Long Petticoat Poems
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Yours truly does readily confess
the following poem crafted more or less
approximately a year ago,
when coronavirus (COVID-19)
wrought havoc creating global mess
when panic against collective temple did press
a feeling of melancholy and world-weariness.
Along luscious green acres banks steep grade
(in close proximity to
Petticoat Junction) naturemade
Perkiomen Valley watershed,
verdant landscape displayed
yours truly, (a garden variety
proto human) arrayed
solely donning birthday suit,
whose fifty plus shades hair gone grayed,
i.e. one infinitesimal measly mortal
whiles away hours, laid
back days of his life as
the world wide web turns
comprising second decade
of twenty first century
civilization, where
coronavirus veritably waylaid
furlough afflicts populations feeling betrayed
entire fabric *****sapiens staid
threadbare existence now best describes
chock full of endemic ennui proliferates,
where vast majority of people afraid
to leave their houses lest COVID-19 played
greater havoc, whereby society already upended
unemployment factor at record high since...
Great depression witnessed
courtesy somber parade,
ninety years ago benchmarked
from May 11, 2021,
an invisible oppressed heaviness weighed
down the madding crowds
aghast how stock market trade
hit rock bottom making paupers,
ill fate clobbered breadwinners
circumstance none could evade
October 29, 1929 haint no charade,
when Black Tuesday hit Wall Street
bitta bing bitta bang bitta played
bitty bitty chitty chitty bang bang
linkedin with irrational exuberance portrayed
American economy supine splayed
versus March 11, 2020 characterized
coronavirus outbreak as pandemic
by the WHO subsequently signaling
Trump cited "fake news" and not dismayed
to expedite drastic measures
none would impede golf nor Mar-a-Lago
leisure him sipping lemonade
acid test tee zing 'bout quaffing electric kool-aid
without getting his doggy dimples in a bunch
he grudgingly complied and obeyed
purveyors (governors) and Anthony Fauci
complete United States government shutdown
approximately mid/late March 2020
which undertaking generated brisk business
grim reaper experienced
(still does) protracted heyday.
American Bandstand, Aqua Velva Ads, Aretha Franklin, and, the Andy Griffith Show
Black lights, Bewitched, bean bag chairs, beads, Batman and the Beatles
Cleopatra, Corvairs, Corvettes, Chevelles, Captain Kangaroo, Civil Rights Movement
Dionne Warwick, Derek and the Dominoes, Dennis the Menace, and Dodge Dart.
Ed Sullivan’s Amateur Hour, Elvis Presley, the Edsel, and new expressions emerge.
Fiddler on the Roof , Flower Power painted vans, Free love, Fiber optic lights,
Giget, Green Acres, Glen Campbell, Gun Smoke, Go-Go Boots, “Go with the flow!”
Hello Dolly, Have Gun Will Travel,and the Hippie Movement begin...“Hang Ten”
Imperial (the car), I dream of Jeanie, and new phrases “In your face” crop up.
JFK youngest U.S. President, and Jackie Kennedy stylish First Lady,
Kennedy was assassinated and the nation mourned the loss of their young leader.
Lamborghini 350 GT, Lava Lamps, Lady and the Tramp, Lost in Space, Lassie
Mousekateers, mini-skirts, mobiles, macramé plant hangars, Mash, The Monkeys,
Nissan Skyline GT-R, Nash Metropolitan, and Nestles’ Nestle were signs of the times.
Ordinary people seek peace during the years of war and social change of the 60s.
Pillsbury Doughboy, Petticoat Junction,and Peter, Paul, and Mary, placate.
Queen for the Day TV show, bring a fantasy escape during radically changing times.
Rabbit ear antennas for TV shows: Route 66, and Rowan and Martin’s Laugh- In.
Sherri Lewis and Lamb Chop, Shake and Bake, and the sexual revolution start.
Twist to The Four Tops, The Flintstones,The Adam’s Family, The Twilight Zone.
“Up your nose with a rubber hose” and similar expressions are the times’ lingo.
Valley of the Dolls, Volkswagon Karmann Ghia, and Vanilla Fudge, gain popularity.
Wonderful World of Disney, Vietnam War, protests, and “Groovy” words crop up.
Xenoglossia emerges; “Make love, not war,” “Far out,” “Catch you on the flip-side.”
Yonderly Vietnam Veterans return home to social unrest without a hero’s honor.
Zanadu dances around in the minds of the partakers; religion is legal, not marijuana.
Copyright March 7, 2015
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: The Decades
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
This potpourri is a redolent of our sweet memories
When you and I happily shared our love under those deciduous trees
Those fragrant petals and autumn leaves were gathered for you to keep
Bear in mind that my love for you will never fade; but, it’ll run so deep.
You will always be in my thoughts while I’m away
When I’m in the battlefield, you’ll always be in my heart to stay
You’ll be the source of my valor, strength and hope to be alive
You’re the only reason why I always dream to survive.
I’ll always remember those blissful moments when I’m with you
You always prepare my breakfast - one of the sweetest things you do
In our dining room, before you serve the meal for me
Center table is adorned with our sweet potpourri.
Oh, how lovely to see you one morning upon waking up
Your beauty I adore is celebrated outside in musical chirrups
In your beige hat, nice dress in billowing skirt with petticoat you wear
With your sister, those sweet potpourri – you lovingly share
Dining room was entirely filled with a morning grace
When sunshine peeps through the window pane, I see a glow on your face
An enlightenment I feel, for I know your melancholy soon to vanish
When the curtains wave, I’m here my love -- don’t feel any anguish.
The picture of you, I paint it enormously in my mind and heart
When the sky dims, it will be my only hope to look at
As every bit of tiny leaves and petals dispel their fragrance into the air
Inhale and feel deep in your heart my everlasting love and care.
June 9, 2013 5. 10pm
Note:
This is a poem dedicated to George Dunlop Leslie. He is really one of the great painters. I admire him and I’m so impressed with his awesome paintings. I thank our dear friend, Isaiah for sharing him with us /me and his works. He truly inspired me to write this poem especially by one of his paintings, Potpourri. I imagined myself as the lady on his painting. i: )))))
First Place
Contest: Any Poem Goes
Judged: 6/19/13
Sponsor: Poet Skat
Second Place
Contest: George Dunlop Leslie (Choose a title from one of his paintings)
Judged: 6/17/13
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Along luscious green acres banks steep grade
(in close proximity to
Petticoat Junction) naturemade
Perkiomen Valley watershed,
verdant landscape displayed
yours truly, (a garden variety
proto human) arrayed
solely donning birthday suit,
whose fifty plus shades hair gone grayed,
i.e. one infinitesimal measly mortal
whiles away hours, laid
back days of his life as
the world wide web turns
comprising second decade
of twenty first century
civilization, where
coronavirus veritably waylaid
furlough afflicts populations feeling betrayed
entire fabric *****sapiens staid
threadbare existence now best describes
chock full of endemic ennui proliferates,
where vast majority of people afraid
to leave their houses lest COVID-19 played
greater havoc, whereby society already upended
unemployment factor at record high since...
Great depression witnessed
courtesy somber parade,
eighty nine years ago benchmarked
from May 11, 2020,
an invisible oppressed heaviness weighed
down the madding crowds
aghast how stock market trade
hit rock bottom making paupers,
ill fate clobbered breadwinners
circumstance none could evade
October 29, 1929 haint no charade,
when Black Tuesday hit Wall Street
bitta bing bitta bang bitta played
bitty bitty chitty chitty bang bang
linkedin with irrational exuberance portrayed
American economy supine splayed
versus March 11, 2020 characterized
coronavirus outbreak as pandemic
by the WHO subsequently signaling
Trump cited "fake news" and not dismayed
to expedite drastic measures
none would impede golf, nor Mar-a-Lago
leisure him sipping lemonade
acid test teetotaler - tee zing 'bout
not quaffing electric kool-aid
without getting his doggy dimples in a bunch
he grudgingly complied and obeyed
purveyors (governors) and Anthony Fauci
complete United States government shutdown
approximately mid/late March 2020
which undertaking generated brisk business
grim reaper experienced
(still does) protracted heyday.
The shows I watched when young were black and white.
About five channels came on day and night.
The Beaver, Opie, Jeanie, Flying Nun
were characters I liked both good and fun.
Shows of humor sometimes missed their function;
one like that for sure was “Petticoat Junction.”
But “Laugh-In,” “Lucy,” and “Bewitched” were cool;
“Three Stooges” I rushed home for after school.
“Lassie” for the kiddies, “Rifleman” for dad,
“The Man From U.N.C.L.E” for us all, a 60’s fad.
By standards of today, those shows were tame.
The raciest perhaps was “The Dating Game!”
One genius fat guy, Hitchcock, gave a thrill
with horror tales. I like those re-runs still!
But there’s one 60s TV show that I
recall the best; I’ll finish telling why!
“Bonanza,” broadcast Sundays, was the one
for romance, drama, and great family fun,
for on the Ponderosa lived wise Ben
and his three sons, well-off but simple men.
The chubby one named Hoss was kind of sweet.
The oldest, Adam, I found really neat!
Little Joe, whom we girls would like to marry,
later moved to “Little House on the Prairie!”
It may not have been best of old TV,
but it was sure a cherished show for me
because it came each Sunday night at eight,
a special time so great I could not wait!
My mom and dad and we eight kids would sit
together happily enjoying it.
Before the show began my mom would pop
a huge pan full of popcorn, butter on top.
Each time commercials came, we’d dip a bowl
of ours into that pan; I’d get so full
for I’d eat eight or ten small bowls of it.
Once I begin with popcorn, I can’t quit!
This was the family custom I lived for
since television and food I both adore.
It was the night we all together sat
enthralled, and there’s not much that can beat that!
Written by Andrea Dietrich
(I have too many today to name TV favorites but I really
think "Bonanza" has to be my favorite from my childhood!)
For Michael J. Falotico's "Ryhme Me An Old TV SHow.... Poetry Contest"
The year was 1680 and I was travelling,
I sat in the carriage looking out the window;
The coachman was driving the horses quickly,
As a storm was approaching us from behind.
Thunder was booming and rolled over the forest,
Already raindrops were falling on the glass;
The sky was overcast with dark shifting clouds,
And everything was getting dull and gloomy.
This road was so deserted and remote from civilization,
I must admit that I was afraid.
Suddenly the carriage lurched and was falling over,
It bounced through the foliage, twisting and turning;
And then it stopped and all was quiet and still,
The coachman was dead and the horses also.
Struggling, I managed to climb back up to the road,
My corseted body, full overskirt of pink satin;
And parchment petticoat unsuitable for climbing,
The bun on my head loosened and my hair fell.
Oh dear, it was so dark and misty on the road ahead.
But I started to walk in the inkiness.
The forest around me was pitch black and frightening,
But there, through the trees a light was burning;
The rain was coming down in torrents that blinded me,
As I stumbled forward through the tangled trees.
A wood cabin was hidden in green lush vegetation,
It looked so secluded and isolated and lonely;
But I found myself banging on the door loudly,
As sheets of rain poured on me from up above.
And then the door slowly opened and light spilled out,
And I stood there dripping wet, and . . . .
________________________
August 22, 2015
Poetry/Narrative/Cabin in the Forest
Copyright Protected, ID 15-702-939-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Dutiful discipline drives devoted diligence...
Quotidian dedication describes
das deft dude,
his promising passion
with English language
within recent past dim sum
might notice he brewed
poems about common
trials and tribulations food
for thought self sadist factorially
reasonably rhyming oft times
incorporating analogy, metaphor, simile
more so to stave
writer's block fortitude attitude
versus less to impress any
first time unknown reader,
or anonymous regular
guy/gal follower disproportionately
emphasizing burgeoning agonizing
travails analogously Druid
cursed his existence fearsome
oaf got me matt chewed
rendered into pulp fiction
subsequently spit viewed
within circle comprising
cannibalistic primate creatures
roam'n around within
makeshift amphitheater crude,
yet sophisticated as
simplistically configured, construed
convoluted edifice witnessed
snaking snarky conga line
weaving and bobbing amidst
totemic pillars where well
kneaded, muscled, oiled...
flesh glimmering while nude
on green acres, whereat
arbitrary petticoat junction etude
aired by linkedin foo fighting
beastie boys in the hood
paying homage to their
benevolent patron - Saint Jude
honoring self serving
cisco, duck, eagle - feather nesting
arrogant, bombastic, conceited...,
egos trumpeting barren airs
exuberantly keyed how
village people got royally screwed
taken to cleaners riverside,
whereby sudden deluge didst flood
courtesy of... mad
don (huh) feeling stewed,
who sought world dominance
raged at populace he should
receive nobel peace prize
and voted, nee crowned emperor
demanded cachet else...
he promised to force unglued
freedoms of life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness!
Das dada = codified bonafide anachronism
me thoughts infused
with thom hankering for yesteryear
circa antebellum i.e.
American Civil War era veer
rilly, teetering, smoldering, rumbling
upon iniquitous tier
United States greenacres crossroads
with petticoat junction spear
ritually hexed courtesy anti abolitionists
pitted against unfair
slavery, yours truly spellbound
gravitating, fixating, entrancing,
an invisible sonneteer
disembodied spirit transported
back in time,
qua closing first decade
of twenty century aware
how historical events will unfold,
yet lacking means
to affect alternate outcome,
though yearning to spare
fledgling democracy deaf to blare
ring coming fury me unseen
relishing preponderant naiveté
and childlike innocence
before internecine warfare
many stripling young lads,
yet to sprout facial hair
trumpeting, scampering, rejoicing
after favored lass with no care
gathering rosebuds while they may
before their brave hearts got
touched, torched, taxed...
with fire, ah... so cavalier
wondering, speculating, nursing
curiously piqued how adaware
those who frolicked
within Autumn mist did revere
observing what didst appear
oblivious laughter and attitude
analogous to good cheer
omnipresent at Renaissance Faire,
no doubt trials and tribulations
compromised welfare
envious countless scores generations
past knew not global threats,
nonetheless societal fabric circa
early/mid nineteenth century
severely wrenched when
Emancipation Proclamation didst declare
manumision, though sadly
blatant anti semitism, bigotry, racism...,
trumpeted within rank putrid odor
doth still fill the air!
I have forfeited every inch
Of your bitter blow
And you have reaped the profit.
You took my discretion for granted
And placed me inside a cage.
You withered,
Disdainfully,
In an open page.
The palate of your face
Eating at the sky
And delivering me to justice.
Haunting me and my forbidden womb.
Drenching the maggots
In silver and golden
As they nibble at a
Greasy toothed moron
From the grave.
And in temptation,
You'll haunt them too.
A wandering pilgrimage
Isn't far from you.
And with this thought,
Your on foot,
Fleeing to the very next castle
Of whore ridden death and degenerates.
And because of his avarice
You will never turn back.
And because the tips of her hair,
Drenched in brandy
And ever tickling at your spine,
You will never turn back.
At agate,
An open wound sits
Mingling with the dark and the lecherous.
Having cocktails with the waitress
Whose initials spell hepatitis
And whose breasts aren't far from
The waist you see so fit.
Gangrene has not swallowed
This slit up just yet
And it is far too simpleminded
Of you to forget how you pleaded
With her to let it heal.
Let it heal.
Let it stop.
Let it seal.
To free the ever so silent songbird
Who has been caged in your debt
For centuries,
Bargaining and wagering with
The undertaker
And licking at injustice with her toes,
Wanting nothing more than to bear
The child of a man who hates the sea
But is born from the salt of it's accomplices.
A man whose bitter death is but a tragedy
To shoe makers
But sleeps under a petticoat
For fear of losing his head.
The man who holds his key so tightly
With all probability and intention
Of letting it go.
Age One to five,
diaper, t-shirt, panties, petticoat, dress, hair ribbon,
Six to ten
car coat, patent leather shoes, apron, white pedal pushers, ruffled top,
Eleven to fifteen
Liz blouse, go-go boots, faux leather jumper,
bellbottoms, polyester pantsuit,
Sixteen to twenty
shirt dress, blue jeans, two piece swimming suit,
dark gray coat with rabbit collar, diamond ring,
Twenty-one to Twenty-five
fancy lingerie, maternity top, short shorts, zigzag dress,
burgundy leather coat with white fox collar with matching fox hat,
Twenty-six to Thirty
suits with skirts, high heel shoes, pink ski coat with white faux fur collar, dressy dresses, sandals,
Thirty-one to Thirty-five
ruby ring, diamond necklace, opal ring, moonstone pendant, emerald ring,
Thirty-six to Forty
diamond cocktail ring, fancy turquoise bracelet, pearl earrings, slacks, Girl Scout leader uniform,
Forty-one to Forty-five
purses, floral scarves, sweat pants, diamond necklace, ruby ring,
Forty-six to Fifty
opal pendant shaped like a bear, silver strand necklace,
fancy tops with rhinestones, knitted hats, knitted scarves,
Fifty-one to Fifty-Five
handmade sweaters, one pair of blue jeans, jackets, tank tops, I love Grandma sweatshirt,
Fifty-six to Sixty
one piece swimming suits, fluffy socks, pajamas, fuzzy robes, elastic waist line pants,
Sixty-one to Sixty-five
hoodies, tennis shoes, fancy bag, one pair of blue jeans, pajamas
Sixty-six to Sixty-Eight
long sweater like we wore in the late sixties, bell bottom pants I found last year in a store, and paint clothes because I am an artist and when I am not writing poems, I am painting canvases.