Long 1969 Poems
Long 1969 Poems. Below are the most popular long 1969 by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long 1969 poems by poem length and keyword.
Looking Back
(November 21, 1969 – January 18, 2022)
By Franklin Price
02/09/2022
Looking back through lives we shared
Through love and lust our souls were bared
A caring life with my best friend
Though you are gone, it will not end
When first we met, the times were tough
Both were mistreated, had enough
Not searching for another mate
But God thought better of our fate
Conditions right, could not ignore
A life together to explore
He opened up our eyes to see
Love was about the you and me
It all began in sixty-nine
In life's soft sand, we drew the line
Stepped across, and said I do
To future years, I'd spend with you
We said the vows of rich and poor
Of sickness, health and so much more
Until life's end we shared it all
The Winters, Summers, Springs and Falls
God took you first, left me behind
You are still here within my mind
I'll feel again, your loving touch
Thank you, dear God, so very much
“What Does It Take to Win Your Love for Me?”
A golden oldie’s lyrics—soulful, sad—
blend with my thoughts on love I thought we had,
but I saw only what I wished to see.
(Jr. Walker and the All Stars, 1969)
The brokenhearted~~what becomes of them?
They’ve lost their happiness and peace of mind.
They trudge through each day, praying they will find
true love. Till then their outlook will be dim.
(“What Becomes of the Brokenhearted,” Jimmy Ruffin, 1966)
To “Everybody Plays the Fool Some Time,”
I think of how good-byes can be quite cruel.
A special skill not taught at any school
is how to find a love sure and sublime.
(by the Main Ingredient, 1972)
“Love Hurts”~~words aptly chosen and so strong.
When romance fails, hearts break and hot tears flow
like nonstop rain. Recovery is slow.
The lyrics resonate on nights so long.
(“Love Hurts,” Everly Brothers, 1960; Nazareth, 1975)
“It’s Gonna Take Some Time” I’m hearing now.
Perhaps, when I’ve recovered from this pain,
I’ll find my search for love was not in vain.
Then loneliness will take its final bow.
(by the Carpenters, 1972)
The Grass Roots’ lyrics in a sixties song
say “love is gonna get” me. I’ll just wait
and see. Perhaps confessions of a date
with romance might be real before too long!
(“Sooner or Later,” 1971; “Midnight Confessions,” 1968)
On a summer night in Greenwich Village,
when neon trembled against wet pavement
and fear wore the uniform of the law,
a spark leapt from the shadows.
It was June 28, 1969.
The night the people who had been told
to lower their voices,
hide their hands,
change their walk,
bury their hearts,
finally said:
No.
At the doors of Stonewall Inn,
the pursuit of happiness ceased being a promise on paper
and became a demand carried by living, breathing souls.
Drag queens.
Runaways.
Dreamers.
Workers.
Artists.
Lovers.
People whose names history almost erased,
yet whose courage became a torch.
The world would later learn the names of heroes like
Marsha P. Johnson
and Sylvia Rivera,
but that night belonged to thousands,
each carrying a universe inside them,
each deserving the simple freedom
to exist.
To love.
To dance.
To breathe.
The journey was never straight.
It wound through funerals and protests,
through silence and song,
through years when hate marched openly
and hope marched anyway.
Yet every generation carried the banner forward,
stitching new colors into an unfinished quilt
of human dignity.
And as fate would have it,
the uprising began on the birthday of
Judy Garland,
whose voice had long offered refuge
to those searching for a place
somewhere over the rainbow.
Perhaps that is coincidence.
Perhaps it is poetry.
Today the rainbow flies in cities and small towns,
in courtrooms and classrooms,
in places where it once would have been dangerous
to whisper its name.
Not because the struggle is finished,
but because courage is contagious.
The pursuit of happiness
was never about chasing wealth,
or fame,
or applause.
It was always about the right
to wake each morning
unafraid of being yourself.
To hold a hand.
To speak your truth.
To live openly beneath the same sky
that belongs to everyone.
And so the voices continue.
Different accents.
Different stories.
Different songs.
Yet together they form a chorus
so powerful
that even history must stop and listen.
A chorus born in resistance,
carried by love,
and still marching
toward freedom.
If I could press a button—just one,
A brass lever humming in a midnight room—
And shudder back through history’s run,
I’d pause before the urge to bloom.
Would I fix the world?
Avert a war, mend a broken vow,
Convince a poet not to end his song—
Or simply wish I’d learned the cello by now?
Perhaps I’d find the seven-year-old me,
Ears crimson with playground shame,
Letting the bullies’ words root deep—
I’d kneel and whisper, “Your name is not their game.”
Or would I stand on the moon’s dust,
1969—Neil Armstrong’s boot suspended—
And yell, “Try a somersault!” just for the laugh,
So history books would end, “and then he upended.”
Maybe I’d just nudge Newton’s apple,
Make it miss his head by an inch,
And watch him wonder, “Did I imagine that?”
While gravity waits at the bench.
But here’s the truth:
Every itch to change the past
Is really a wish for mercy, for someone—anyone—
To say, “You did okay. At last.”
So I’d use my power not for grand designs
Or rewriting the universe’s rhyme.
I’d find a lonely moment—mine or yours—
And simply show up,
On time.
Sad news today, February 6th in our year 2011
To "The Great Gig in the Sky" sell out in Heaven
My favourite blues rock guitarist, Mr Irish Gary Moore
Joins the "Midnight Blues, "Too Tired" no more will he tour
At fourteen years of age he received his first guitar
Like many budding rockers aspirations to be a rock star
The Beatles, Elvis Presley and the amazing Albert King
Heavily influenced this left hander, who made his right hand sing
As he grew past his teens, the genre he'd enter would mean
The likes of John Mayall's Bluesbreakers and Hendrix, now he's seen
Blues Rock it was to be, when Peter Green caught his ear
If you grew up with this maestro, you'll know his career
It started way back, way back in 1969
Skid Row, from Dublin he joined, as the music industry would find
This is where his association began, with Lynott, bassist extraordinaire
Many nights sharing the blues, this two Irishmen would share
His solo career just grew and grew, then into Thin Lizzy he would blend
Sharing the Black Rose stage with Phil his Irish friend
The blues became his life, with two Albert's who'd share his stage
Guesting with his 'Midnight Blues Band' many a jam they would engage
I now close my humble tribute, for he'll always be in my heart
On this day in Estepona, Spain, my hero in final depart
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/music-5.php
This is a story of a man I didn't know;
I just bore his last name so;
He was my fathers' father and he looked of African;
When I first saw my paternal grand father;
was the summer of 1969 ( I believe I was around 14 years old)
Never saw him until then;
His statue was of at lease 6 foot 7 seven inches
An old sticky-man
He was a grave digger (No for real)
In a town called Mounds Illinois
First time that I'd be there before
Told many of the towns people " I'm gonna bury ya all some day"
Had a shovel in his hands the first time I met him
(Yes! we were at a cemetery, that's another story to tell ya)
I was a teen then upon first meting him
My second cousin laughed and said give the boy some money
So he reached in his pocket and gave me a {quarter}
everyone laughed out loud, really?
I guess I should have kept it
that was 50 years ago in June
Never, ever saw him a second time nor ever again;
They said he lived on nothing..Had money in his mattress
Family members stress this
He was so old he was here before my second cousin was (both born of Mid-Wife's
My second cousin was maybe 98 to a 100 then
Neither one had birth-certificates?
So Grand Pa Lee had many marriages, you see
but guess what he was never married really
Those younger women and family members rumored said to have robbed him blind
Guess that's sorta
Perceived as out of order
To this day we yet laugh out loud grand was an original hoarder
Guess I should have kept that quarter
True story of a very old, very tall man.......you see
His name my paternal Grand Pa
Grand Pa
Ernest Lee
9/16/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Life is all about family and love.
July 20, 1969, this day in history
Astronaut Neil Armstrong walked on moon, 240,000 miles
From Earth, a billion people
Listening at home:
“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
This same day near midnight
A small town in Taiwan island, a baby
Was born. I was born!
This clinic nurse in the lobby
Told my grandmother: “It’s a girl.”
Disappointing granny then
Turned around and went on home: without hesitation.
Everyone wished I
Was a boy!
Life is all about family and love.
Introspective, peacemaker, stammering, am I so.
My order sister
Too, born as a special child. She
Blames my mother granting me a prettier face. She
Demands everyone rewarding her undivided attention. I
Pretended permitting her full control over me – until, I
Ceased pretending!
A blessing or a curse, am I not.
Lack of nurturing,
false, no one – mom and dad did their very best.
Celebrate. I am the pretty one.
Life is all about family and love.
Grounded, stubborn, fearless, am I so.
Sunrise; sundown; circle of seasons,
presenting the most powerful version of me – fiercely, am I not.
Schooling, work, duty, responsibility, I am so.
Tearful five years of family revolution – a summon
From entropy, chaos! Three people
again one – the disgraceful one as I
was named!
Shocking, awakening, baffling, agonizing,
Life is all about family and love.
Eccentric, curious creature, solitude endeavor, am I so.
A grateful heart roaring
Abundant resources, reaching
Extraordinary heights, a lifetime student, am I not.
Millions of mistakes. Countless mis-turns.
Knowledge applied become wisdom.
Walking this lonely road missing
A mentor. Not a road less traveled, but
A road worth travels.
Life is all about family and love.
Ecstatic, untethered, blissed soul, am I so.
My father – a giver, a protector,
a provider – kindest man on earth.
Along the way, without permission, his little girl makes him proud.
Truly my father’s daughter. I am so!
Redeem mother’s homemade
Cooking once more. That’s one
Small step for the self-chained mother, one giant leap
For a tranquil daughter.
Life is all about family and love -- forgivingly.
I ADORED THIS INAUGURATION OBAMA AND MICHELLE THAT DANCE YES WE HAD JOHN MC CAIN HILLARY CLINTON AND BARACK I WAS TORN BY THE GAZA STRIP GEORGIAN THE SHEER HORRID TIMES AS I GAVE MY VITE PROUDLY AWAY FROM MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND I ALLOWED HIS MISTRESS JAY TOWNSEND JOHNSON HENRY TO CONTINUE PERPUTRATING FRAUD AGAINST IMPERSONATING ME AS HIS WIFE THIS RESULTED IN MY HAVING NO OTHER OPTION EXCEPT USING MY MAIDEN NAME ALONG WITH MY MARRIED NAME THIS STOP MY IMPOSTER FROM COMMITTING VOTERS FRAUD WHEN I GAVE MY AMERICAN VOTE FREE FROM THE VITERS FRAUD IF A JAMAICAN DEALERS COMMITTING IDENTITY FRAUD AGAINST ME THERE I WAS PLACING MY VOTE FINALLY RELIEF STIMULUS PACKAGE FROM GEORGE BUSH LEAVING ON AIR FORCE ONE AND THAT DANCE LET'S STAY TOGETHER I VOTED HAPPY TIMES WHEN MY IDENTITY WAS ALL MINE NOT THE IMPOSTER SLEEPING WITH MY ABUSIVE HUSBAND BULLYING IMPERSONATING ME GID ONKY KNOWS WHAT SHE REALLY WAS CAPABLE OF BY GODS GRACE I VOTED THAT YEAR GOD BLESS AMERICA STOP IMMIGRANT JAMAICAN DEALERS FROM IMPERSONATING AMERICANS 1969 CIVIL RIGHTS FIELD TRIP SINGING CIVIL RIGHTS HYMNS ABRAHAM LINCOLNS HOMES I WAS IN FIRST GRADE JAY TOWNSEND JOHNSON HENRY JAMAICAN DEALERS WASN'T EVEN BORN BUT SHE ACTUALLY TRIED TO IMPERSONATE ME IN 1969 SHE READ PIECES OF MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY AS I WROTE ABOUT MY FIRST GRADE CIVIL RIGHTS FIELD TRIP TO SPRINGFIELD ILLINOIS ABRAHAM LINCOLN HOME SHE BECAME MY ABUSIVE HUSBAND SPOUSE IMPERSONATING ME AS I WENT BACK TO MY MAIDEN NAME GOD BLESS AMERICA LET'S STAY TOGETHER LOVING YOU RATHER TIMES ARE GOOD OR BAD HAPPY OR SAD POLITICAL LEADERS DANCE WHAT A BLESSING ANTHONY AND YOLANDA CATHOLIC WAR VETERANS GOD BLESS AMERICA
Hitch-hiked along the East Coast 1968-70
multiple times
Picked up by mini-buses
marijuana high times
Dated a filthy rich gal whose 1971-72
backyard was Hamilton College
We climaxed every night, alright
but didn’t gain any knowledge
Pledged the fraternity where 1969
‘Animal House’ was shot
Quit the very next morning
learned to quit a lot
Got a D- in a Shakespeare class 1971
blamed it on the professor
Retook the same course
almost got an F from his successor…
They say the best teacher is Experience
~ I must have heard ‘Experiments’
_______________________________________________________
This is all completely true, so help me - gulp - G-d!!
Why did mares eat oats?
Mares ate goats!
And did does eat oats?
Nah! Dose oats never don' be eaten!
And how did little lambs eat ivy?
Little lambsy divy is what it is!
Just like Louie didn't Lou-eye,
Neither did Big Birds Cry
Nor did Fools Fall in Love - Y?
MCA, where it's NO FUN to stay
at the Hotel California
where they been whinin'
since 1969 when the Miracle Mets
Svoboda'd the tar out of those Crybaby Cubs...
...And Ron Santa proved clawless
just as Deutchland, uber alles
turned into a pumpkin
like Cinderelly's coach at the palace
of the Ho-ho-ho Green Giant!
He of the beanstalk so pliant and
The red, red robin went
Bop-bop-boppin' along on...
...That starry, starry, night
With that palette painted blue and gray
Air-brushed image of Rock Hudson and Doris Day,
Preceded by the Jack Benny show, Rochester, and Dennis Day,
Reminding me of Bill Dana - Jiminez Jose's
Star-Spangled Blither-Banner:
Jose, can you see by Dawn's Early Lite
Beer: Tastes Great...Less Fillling...
Tastes Great! Less FILLING!
TASTES GREAT! LESS FILLING!...
Tell her, 'Barkis is willing,'
ala Dickensian rhyme:
The answer my friend
Is blowin' til the end of
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme,
Echoed the Zounds of Zilence.
April 29, 2018 -- The Day the Muse Kicked Clyde