Long 1968 Poems
Long 1968 Poems. Below are the most popular long 1968 by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long 1968 poems by poem length and keyword.
I remember in 1968 when the President decided not to seek reelection. There was much weariness from a winless war and a nation of protesters.
He had helped to heal a nation but left office beaten, broken, and defeated.
I remember another President who never considered not running again.
In spite of victories in the Middle East, the economy was in dire straights. He ran again for president and fought gallantly, but he lost as a gentleman.
I have seen losers, angry, sore, bitter, and filled with complaints and excuses. Mr. Bush, one of the last great American patriots, seemed to be at peace with America. I suspect he was pleased with and at peace with his family and with God at the end. I say this because I took keen note this morning as I was listening to the early portion of the memorial service. The reporters indicated that he as do all presidents decided important matters of the service. It might not mean as much to others as it did to me, but I was very cognizant that the prayers were prayed to God and closed in the name of "Christ". In our present culture, when there is every attempt to rid America of the Christ Child, I was happy.
I remember how he made me feel in 1990 during that crisis in Kuwait; and tonight, I'm saying 'goodbye' to President Bush and 'thanks' for serving America proudly in life and for honoring Christ in death.
12052018PoSoup
the celebrated sailing frog
from Montgomery County
went a court'n, or so the tale iz toad
to a grand ole mansion built around 1910,
and e'en 'pon
being razed ~2012 ah no dummy
sea worthiness still plainly showed,
twas February 28th, 1968,
when my father
bought the house at 324 Level Road
majority deuce score plus nineteen years,
rush back with unfettered exuberant zeal
this aging elf spent psalm tranquil
May days sung sotto voce
atop memorialized, prized,
shingled out, ship-shape valued,
venerated, vip voted faux vulgar demesne
"Glen Elm" named private
100+ acre wooded common weal
many a pitch perfect spring day
found yours truly
frankly basking atop spacious roof
oft times begging the cosmic force
irrationally lyft ting this Earthlinked bing,
this uber dreamer
willingly taken with "poof"
(magic amazing dragons)
presuming my absence,
would not be missed and whereabouts
no cause for alarm,
but usual antics of contemplative goof
ball, and aware
a minor for hair (Sunkist) gold
Helios innocently beckoned,
this then sole Sol tanned
within the solar raised fold
surrendering while atop
the multi acred roof where any cold
melted away, whence became bathed
like a bronze statue of auld.
zip pose zing the weather forecast
donned wafted air
fragrant with flowered flora
visibility for miles
if ether crystal clear,
this high da way countless yards
off the ground presented flare
approximating pristine floral display
with powerfully poignant immunity
against cackling, jeering, scowling,
"Oftentimes, sometimes I think of you. I drive by the street where you used to live. I don't know now if you're alive or not. Blessings to you I give. I don't know if you're married or a widow. All I know is just this ^I Loved You Gala^, but I never did tell you Oh! I loved your meekness, your sweetness...
Happen upon we were in the same school in junior high. My heart asked me why you didn't say anything bout how I feel. Gala you had such loving eyes and you wore glasses your hair was auburn skin as bronze you were, so friendly often times so endearing.
And yes I should have said something but alas I was afraid to. To say something. Your name is Gala my first crush. Gala Steward wish you knew that I like you. Was in Junior High in 1968. You kind of look like my mother with those pretty eyes girl, you're so great. Your name is Gala I should have persuaded my mind cuz. My heartwas already there. I walked you home from school one day. It was such a lovely way.
The name is Gala, Gala Stewart I hope all is well in your life and that you've very affluent for I was to shy to say. That I love you to embarrass to say. Anything, I was foolish a dope, didn't listen to my heart. Well who knows maybe if I now pray. Best wishes to see you again one day. Whether you're married or not hope God blessing at first thought.
Gala you were my first love but I never told ya!"
~This is a verse bout my first crush in middle school Horace Mann Junior High School...~
[ dedicated to Gala Stewart Wherever You Are]
4/20/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
MARIETTE TURNER RICCARDO FROM OLD PHOTOGRAPHS FROM MY GRANDFATHERS COLLECTION OF SHOW GIRLS FROM HIS 1968 VEGAS MAZAGINE CHRISTMAS EDITIONS HOWEVER MARIETTA WAS MUCH MORE THAN THAT A JEWISH WOMAN WHOSE HUSBAND WAS CAPTURED DURINGWW11 MY GRANDFATHER TOLD ME SHE WOULD COME TO THE CAMP WEARING ONLY A FUR COAT MY POP WOULD HELP HER VISIT HER HUSBAND WHO WAS CAPTURED BY HITLER'S MEN AT ANYRATE AS I MOVED BACK NORTH STOPPING IN MARIETTA GEORGIA CROWN MOTEL SUFFERING TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY AFTER WITNESSING A MURDER AND FOR HURRICANES I CREATED MARIETTA KEATING A CHARACTER OF SORTS I WAS QUITE DESPERATE TRYING TO KEEP CIRO GARGANO AND HIS CRONIES FROM EXTORTING MY POETRY HE LATCHED ON TO MY POETRY ACTUALLY TRIED TO PAY JOHN GOTTI JR MAFIA DEBT. BY EXTORTING MY LIFE TO FEED TO THE GAMBINO CRIME FAMILY TO SETTLE HIS SCORES OVER THE PROPERTY ON SHERIDAN ROAD HIS TAILOR SHOP IDEA THAT FLEW OUT THE WINDOW WHEN HE TORCHED THE BUILDINGS TRIED TO WRITE AND HIDE FROM A MAD BOMBER USED CAR SALESMAN MILWAUKEE CRIME BOSS ARSONIST WHO LITERALLY BLEW MY BRAINS OUT GARGANO WAS ACTUALLY EXTORTING MY POETRY RACKETEERING MY POETRY TO SETTLE SCORES WITH GOTTI SO I REMEMBERED JOHNNY DEPP SECRET WINDOW HE ALSO WROTE IN A PENN NAME THIS ALLOWED ME TO WRITE WITHOUT THE STRESS OF GARGANO RIPPING MY TITLES HACKING INTO THE POETRY SIGHT AND WELL MARIETTA KEATING WAS BORN SO WAS HOLIDAY BILLIE CPL KING MARIETTA RICCARDO MERLOT YES AFTER A GLASS OF MERLOT I BELIEVED THIS ALLOWED ME A SAFE SPACE TO WRITE IN COMPLETE PRIVACY IT IS TRULY HARD BEING A WRITER PRIVACY IS EVERYTHING THANK YOU MARIETTA KEATING WE MADE LOVELY MUSIC TOGETHER MARIETTA KEATING MY ANCESTORS CARRIE KEATON ISOM KEETON MY GREAT GRANDMOTHER A ROYAL QUEEN CARRIE KEETON CONCIEVED MY NONA WITH WILLIAM MASON ITALIAN MASONARY BEING A WRITING TAKES PATIENCE YOU HAVE TO HAVE SIUTER NYMES TO PREVENT FATAL STALKERS FROM EXTORTING YOUR WORK I LOVE WRITING TRIBUTES TO MY ANCESTORS ALL APART OF MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY I APPLAUD ANTHONY PUZO MARIO PUZO MARIO CLERI IT'S HOW HE CREATED THE LAST DON
GOD BLESS ALL WRITERS
PRIVACY IS SO CRUCIAL IT IS TRULY
A BLESSING TO SHARE MY GIFT OF WRITING
WITH THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD
GOD BLESS AMERICA
Jane began playing table tennis in the year 2000,
And shortly after that she participated in a course,
Held at her work which started with goal-setting,
So right there she decided on the Paralympics.
The course leader opened them up and inspired,
With “If you can conceive it, you can achieve it” -
Words which changed Jane’s life, aims and efforts,
To achieving this fine goal of Paralympic success.
Jane was selected for the team ParalympicsGB,
In 2002 and won team bronze in ‘07, ’09 and ’10,
At the European Championships and the Worlds,
So in 2013 at Bayreuth Jane won the team gold.
At the Lignano Master Open held in Italy 2016,
Jane and the team finished second to win silver,
She broke her back in a car accident aged 15,
She trains in London, born on 18th August 1968.
By early 1971; or was it late 1970 that I had fallen in love for the very last TIME? From the summer of 1968 until then, many short romances quickly
dried on the VINE. No, it wasn't because anyone stepped out of LINE, but rather, it just wasn't time for the seed of love to germinate and rise from the soil. Yes, some of them came and were very pleasing for a little WHILE, and I must CONFESS that some of them, at the end of the QUEST, ended with questions at the end of the TRIAL. Questions of the type to which there were no ANSWERS for such ROMANCERS, and from which one had to move on.
So, to the young and the pure, yet UNTESTED; To the beginner with love not yet INVESTED; To the brave though RESTLESS ones, too innocent to UNDERSTAND that just ahead lies a romance filled with QUICKSAND. It is to such that I advise and make this one sincere and loving request to wait and not hurry LOVE*. Let love define itself, find its own way, and lite upon you gently, like a loving DOVE.
022421PS *Song of Solomon 8:4
Sickening sweet smell of marijuana
A young guy with a super grin playing bongos
I had never seen that in real life, just on Dobie Gillis.
Come on up! My free-minded cousin said.
There were beds, but they were occupied.
I did not know people sleep during the day.
Being from the Midwest, this was all new
Are these your roommates? I asked her.
Just people, she told me.
I changed into my swimming suit,
Because I was in San Francisco,
And I thought there would be a beach
Someone started a sing-along in the living room.
I was intrigued; this was freedom I had never seen.
We’ll swim tomorrow, my cousin promised.
We never got to the beach
But I saw S Street
And I met real hippies
I found out my zodiac sign
And I learned I have gold in my eyes.
Someone called me an old soul.
It was 1968 I was sixteen.
And it was enough.
A turning point with
advantage of 20/20 hindsight
identifies severe dislocation
birthing emotional plight
intervening years since psyche wrenched
by rather innocuous event at first sight
exaggerated haunting shadows
sparred illuminated by dim backlight,
now conviction hammered home startdate
coffin unwittingly nailed airtight
death of spontaneous bright
eyed bushy tailed
spunkiness extinguished
gored me lifeless,
asper bloodless bullfight
all entrails left intact,
and no obvious insight
fledgling, negligible, tentative...
flickering soon snuffed out light
describing nascent ability to delight
no longer extant within my
then young featherlight
undersized physical height
complemented with familiarity of shyness,
no recall red flagged
a lad in capable to smite
an unmanageable all consuming debacle
in retrospect unable
to coax forthright
severe retrogression, retribution, retraction...
unleashed nefarious sprite
occasioned when father and mother
aloft in their prime topflight
ages buying dreamhouse did excite
unaware psychological convulsions
would forever roil sole son
darkened to midnight
impetus to live defeated
with abandoned might
nonverbal communication,
would soon reveal, how expert playwright
stymied to comprehend
tote toll impact, and mortality craved,
nee stole perky me overnight
linkedin to poorly acclimating
moving away from familiar digs right
into the waiting maws of shipwreck
forever stranded, where no searchlight
rescued malicious conjurer's wicked sleight
of hand prestidigitation rocketing me
into infinitely far orbital spaceflight
an untethered ball of skintight
grateful dead lovely bones.
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 premature son, Patrick,
I will give her his four pound birth weight.
To prove 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, and that 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 that 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 Catskill Mountain,
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,
marvel at the hip-hugger bell-bottoms, and dear
black and white dairy cows, staying clear
of the braless 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.
pioneer esprit de corps front tier brisk.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Open arms and clenched raised fists raise
masquerade diametrically opposed to rodomontade sways
spewing threatening sacred constitution
expounding vaunted values déclassé 1968 degreed phase
Wharton alumni now on warpath to raze
via his bull dozing wreaks havoc on coven daze
ruining complex edifice
usurped storied super power craze
thru humiliation, liquidation of dredging bays
* * * * * * * * * * * *
and justification (viewed thru his warped vision)
scotching inalienable rights reducing to rubble bedrock division
with remainder of flinty stones,
and unlovely bones a wasteland fission
absent without a trace any evidence of Halcyon days,
which abomination, decimation, and gangrenous lesion
joie de vivre, when martial law decree deep incision
heil come rolled up (frightfully with egregious decision.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
the venomous, tenebrous, and rancorous white house
Head honcho viz prez) inside checkered hookahs lighting
one end per slow burn as hoary smoke emanates
in shape of Taj Mahal, then harmless as Mickey mouse
he iz well singed, seared, and scalded like a cook grouse
(yet of course still alive) sent to further douse
him into initiation righting tis basic human coup laid louse.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Acid test whereby he will be sold to Vladimir Putin for bunk
her hilled feather bedding rubles on the dollar, where clunk
key interim held up by cadre of well comb pence dunk
key Kong sated marionettes, which will carry fleshy lunk
dirty deeds done dirt cheap of this unmentionable monk
key villainous uber trumpeter, scabrous, recalcitrant querulous punk!
* * * * * * * * * * * *
keep your finger and toes crossed for the next four years
aware that such laughable ruse and superstitious scares
not one impish bot of fate, but more so gives false cheers.
Form: