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.
phones used to be for phone calls
back in the day
my day
the fifties, sixties, seventies and eighties
Now phones include word games
video games, emails, reference books
text messages, voice mail, websites
Terms we did not know yet back in the day
My day
In 1964 I would have never believed that I would someday
use a phone like George on the Jetson’s cartoon show
I thought that Zoom was laughable, a comical impossibility.
I could not have envisioned future I-phones back in the day.
Remember twisting the spiral cord attached to the wall, so you could sit on
the floor around the corner from your parents and
use their communal phone? I sure do!
A garden sun chases our ginger cat.
Dad watches World War Two
up close on the TV
he grinds his teeth,
a general forced to take a back seat.
Mother in the kitchen,
not her natural territory.
She opens cupboards exploring contents.
It is a blue and white kitchen
made of trees that died in 1964.
She shakes a martini like a
blind cardsharp. Her wrists
heron bones
that click a gold-toothed chain.
Flashes of recollection
follow me up beige carpeted stairs.
Small bathroom-toilet to the right,
where once I saw mum naked.
Oedipus lives down the hall
as a young teenager.
From my window
I see the long narrow garden
with its back gate.
Passion-flower crosses
entwining pine boards.
When the Nazi Storm Troopers come
I will fire down at them
lobbing hissing grenades
that land like angry cats
onto their fleeing backs.
Charley company lives in Vietnam
they shoot from the hip.
I am not sure which side
of this on-going war they are on.
In my British school atlas
America is colored, blue or yellow,
not Empire red like us.
A patriotic gas stirs vague imaginings.
A knock on my bedroom door.
I can hear myself breathing heavily,
as I jerk off. Keep out!
Mum pauses to catch her breath.
She is out of uniform,
and speaking in Slo Mo
to a camera in my head.
June 6, 1944, known as D-Day, allied troops landed on the beaches, an
unpleasant day that started in the early morning hours in
Normandy, France, and turned the tides of World War II. The
effect was the beginning and the liberation of Western Europe and
tanglement from Nazi control.
Exhausted they'd given their lives and we remember them.
Each soldier has their own story of the chaos;
none are the same as they were moved by impulse of the moment.
Their heroism and bravery displayed by troops
has served as inspiration to all our Allied countries.
7/14/2018
Poetry Contest: Juneteenth
Sponsored By: Edward Ibeh
John Lee Richmond pitches baseball first perfect game on June 12, 1880.
United Colonies changed their name to the United States on June 7, 1775.
Navy Captain James Lawrence said, “Don’t give up the ship!”, on June 1, 1813.
Electricity is discovered by Benjamin Franklin and his kite on June 10, 1752.
The Treaty of Versailles was signed to end WWI on June 28, 1919.
England crowned Henry VII King on June 24, 1509.
Emst Enno, Estonian poet and author born on June 8, 1875.
New York held the first fly-casting tournament on June 18, 1861.
Tour of the U.S. by the Rolling Stones started on June 2, 1964.
“Happy Birthday to you”, was first sung on June 27, 1859.
Await the zenith of the sun,
cross clay courtyard a beckoning
barefoot walked, heartstring undone,
Oh Lord, there’s love, no reckoning.
Soundless clarion of tears fall
toward absolution’s bright blessing,
within the domed sabil I call...
Oh Lord, there’s love, no reckoning.
The fountain's dry, but not my eyes
sounds of grace rebound, amazing,
Amazing Grace, sang such as I
Oh Lord, there’s love, no reckoning.
We are but one beneath the sun
for all our fears and wandering
all creation our companion...
Oh Lord, there’s love, no reckoning.
Let spirit rise on minaret
and phantom penitents come hieing
all is well, we are God’s get
Oh Lord, there’s love, no reckoning.
Peace is not a relationship of nations. It is a condition of mind brought about by a serenity of soul. Peace is not merely the absence of war. It is also a state of mind. Lasting peace can come only to peaceful people.
Jawaharlal Nehru (1889 - 1964)
The shine of autumn sun,
the blink of glowing star,
the moon, a lonely one,
shed tears that travel far.
Loneliness tells a sad story
of love that fumbles in the dark.
Love meant for God's greater glory
but cannot equal that of a simple lark.
The shine of autumn sun
shed leaves and naked make
the trees that birds will shun,
the warmth that winter takes.
The love in depths of tenderness
hides no suffering from the loving one,
for nothing is better than God's warm caress
at the shine of autumn sun.
The wind and air, so brisk and cold,
a winter tale that trees don't tell,
the wanting cry of fear that told
of children, who from the Master fell.
A haunting sound of dying grass
and skeleton gone of age old trees
whisper pains that never last
but will someday show his majesty.
The roving sky of white on blue
with the sun in all its yellow bright
call out to lonely you
gone is the terrors of the night.
The shine of winter moon,
the ground of icy treasures won
call out in an envious tune
I've killed the autumn sun.
The autumn sun no longer shines
it disappears through winter storms
that close the gate to forgotten time
and covered the path of loneliness worn.
The winter moon encloses fear
and fights to rule the sun.
It hopes to shed no human tears
and now, it's finally won -
Winter moon has killed
the autumn sun.
Written back in 1964
when I was a mere child and first began to write poetry.
Today we traveled from Bayfield, Wisconsin to Bark River, Michigan
We are staying at a beautiful cabin by the lake….
The 200 mile drive went smoothly…except for one slight navigational mistake.
We planned to stop at this 52 foot. statue of Hiawatha
In Iron River…where…since 1964 he has stood.
In my defense…not knowing Michigan
it’s easy to mix up Iron River…with the similar sounding Ironwood.
So…when we reached Iron River and Deborah read about the statue
I was half right …Hiawatha is his name
but he stands in the town of Ironwood…100 miles back the way we came.
So much for Hiawatha…and my map reading expertise…
but we forgot all about him when we reached our cabin…
nestled among white cedar trees.
We learned from Walt, the owner of our cabin,
as we felt a cool Lake Michigan breeze…
how, to the Native Americans, white cedars are considered sacred trees.
In his front yard we listened…surrounded by a wide array of flowers
while Walt told us how they believe the white cedars are imbued with healing powers.
How passed down from their ancestors…were legends such as these…
that there are protective spirits hidden in these trees.
He encouraged us to hug these trees… so we could feel their power too
which of course the two of us were more than willing and happy to do.
The white cedars are also called the tree of life…
because…lasting through the summer heat and the winter cold….
some white cedars standing today…are well over 1000 years old.
If we had to miss a 52 foot Hiawatha…by taking the wrong route
landing in thicket of 50 foot tall white cedar was a wonderful substitute
Stories such as these…like the one you have just heard…
prove once again how life is…and always will be…such a beautiful word.
A concrete loveless thinker,
She only believes in what she sees or touches
Her faithlessness limits her
She cannot fathom anything outside of her box
As if she lives in the confines of a 1964 black and white TV
I have tried, but her mind does not wish to expand
Anything she cannot see, touch, or has no knowledge of cannot exist
I wonder if spirit follows her around shouting all day,
While she fills her life up with crossword puzzles
Resolved to not listen or believe.
I cannot fathom a world without science fiction, UFO’s, and the paranormal
I love to be hypnotized, believing in reincarnation and ESP.
My muse throws magnificent ideas across my dendrite highways daily
I chuck them up and toss them around, juggling as many as possible
Imagination is my go-to-place. I live there.
Expanding my mind in a way she cannot imagine.
I am sure she would be horrified if she knew.
Shifting Sands
Chagrined but involved,
Demographics today present
The Silent Generation and Baby Boomers,
Gen Xers, Xennials and Millennials,
And Generation Z in the digital era agape,
Staring in bewilderment
And grappling with the reality imposed:
That the crème de la crème
Of the millions of US citizens
In the party of Jefferson, Jackson, and Roosevelt
Tout a socialist clown and a gaffing buffoon
(Who are both very white, very old, and very stupid)
As presidential candidates
To lead the charge to victory come November.
Surely, there is better fruit in the land
Rooted in the shifting sands.
***
Note:
Joe Biden and Bernie Sanders were two of the leading figures in the 2020 Democratic presidential primaries.
The Silent Generation: 1925–1945.
Baby Boomers: 1946–1964.
Gen X: 1965–1979.
Xennials: 1975–1985.
Millennials: 1980–1994.
Gen Z: 1995–2012.
Thomas Jefferson (1743–1826): 3rd president of the U.S.A. (1801 to 1809).
Andrew Jackson (1767–1845): 7th president of the U.S.A. (1829 to 1837).
Franklin D. Roosevelt (1882–1945): 32nd president of the U.S.A. (1933 to 1945).
Oh what a predicament as we sped through the night,
A whole train stretched behind us without a single light,
And through the thin walls we could plainly hear
The threats being shouted from both front and rear.
The long blonde squaddie, whose name I can’t recall
Nervously panicked because he’d caused it all.
An urgent call of nature on a compartmented train
Solved by opening a window to pass water in the rain;
But he removed a fitted bulb, modesty being his plan
And fused the whole lot behind with a very loud bang
Leading to this very tense and worrying situation
As the train drew ever nearer to Victoria Station.
One hell of a fizzer for damaging a train,
Maybe another for peeing in the rain,
The trouble only worsening after release
From the railway to the military police.
And maybe, on top, some demotion
For having caused such commotion.
When it arrived thank the lord much confusion arose
As we hit the platform running and away on our toes
As from behind we heard a very loudly voice say
That’s where they went as he pointed the wrong way;
So we mingled with the crowd having slowed to a walk
And joining in freely with all the discontented talk.
The gods must have smiled on us to allow us to go
To celebrate in Trafalgar Square and later on in Soho.
We all joined hands there in the crowded square
To sing Auld Lang Syne with those gathered there.
A night to remember, New Years Eve 1964
All much too old now for such excitement any more.
Potpourri, What Me Worry?
Have a Minute? In a Hurry?
Reflect, Few Knew 3rd Sept. 1964'ie,
Our World Unfurled, "Let There Be Nori!"
More Precisely, "Eleanor Anne",
7 of 7, Infinite "Can", Wonder Woman,
And Golly, The Mile Champion, She Ran!
By No Means Dumb, Nori Was the Sum,
Harry & Eleanor Enabled Dr. Schol's Alum,
Beat Drums! Blow Trumpets! 'Til Lips Numb!
Inherited Curls Red We All Adore,
Her Generosity & Humility Galore,
Spreading Joy In Each of Fifty-Four!
Nori Has a Secret, A Hydrogen Bomb,
A West Virginia Gentle Farm Boy, Some
Say is Her Loam, Vita-Mix, Topsoil Tom!
Husky, Kona, Loved but Exceedingly Furry,
North Conway is Where Tom & Nori,
Build Their Oasis Refuge From Hurry!
Nori, Count Your Life by Smiles Not Miles,
By Friends, Not Stipends, Not "Upends",
May You & Tom Together Enjoy Years,
Empty of Tears, Bills in Arrears & Fears!