Long 1967 Poems
Long 1967 Poems. Below are the most popular long 1967 by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long 1967 poems by poem length and keyword.
Ten adventurers went caving in Yorkshire Dales, England in 1967.
It was a gorgeous June day, so they were in terrific spirits.
Four of them decided not to continue a few hours later, unsure why.
The remaining six were all young healthy men.
Morag Forbes, who had discontinued the adventure, returned to the site.
Mossdale Caverns was underwater so she knew the six were in trouble.
Shocked for her friends, she ran to get help.
Many volunteers began digging a ditch, to circumvent water.
The six inside had been climbing and crawling through the cavern,
When a rush of water came in through all directions due to flooding.
They were caught by surprise in the labyrinth.
Sadly, they were buried inside the cave.
I once thought
we would leave Brooklyn
and travel across America
in a chariot.
An awesome, red,
'67 Lincoln convertible,
with suicide doors.
Radio blasting Jefferson Airplane.
Hair blowing in the wind.
Soaking up the sunshine.
Breathing freedom.
No watches, jobs or boss.
Stopping at Howard Johnson's.
Eating all 28 ice cream flavors,
one stop at a time and
fried clams by the bushel.
We were San Francisco dreaming.
'67 brought
responsibility, stability,
Timex watch,
Volkswagen,
subways, overtime,
a baby, diapers,
larger Brooklyn apartment
and reality
but...
1967
was a very
good year.
a baby, diapers,larger Brooklyn apartmentand realitybut... 1967 was a verygood year.
Father gave his son the talk before he attended prom.
He gave him a severe lecture actually, many warnings.
About how people get carried away, and they get pregnant.
The boy was horrified, he had not even kissed his girl.
This was 1967, of course, when morals were alive and well.
Father said “and one last thing, son….you have to take up smoking.”
The son was curious as to why. The father had no reason, but was adamant.
Mother questioned father after the son left for prom.
“We want him to be a manly man, right?” the father stated.
He pulled out the Marlboro cigarette ad and added
“And a cowboy, if possible.” This was the way of the sixties too.
Nobody wanted to be the Indians back then.
Except me. I always rooted for them, to no avail.
There’s no victor and no vanquish,
The so-called rising sun of Biafra has been set forever,
It would be a disservice for anyone to refer to any eastern state of Nigeria as Biafra,
The tragic chapter of violence has just ended,
We’re at the dawn of national reconciliation,
Once again we have an opportunity to build a new nation.
My dear compatriots,
We must pay homage to the fallen,
To the heroes who have made the mammoth sacrifice,
That we may able to build a nation great in justice, fair trade and industry.
I imposed a blockade as a deliberate policy,
This was necessary during the ensuing stalemate,
Though it led to the mass starvation of Biafran civilians,
It aimed to compel the secessionist group to surrender,
And stop bullets from rewriting our history.
My government may seek the friendly assistance of foreign governments and bodies
especially in the provision of equipment to supplement our national efforts,
They’re however several foreign governments and organizations
whose so-called assistance will not be welcomed,
These are the governments and organizations which sustained the rebellion,
They’re thus guilty of the blood of thousands
who perished because of the proliferation of the rebellious resistance,
They did not act out of love for humanity,
Their purpose was to disintegrate Nigeria and Africa and impose their will.
Time/event: The Nigerian Civil War, 6 July 1967 - 15 January 1970 / in the voice of General Yakubu Gowon.
February 10, 2025.
PLACED 3RD : Standard Contest
[Poet’s Note : This is a Signature Poem on this Inventory. I loved the song, melody and lyrics, which inspired poem, since I first heard it as a young child. The single was a gift from my Dad, who was a boatswain-rigger, bought at a London flea market. He brought gifts home from different ports, after each sea trip.
I once used the song to design & create a wedding gown, despite its melancholy tone. The creation received rave reviews from a Regional Fashion Show for which it was designed.
The song itself has layers of meaning & different interpretations, which makes it a powerful source of inspiration. I trust this poem reflects that, with its highlight that species other than humanoid (aka merpeople) do exist, with consciousness.]
Shadows mingled with the Light
becoming a ghostly frightening sight
as pictures fell from cabin walls
every ship occupant wanted to ball
Storm clouds becoming whiter than pale
miller said it was winter becoming spring
eyes of sixteen sanguine vestal virgins
ignited Chief Mates’ fires to oceanic sing
Swimming by rocks jutting from the sea
flakes of her pale complexion floating free
with winter waters waltzing whales mingle
I became kind of sea sick drinking beer single
Emerging from frothy wave onto ship dripping
mermaid tail flipping with long locks slipping
they scorned her, warned her, tossing sardines
her wish but to sing along, siren from the sea
Hearts and stomachs expanded with violins
coffee hot in mugs with deckhands wanting
fandango, passengers asked for Sebast. Bach
Captain ordered more kipper, cocoa with brandy
Her eyes blacker than coal, whole was her whiter
shade than pale as Captain drank her sea ale regaling, drank of her ale sailing, drank of her ale, paling, a Whiter Shade of Pale, spawning
[Inspired by Song : Whiter Shade of Pale /
Hagar Schon Aaronson Shrieve (Procol Harum),1967
Number 261* ran a pretty good race.
Though she couldn’t have won it, she set a fine pace.
Her hat hid her hair but if you’d seen her face
You’d have realized she wasn’t a guy.
The year – ’67, a marathon run
In Boston, and soon after it’d begun
Officials decided her racing was done
And her gender the answer to “Why?”
For the course was for men; anyone called “her”
Had to skip it or hide who they really were.
K.V. Switzer she signed as, so they’d infer
That a male was the one to apply.
She resisted attempts to drag her away
And completed those miles, ignoring the fray.
Yet it took 5 more years, quite a lengthy delay,
‘Til the rule-makers had to comply.
Now at 70, Switzer, still true to form,
Ran in Boston, to welcomes both loud and warm.
Her gutsiness once took the world by storm
And her triumph no one can deny.
*Kathrine Switzer’s Boston Marathon number
in both the 1967 and 2017 races
Anne Dickins
Anne was an endurance cyclist,
But in 2011 she ruptured her back,
Which meant that she did enlist,
Cauda equine syndrome, her yack.
A physiotherapist cool by profession,
And a Games Maker in London 2012,
Anne was offered good instruction,
In canoeing by Colin Radmore, wealth.
Although she suffered seasickness,
Anne took motion sickness lessons,
Normally for fighter pilots skill, duress,
Which meant she overcame sessions.
In 2014 at the ICF Worlds in Moscow,
She won the gold for the 200 metres,
And in 2015, Milan, a silver did follow,
Then 2016 at the Worlds, gold litres.
She was born on the 20th February,
In 1967, so she has much experience;
She won the gold in Rio’s hot country,
In the KL3 class of her convergence.
If I said "you had a beautiful body" don't hide,
I never lied though I may have tried
please "would you hold it against me,"
I coulda been your "Love Machine"
and you, my "Disco Lady."
"I love you more than I can say"
"Everything is beautiful" in those younger days.
It's the "age of aquarius", and I'm "On top of the world"
a dream child of the seventies on a "Midnight train to Georgia"
with "Time in a bottle" ready and willing to "Rock the boat".
Missed the Woodstock extravaganza free love lurch
but I was off on an expeditionary search
of myself and peace and love not "War" unhurt,
so "Rock me gently" and "I'll write the songs"
'cause "you ain't seen nothing yet."
If I sing the songs and "If you could read my mind"
they'd be heard again to vibrate in my heart
after all, I'm was just a "Gypsy, Tramp and Thief"..
A ghost of the past with my counterparts;
still hanging on in "troubled Waters"
best now to pack it all away and "Let it be"
all those memories "I can see clearly now"
the 1970s are "Killing me softly" .
Note: I know Age of Aquarius was 1967, so now you know, I'm a child of the 60s but woke up in the 70s.
(In 1964, Paul McCartney was staying at
57, Wimpole Street, the home of Jane Asher.
McCartney was allowed to use the basement
for writing (Margaret Asher, mother of Jane,
was a professor of music, and the room was
set up for rehearsal). He announced his
engagement to Jane on Christmas Day 1967,
but by then he had already been seeing Linda
Eastman for nine months. When Jane left for a
vacation in the summer of 1968, Paul invited
yet another woman to move into his home.
When Asher returned unexpectedly and found
McCartney and the woman in bed, the relationship
came to an abrupt end. Perhaps McCartney did it
to extricate himself from the Asher engagement.)
Yesterday
When I was younger,
so much younger than today,
I once had a girl
(it was the year before Shea).
She showed me her room:
“Isn’t it good?
Norwegian wood.”
She asked me to stay
and said I could sit anywhere,
so I went to the basement –
the piano was down there.
“I’ll tell you something
I think you’ll understand,”
said my best friend John:
“You’re gonna lose that girl.
It won’t be long.”
I’ve lost her now for sure.
I won’t see her no more.
But I couldn’t use a Sloane,
so why on earth should I moan?
I crawled off to sleep in the bath.
I went into a dream
of people and things
that went before …
I think I overstayed,
but that was yesterday.
I’ll buy you a diamond ring, my friend,
If it makes you feel alright
But I can’t help but think, my friend,
it’s been a hard day’s night.
The girl that’s driving me mad
is going away:
I’ll get my claws on Clancy
without the least delay.
You call it treason
when you come poking about,
but I’ve got a good reason
for taking the easy way out.
Strappy white sandals with heavy heels
Clicking on the hood of his
1959 Pink Cadillac with the pink tailfins
Tappy Tappy Tap Tap Tap
If you think I am cute, your eyes can clap
Clickety Clickety Clickety Click. I am darling. My smile so thick.
He is sixteen, totally enthralled,
Ignoring the fact that his pride and joy car
will never be the same
It is our first date
I still have this pair of strappy clickety clack sandals
The ones I used to dance in the moonlight showing my cuteness
The ones that made his sixteen-year-old heart go pitter pat
I still have him too, and this was 1967 so….
What do you think of that?
Written May 18, 2019
Poetry Contest: Night Shoes
Sponsor: Anthony Slausin