Short Sixty Three Poems

Dead at sixty-three
Why?
Did you even stand a chance...

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Maybe I am here to show you 
what the world has never shown me....

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Once an old lady of sixty-three
Stayed up all night quite easily 
They gave her sleep aids 
They pulled down the shades
Drugs have the opposite effect on me....

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Frida died today
sixty three years gone those brows,
but her art lives on.

Such pain and great strength,
with fierce love for painting,
and for Diego.

So many selfies,
Mexican skulls and culture
a unique vision....

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The richest man in town was
Arrogant and selfish
And we stayed away from him

Until he won the lottery
Then we galivanted to his house
Thinking he would share

Forgetting that your personality does not change
Just because you win a mere sixty-three million dollars...

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March 17 in eighteen sixty three
Will spin and pivot 
Ancestry
As the fulcrum of this country
It is the unholy fire
Baal's tongue licking at the bones
Defied by desire
O but the ash is better balm
Then endless years
Where freedom wilts
A seedling watered by the salt of tears...

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Picture this
World famous photographer
Or maybe not
Anyway, illusion of being one

Picture this
Shuts himself inside a darkroom
Most of sixty three years
Breathing
Ferric Chloride

Picture this
Dangerously alone
Loving his life
Creating fantastical photographs
Killing himself in the best way possible
Enjoying his art daily...

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Ron-- dashing mate of adult years
With zest for  life so free;
Our ventures a potion!
My chum jives despite weary limbs !
In town at sixty-three -
We'll dunk food, share beer- tales



Contest by nette onclaud, Keep It Brief
2 Aug 2019
"I'm having an old friend for dinner."
The Silence of the Lambs, 1991

reviewed www.howmanysyllables...

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I open up my piggy bank
I bust it open with a hammer
and as I take out the change I count out...

27-pennies

fourteen dollars in quarters

35-nickles

361-pennies

Twenty dollars in dimes

took it all the bank change totaled out to be...
thirty-nine dollars and sixty-three cents


3/24/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2018©...

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When I'm Sixty Four
by Rick Rucker

Now that the New Year has begun,
I'm going to work harder, to be sure to get things done!

Last year, I was content to Let It Be,
But I was a youngster, a mere lad of sixty three!

In a couple weeks, I'll have that luxury no more,
I'll have to try so much harder, When I'm Sixty Four!
...

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A farewell never passed
Our valediction lost to the winds
A lifetime of rage and anguish
Flowing hotly upon the detriment
And breaching.
Though not without conflict
It is under the shadow of war
Within these shattered burnt ruins 
Remains the anguish
Of sixty three years
A recollection that seeps into the void
Of my spirit
Haunting my sleep…...

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When you growing older
The ugly parrots of birthdays 
Delightfully remind your age
You tell them shut up 
They cry out loudly
Once these parrots 
Were sweet nightingales 
Singing nicely on the early days
Twenty one
Twenty two
Twenty three
And now with a nasty voice 
As boaster parrots 
Break your eardrums 
Sixty three
Sixty four
Sixty five....

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The day was November twenty second,
of the year nineteen sixty three.
I saw every family member,
with their eyes glued to the T.V.

It is a day I'll remember,
not just because Kennedy had just died.
It was the first time, for me,
that I saw my momma cry.


Paula Swanson 9/26/2011


For the contest; One Stand Out Day
Sponsored by Frank Herrera
Placement: 6th...

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At age three, it's 'Mommy, mommy'
  At twenty-three, I'm still carefree

At thirty-three, it's not quite all about me
  At forty-three, there's responsibility

At fifty-three, I'm starting to see
  At sixty-three, all night I pee

At seventy-three, retired and free
  At eighty-three, just you and me

At ninety-three, drink herbal tea
  ~At one-oh-three, I'm a mummy...

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Roy went an extra mile last week
while traveling from Stoke to Leek
by high-speed rail (First-Class, off-peak).

In truth, a little more;

It was an extra sixty-three
he ended up in Oswestry;
decided to explore and see;

He’d never been before.

He saw the castle and the keep;
It is one way to travel cheap;
to board a train then fall asleep;

(the secret’s not to snore)....

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sixty-three hippie
                                             guard supervise prisoners  
                                                daisies woven crown



© By: Eve Roper
3/1 6/2015





This is in honor of my sister in-law, she use to be a flower child when she was in her teens. She has been a prison guard for almost 16 years and she has never grown out of the era of dress..... ?????...

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Standing on curb edge looking at tar bubbles
In joints of street cobblestone heated by
Seldom seen Liverpool sun
Sticking twig sticks in to break them
Then lifting the shiny wetness of them
To stick onto the curb edge
The rough blunt edge of granite
Next to the flat smooth flag stones
Where did that word come from?
Holds the twig firmly
For a brief childhood moment
Remembered clearly
Sixty three years later...

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I want a silver tree because I did not get one in sixty-three
She was adamant about it, my great granny Fee.
We gave her one for Christmas, feeling lots of glee.
Didn’t remember they were ugly, said disappointed she.

Why did you want one? Asked her great grandson Lee.
Because everybody on the block got one except for me.
My daddy said they were ugly, she said with a tee hee.
We ribbed her about this forever, loved teasing granny Fee....

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The undersides of school chairs
   all gooey with gum
We thought it such fun
   back in sixty-one

In sixty-two we tore fruit loops
   from the backs of girls' shirts
The innocent way
   we first learned to flirt

In sixty-three we all wore
   skin-tight 'H.I.S.' pants
That ripped near your bulges
   when you started to dance

Memories glorious
   like your first cigarette
Or a long drawn-out kiss
   with that gorgeous brunette...

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Turtle came in with the world’s silliest grin
It split his face in two, and was long as his chin
Whipped out the birthday sign with a flourish all gay
Which meant it took him the best part of a day

He was sixty-three days late, but that did not matter.
Turtle is usually a little bit slower, he is not a mad hatter.
I thanked him profusely wondering if the card was all I would get.
Your present is back home, he told me. I’ll be back in a bit....

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I often in my mind’s eye see
a garland gracing our live tree
on Christmas nineteen sixty-three.
We kids viewed this long popcorn strand   
with pride. Each had produced by hand
one string. Then Mom turned three to one.
It was a time of joy and fun.

Written May 6, 2019
     

Not Placed, A Garland Contest, judged on May 25, 2019

Date: May 27, 2019
Contest: Writing Challenge 4, May 2019, No Placement Poetry Contest
     Placed 3rd
Sponsor: Dear Heart...

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An open letter to chicks like thee,
You wait until you're nearly sixty-three,
You'll end up talking like me,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society,
Fine-thinking women, very snippy,
Got no time for nasties and rudies,
"What's this?" "What's for tea?"
"A plate of good manners from me!"
(And the Dead Grandmas Society!),
A fact of life, real scary,
When you're nearly sixty-three,
Words appear from the clouds, prithee,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society...........

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Your nose bled last night,
suddenly, without reason
except for the blood thinners you're on,
but then you are almost ninety-three.

I worried about you, my historical, fun loving father,
though we laughed when I said,
"You'd better not die before your book launch,"
and you asked, "Can I die after?"

Still we put our joking away
when we heard the little girl inside me begging,
"Please don't die, Daddy and leave me an orphan,
please, please, please, although I'm sixty-three."...

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