Long Fifties Poems
Long Fifties Poems. Below are the most popular long Fifties by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fifties poems by poem length and keyword.
I was driving down a dirt road
in New York’s backcountry, upstate,
when I came upon a dead-end
near a small dairy farm, sedate.
The farmer must have though me strange,
and inquired if I was lost,
I said,”No, I’m just wandering,”
and with a small wave, I was off.
My wife doesn’t understand it,
makes no damn sense to souls like her,
but it truly makes me happy
to just go out and wander.
My dad says it’s a waste of gas,
extra miles on the tires,
I’m hastening my own car’s death,
corroding the breaks and wires.
my brother thinks it’s so boring,
that there’s nothing out there to do,
but that’s how I feel at parties,
he cannot get my point-of-view.
Everyone worries that I’ll break down,
and not be able to get back,
I say that I like to wander,
but they just can’t understand that.
Can’t understand that every scene
is a painting of earth and stone,
and each new place a masterwork
that before I’d never known:
a red barn weather by the wind,
an old rock wall shrouded by trees,
ravines carved out by fast torrents,
abandoned car from the fifties,
a larch clad in autumn yellow,
spike-horn from his browsing disturbed,
dirt roads unchanged from ancient days,
all are there when I wander..
The world’s too big to see it all,
but that doesn’t mean I won’t try,
I’ve got this one existence to
drink the beauty in with my eyes.
It may not make sense to most folk,
but then again, I never did,
I always craved experience,
even since I was a small kid.
What’s waiting ’round the next corner?
Where are the vistas I’ve not found?
I’m a man who likes to wander,
excuse me, I must go now…
Ice, ice, baby
You pour me over maybe
A straw to pierce the depths
Inhale the deepest breaths
A fancy glass all fluted
In milky joy I'm rooted
A scoop of whizzed banana
Tastes of pure Americana
The decor is all flashy
Just white and red, not trashy
All dressed up in your nifties
Time travel to the fifties
For teens on scooters suited
All sweetness undiluted
A jukebox in the corner
Soothes away all worldy trauma
Drop a dime to stick a tune on
Whirrs and clicks to drop the best song
Grab yourself a Coca-Cola
Dance in lights from the Rock-Ola
Gals all twirls and frilly knickers
Dudes in shiny winkle pickers
There's an innocence and beauty
As they jive to Tutti Frutti
How we'd love to travel back there
Leaving every burden and care
Just an evening sure to thrill ya
Taste of ice-cold pure vanilla
I want a tree like my grandmother had, Lizabeth said.
She planned and schemed and wrote it down from her head.
It was the fifties when trees were aqua, silver and pink.
People thought they were modern, boy, what a think!
Jennifer searched forever for the exact shade of pink.
She showed it to grandma and said, “What do you think?”
Grandma was delighted, it was like the one she had as a new bride.
I cannot tell you how excited I am with this tree by my side.
It reminds me of my honeymoon, for we married in November.
It reminds me of marvelous Christmas memories in December.
It reminds me of Grandpa, I am sure he can see it where he is.
I am honored by this gesture, she said to her granddaughter Liz.
He was born in Chicago in 1933,
and became one of the best acts anyone could see.
In the fifties, with the “Teenage Kings of Harmony”,
with classmate Sam Cooke, he gained great popularity.
He joined “The Pilgrim Travelers” after the army.
In a South car crash, he was a near fatality.
It took more than a year to regain his memory.
Lou Rawls became popular with his deep velvet voice.
His more than seventy albums with hit songs were choice.
He made his mark in the sixties with a recording
that went to number one called “Love is a Hurting Thing”.
“Lady Love”, You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine,”
and “Natural Man” were his biggest hit songs so fine.
Lou became great with raising funds for some charities
that would help black colleges and universities.
This was a man who achieved so much during his day.
In January 2006, he passed away.
Thanks to wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for valuable information I obtained to write this poem.
I was mesmerized by his blonde hair and blue eyes
He was a teen idol in the fifties, where I lived
A teen heart throb, adored by most of us
When Damn Yankees came out, I was thrilled
He was innocent, enticed by big bad Gwen Verdon
Though I was a child, I wanted her to leave him alone
I felt he was mine. Loved seeing his photos in magazines.
He was in comedies and musicals, and good in both genres.
I feel I could melt looking into those blue eyes.
Tab Hunter, a gorgeous man, loved by most of us preteens.
Adored as much as we liked Frankie Avalon, maybe more adored.
I take a deep sigh as I remember his blue eyes and lovely smile.
With The Dandy, The Beano
The Eagle and Dan Dare
Dick Barton on the radio
The Goon Show on air
Riders of the Range
Journey into space
We kids of the fifties
Had our special place
Glued to the wireless
No screens in sight
The Third Programme the
Home Service and the light
When Sunday night came
Waiting patiently about
For Radio Luxembourg
Fading in and out.
Carters little liver pills
Horace Bachelor’s tips
For winning the Pools
Fish and four of chips
Salt and vinegar Splash
Newspaper wrapping
Listenining to the music
Feet quietly tapping
Playing in the fields
Hours out in the wild
This was the life of
A fifties poor child.
No time to be miserable
Deprived or dull
With such a childhood
So active and full.
Dennis the Menace Desperate Dan
Biffo, Ace Detective Harris Tweed
From the Eagle Dandy and Beano
All those comics we used to read
Mid-nineteen-fifties were my teenage years,
and rock 'n roll band songs made happy days.
Among the best, 'The Platters' songs were dear
while thinking of my true love- as always.
'My Prayer' and 'Only You' were special songs
that captured the true meaning of our love;
"my prayer- to linger with you" still belongs
forever in our hearts- fits like a glove.
And, 'Only You', those words have always been
our favored ones- the song we used that day
when we were married to new life begin-
and sixty-two years later- here to stay.
A special time, a special band were they-
'The Platters' songs became our hearts' mainstay.
August 21, 2016 (revised 07/17/2020)
Contest: Same Old Song
Sponsor: Beth Evans
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Lyrics - My Prayer
When the twilight is gone and no songbirds are singing
When the twilight is gone you come into my heart
And here in my heart, you will stay while I pray
My prayer is to linger with you
At the end of the day in a dream that's divine
My prayer is a rapture in blue
With the world far away and your lips close to mine
Tonight while our hearts are aglow
Oh tell me the words that I'm longing to know
My prayer and the answer you give
May they still be the same for as long as we live
That you'll always be there at the end of my prayer
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Lyrics - Only You
Only you can make this world seem right
Only you can make the darkness bright
Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do
And fill my heart with love for only you
Only you can make this change in me
For it's true, you are my destiny
When you hold my hand I understand the magic that you do
You're my dream come true, my one and only you…
Back in the fifties
America seemed much calmer
McCarthy's commie blacklists
Sputnik's shocking launch
Ike's wife Mamie so sedate
That pre-historic hairdo
World War Two over
We needed some time to heal
Alan Ginsburg penned his 'Howl'
Chuck Berry goosed his walk
The West Wing conservative
White House picket-fence painted
Boom! an explosion
Cultural revolution
Sixties' deaths brought us down
Hendrix, Morrison
Jackie became Onassis
Where's JFK's Camelot
Seventies came, went
Eighties crashed, burned, flamed out too
But Jerry Rubin's Wall Street
Greed ruled the Nineties
Internet changed all of us
The world at a click-click-click
New Millenium
Rapid change hurtles forward
People do change, however
Shootings dot landscape
Retreat into our smartphones
Loneliness Unconnected
Now the Age of Trump
Rears its flame-orange mane and screams
Me-too Movement gains traction
Women come forward
Teen suicide rate rises
Society imperiled
May 07, 2019
Entry: 'Best Sedoka' contest
Sponsor: Lu Loo
Horn Music
In the late forties and middle fifties
horn music and military marches tunes
were often parlayed in the town's park
and we lived nearby and bore the brunt
of this noisy music
to complain was not easy as the music
was seen as an expression of freedom
chasing the German army out of our
cherished country, admittingly with
the help of the Russian army, the
British took the credit
Horn music is simply horrible to enjoy
the noise one has to be unmusical
one would think the noise had stopped
with the arrival of modernity, rock and roll
and Elvis Priestly, but no
I was invited in the eighties to read a poem
in Oslo. When my turn came to read
the horn orchestra struck up.
Beaverish, feverish
hot Mrs. Cleaver wished
that her affair had not
given her clap.
Fast Eddie Haskell, her
boy-toy, that rascal, his
transmissibility
claims were all crap.
“Tickle me, pickle me,
say it’s not true, for if
you have the clap then I
must have it too!”
Doctors prescribed her some
anti-microbials,
Ward soon found out that she
had been untrue.
Beaver was curious,
Ward was so furious,
fake news of Eddie’s lewd
films made him snap.
“June, you’re so sensible,
incomprehensible,
that you could fall for that
con-artist’s crap!”
Friskiness, riskiness,
ratings were rising, but
not so surprising they
cancelled the show.
Frightened by content too
radiological,
sponsors said “Beaver” was
not apropos.