kill
Hey my boy lollipop,
He carries it up a tree
And eats his fill,
Da, da, da da,
Oh, how I love the Kruger Park,
From my first visit with you
I fell in love
My boy lollipop.
Will we see hyenas or wild dogs,
Da, da, da da
Will it be sunny and hot
Cold nights or not,
Tell me my boy lollipop
Will you be wild with me
We are in the wild so let it be,
My hubby lollipop.
Da da da da.
Wart hogs are so cute
They squeal with delight or fear,
And rhinos, surely
We’ll see lollipop dear,
Once remember, we saw two
Baboons fiercely fighting,
There’s so much more,
Let’s wait and see
Da, da, da da, da da da,
Will you buy be some candy,
If I promise you, clothes
Will be scanty.
Have my silly cap on, tomorrow going to the Kruger Park.
The da da da’s is the background music.
Inspired by the song my boy lollipop sung by Millie Small,
A hit in 1964.
Big five is when you have spotted elephants, lions, rhinos
Leopards and buffalo.
The Watcher
The Watcher
When the seventeen men neared the end of the bridge only one remained in
sight all the others were lost in the shadow from the moonlight. He was dressed
in tattered cloth; homespun gray, and eaten by the moth of strang decay
“No livery”, He cried “no making strides in death” “my life has ended on this
bridge?”
There is a plaque in place to mark this day it says on
The Plaque
Friday June 13, 1864 PFC Dreardon Age 14 was marking time in a prisoner
exchange at BENTON creek when he was shot by Federal Forces. The miniball
penetrated his left sleeve and took off his arm. He bled to death.
His body was torn and bleeding so forlorn the tatters of his homespun sleeve
stayed hung upon his stump of arm there.
War is something no one cares for Mr. Sherman.
MOFW 1964, June 13 Commerative
The watcher was on the water making footprints on the surface when the Federal
Forces under Sherwood marched into the History. He seldom interferes with
history but makes the markers seem to be the truth. He saw the miniball tear off
the soldiers sleeve the man had been a prisoner just released this crime is not
unpunished the man that pulled the trigger is lying in the river at the Watchers
feet. The Watcher broke his prime directive and almost gleefully erected the
YANKEE soldier in the mud.
A Watcher is no more A Watcher for when he acted he lost his power over water
and he stands upon the battlements no longer but He is tearless in his vigil of
the bridge.
Every Friday on the 13th of the Month of JUNE of every year that has its ending in
a FOUR, he gives a shudder of relief certain that his judgment has not been
ignored.
The rebel soldier gives a rebel yell and leaves the bridge.
The Yankee minion that has shot him just turns over once and lies back in the
mud. For this is judgment.
The Watcher roars.
We dragged the slopes to our feet.
On the summit, we burnt our clothes
for wood and there shuffled our feet
in the hush of the falling snow.
We had come out of the scuffed grass.
With one look back in unbelief
exhuming the long trek
the silent keen
puffing through blubbery fingers.
We pulled the hoofed trail through
the trapdoor of our unchained links
foisting for new heights.
Beyond the Appalachian Mountains
the hanging fern on pine dripped snow
on moles burrowing in gashed hollows.
We paused. In that doubtful moment
we rued the climb, succumbing to the assault
upon this stilled millennia’s eerie silence.
All that time the swivelling blizzards raged
shifting soil, eroding avalanches.
Below, burgeoning customs
unmaned the silent dignity of bisons.
All bore testimony to a familiar preparation.
And then, suddenly before our eyes
the solemn ground rose with the breeze
the spangled map changing to the quick:
Chicago Pittsburgh Kansas City
wild barnyards dry-coughing, pop-corning garages
horrent timber ribbed the coasting steamboats
the linoleum walls
the mild Indian piqued he was
by the mahogany cubism of our speech.
We wondered if coming so far
only mattered, we would be content
to build a fire, here and now
and unpack our horses.
We saw little need to go on.
One night the summit might open
up and swallow us all or old age
would come upon us like a lonely neighbour
on a pretext to the door.
© T.Wignesan 1964
London, U.K.
[from the collection: tell them i’m gone, 1983; published in Fire Readings (A Collection of Contemporary Writing from the Shakespeare & Company Fire Benefit Readings). Paris-Boston: Frank Books, 1991, pp. 36-37.]
Shall I write of poetry, back in time - 1964, door of my very first rhyme lined.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_shine_of_autumn_sun_715080
In darkness and in light - ever seeking the lessons the why and life.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/paint_a_picture_black_and_gray_838435
God and nature, ever wrap around me and I am forever grateful and faithful.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/gods_garden_763676
Having found love, i clutched it tight, never letting go, oh fleeting youth delight.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/i_remember_love_725043
My father, wild in his ways traveled thru the life he made but never stayed.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/hush_now_sailors_child_885428
My youthful heroic love, drafted back in the day, and others lost to wars folds.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/a_soldiers_fall_839216
The love of my life shared and gone too soon, living still in memories swooned.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/still_the_one_1059937
The constant struggle of faith, youth to senior years, continues to hesitate.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/prayer_for_our_times_728134
Always looking for someone else, just to find myself.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/faces_and_mirrors_708801
For beauty, for light, inspiration is my deepest light.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/a_dozen_roses_1004568
So difficult this task, especially when ten is all you ask, but the challenge is met, maybe not the best, and yet, it is me revealed within this test.
The shine of autumn sun lingers into Paint a picture black and gray, slipping thru God's garden on display, where indeed, I remember love. Hush now, sailor's child as A soldier's fall yet remains Still the one in a Prayer for our times to see Faces and mirrors blessed with A Dozen Roses of poetry confessed.
Line Gauthier's 10 Poems that define me
4/30/20
It looks like all of the elderly couples have been in love with each other since they were
real-life teenagers, even before the ones who were born in the 1980s existed, even me.
This type of teenage love has been around all of the elderly men and women who were young
since the 1950s, the 1960s and the 1970s. It seems to everyone that no matter how old
these two lovebirds get, they still have plenty of love for each other. Back in the day,
before the cell phone was invented, MTV made its cable debut, and before the Internet,
there was a lot of things all teenage love birds have done back in the 1950s to the 1970s:
they went to a drive-in movie to see one of their favorite films, they had gone to the
diner to eat hamburgers and fries, there were school dances, that kinda stuff. And before
the high definition television sets were introduced, all teen guys took their teen
girlfriends to see the full moon back in the 1950s and the 1960s, including 1955 and 1964.
That's a date they'll never forget. Teenagers back in the 1950s, the 1960s, and the 1970s
have had a great time, especially when they fell in love back in either middle school or
high school. This is the kind of stuff they should talk to their grandchildren about it,
especially how they met and how they really did fall in love. It also seems that it has
been years and years since all relationships have began to build between the then-two
young lovebirds (a teen boy-turned elderly man and a teen girl-turned elderly woman). How
interesting was that? Well, it looks like another generation of young love will take over
the lives of all young lovebirds of today and take over where their grandparents, who were
teenagers back in the time, have left off. And if this kind of young love keeps increasing
before the year 2025, there's no telling what great thing might happen next.