Early Works - Big John
Across the silver screen, he rode
a man hell bent for leather.
The idol of generations young and old,
a broad shouldered man with raunchy face
who always fought the good fight.
For fifty years, he rode the screen trail,
but now he’s gone, his name will remain,
as there was only one John Wayne.
13 June 1979
Author’s note:
I wrote this tribute to John Wayne who died on the 12th June 1979. Whom for half a century gave enjoyment to millions. Yes, I was a fan as well.
poem by David Harris
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Early Works - Men With Wings
For years untold men have looked to the sky,
have tried to build wings on which to fly,
like Icraus who with his wings of wax
soared in the sky like a bird,
but who flew to close to the sun
where his wings melted and to the sea fell.
Other men came and other men tried,
in failure their names in time hide,
but soon the missing element was found,
the element, which could get them off the ground.
An Albatross of plastic wings
soars through the early morning sky
across a channel of salty waves
of which it glides just above.
From Eagle and Dragonfly,
man now has the ability to fly.
Author’s Note:
The above poem was written as a tribute to the men of the Gossamer Albatross who crossed the English Channel on the 12th June 1979.
13 June 1979
poem by David Harris
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Hell Bent For Leather
Seek him here, seek him on the highway
Never knowing when hell appear
All await, engines ticking over
Hear the roar as they sense the fear
Wheels! a glint of steel and a flash of light!
Screams! from a streak of fire as he strikes!
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Black as night, faster than a shadowcrimson flare from a raging sun
An exhibition, of sheer precision
Yet no one knows from where he comes
Fools! self destruct cannot take that crown
Dreams! crash one by one to the ground
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Theres many who tried to prove that theyre faster
But they didnt last and they died as they tried
Theres many who tried to prove that theyre faster
But they didnt last and they died as they tried
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Works - Old Friend, New Times
Face?
I’ve seen it somewhere before
.
When?
In the distance long ago.
Who?
Someone who used to visit me.
Friend?
Almost positive a friend of a kind.
Speak.
“Hello stranger, how are you? ”
Surprise.
“Haven’t we met somewhere before? ”
Nod.
“Oh, yes, now let me see.”
Years.
“My how they have changed us both.”
Remember.
“All those good time that we had.”
Memories.
“Vaguely in the long dim past.”
Drink?
“Not tonight I’m afraid.”
Goodbye.
“Been nice to see you.”
Au revoir.
“Yes, we’ll have to meet again.”
10 June 1979
Author’s note.
This piece reveals the feelings of a meeting with an old friend whom I had not seen in eleven years.
poem by David Harris
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Three Silver Screen Cowboys (Fun Poem 24)
The Lone Ranger with a hearty cry,
from within a cloud of dust,
you can hear him say “Hi Ho, woe, woe, woe Silver,
as he hangs onto Silver’s tail.
He is hanging there because he called Silver a naughty word.
Silver did not like it one little bit.
Now he’s off down the canyon,
in a cloud of dust and boots alight,
trying to get Silver to slow down,
so he can apologise to him.
I do not suspect you have ever heard
of a guy they called Sunset Carson.
One day he rode off with a gal
into the sunset,
and was never seen again.
That is probably why
you have never heard of him.
There used to be a cowboy
who rode the silver screen.
He was one of the good guys at that
and his name was “Hoot” Gibson.
Now did you ever wonder
How “Hoot” ever got the name?
He jumped on a horse one day
while making a film,
and he hit the saddle horn.
You could hear him for miles,
shouting, “Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! ”
That is how “Hoot” Gibson was born.
poem by David Harris
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Early Works - Bob And June
If this world should ever end
in the next we’d still be friends
for though we are from different walks of life
with different worries and strife
we combined together in strength of force
with friendship as a straight and narrow course.
Bob is the youngest of us all
isn’t very tall, but his friendship
is something you cannot explain
it’s true and sound, something profound.
June, Bob’s wife I’ve not known that long
has given me friendship and hope that’s strong
that’s why when together in a room
all sadness by happy faces and laughter is consumed.
Though our world is changing rapidly
our friendship will remain constantly
for our friendship will never break
of this make no mistake
for ours is a true friendship rarely found
in this world that revolves around.
That’s why this poem of friendship does conclude
my tribute to Bob and June.
Date unknown. (Probably early 1970s)
Authors note:
The sad note to this poem only recently found is that June died a few years ago of cancer. Bob afterward withdrew from friends and family until his whereabouts at present is unknown. I believe that we will meet again whether it is in this world or the next.
poem by David Harris
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Cowboy and Dad
cowboy films
they were dad's favourite
and he did want me
to be a cowboy
each time giving
me that smart pose
of john wayne
and speaking in his tongue
dad's golden years
we spent quite a lot
of time in the theatres
watching nothing
but cowboy movies
those movies with
plenty of gunshots
bravemen and cowards
a lost child
and his gun toting dad
i was a mere three foot tall
but dad did want me
to be a cowboy even then
ever enthusiastic in
showing me
that smart pose
with his leather hat
that bent upwards
tipped
at an angle
i tried them all
gun, imagined horse,
and that round little black patch
with a rubber strip
that i worn over an eye
crying in my prebuscent voice
'bang! bang! bang! '
our seating room
the battle field
a giant and a little cowboys
acting out the scenes
in the cowboy movies
one day neighbour george
walked into the house
and were caught
between in a flurry of bullets
to say sorry, we told him
he could be the next wayne
in our own movie
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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June Bug
They call me a June Bug, But I don't come in June
They really should call me a May Bug
I fly all night looking for a light
A little romance and then love
I'm the June Bug of another's dream
Yeah, I'm the one that's on your screen
I'm the one that comes in the hundreds
The one you step over with your feet
I'm a June Bug, A June Bug
I'm roly poly round
Looking for love, Yeah, looking for love
And I know it's flying around
I spend seven years in that ground
And all I ever am is a Grub
Of course when I climb out of that hole
I wanna find me a little bug love
You want to see my buddies?
Well, just keep that light burning bright
We will come in the thousands
And visit you all night
We come up from the ground
At night we can be found
We visit you in the month of May
And all night we hang around
You want to know just why
We don't move when you come outside?
Well, that's because a Bug named Fred
Told us all to pretend we died
We come up from the ground
All we want is a little Bug love
But I tell you that ain't easy
Sometimes it's just real tough
I saw Sam the Bug the other day
Flying straight for a big head light
I guess he liked it quite a lot
Because he is still there and bright
Poor Arnold the Bug, Well, I don't know
He is stuck on someone's shoe
We tried to tell him but he had listened to Fred
That Bug just wouldn't move
You think you've got troubles
Well, let me just tell you
You don't know the half of it
Til a shoe comes down on you
All we want is a little love
A little bit of that Bug love stuff
Although we come in the month of May
They call me a June Bug
A June Bug, A June Bug
I'm roly poly round
Looking for love, Yeah, looking for love
And I know it's flying around!
copyright 2005 Bill Simmons
aka [email protected]
poem by Bill Simmons
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The 60th Anniversary of D-Day
The Jewish World has much to praise
Those that fought on that Great Day,
To release the World from tyranny great,
Which could have sealed the Jewish Fate,
Had Germany not fallen before
The Allied Armies knocking at their door.
On the beaches of Normandy they fought,
On 6th of June 1944 began that onslaught.
Those courageous men who fought and died,
Remembered by comrades still alive,
On this, the 6th June 2004,
Sixty years after they fought that war.
© Jonathan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 6 June 2004
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
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Mad As We Are
Yes I drink away the hurt, and wishing that the ghost would fade away
There was something more I had to do before you turned and walked away
Promises broken easily
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Pins and needles climbing up
The spite of bold cathedrals ever high
I'm not sure that I could cross this river, I'm not sure I want to try
Shadows is that's left of you
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Like moths in the night
Promises broken easily
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Like moths in the night
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wayne Gretzky
Wayne Gretzky, the only man Id have sex with
Wayne Gretzky, Id be intimate with
Wayne Gretzky, I think hes kind of sexy
Wayne Gretzky, I wonder what he looks like naked
Oh I wonder what it would be like
To have sex with the great one
Oh I wonder what it would be like
To have sex with the leagues leading scorer
Wayne gretzky, I know he's a married man
But maybe, hed be attracted to me
Darren Pfeiffer, stupid American boy
Wayne gretzky, very handsome canadian man
Oh I wonder what it would be like
To have sex with the great one
Oh I wonder what it would be like
To have sex with the leagues leading scorer
(yeah, I wonder what it would be like. ah, it'll never happen.
It's a pipe dream. Wait a minute, i'm not even gay, i'm married,
whatever...)
Wayne gretzky, I love you wayne gretzky yeah
song performed by by Goldfinger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Wild Love
My wild love went ridin
She rode all the day
She wrote to the devil
And asked him to pay
The devil was wiser
Its time to repent
He asked her to give back
The money she spent
My wild love went ridin
She rode to the sea
She gathered together
Some shells for her head
She rode and she rode on
She rode for a while
Then stopped for an evenin
And lay her head down
She rode on to christmas
She rode to the farm
She rode to japan
And re-entered a town
By this time the weather
Had changed one degree
She asked for the people
To let her go free
My wild love is crazy
She screams like a bird
She moans like a cat
When she wants to be heard
My wild love went ridin
She rode for an hour
She stopped and she rested
And then she rode on
Ride, cmon
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Tribute To Dad
When kids my age were searching for
Heroes, the likes of Roy Rodgers,
Gene Autry, Hoppy and John Wayne
I already had my idol.
A hero is supposed to be
Courageous and strong and favored
By god. This description aptly
fit father then as a youngster
And today on this special day.
And when he died some years ago
A light was extinguished within
My soul leaving a darkened void
Where once my action hero, dad
Was surely the best of them all.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Rainy Day In June
I need some sunshine on my face
To help me dry my eyes
I need a blue sky over here
So I can clear my mind
Maybe your soft breath on my back
To make me feel at ease
Anything more than what I've got
On this rainy day in June
It's a rainy day in June
The sky is grey and I am blue
Tryin' to make it without you
On this rainy day in June
Yesterday morning I woke up
On the wrong side of the bed
And on the right side laid a note
I knew what it said
Then the rain came, hasn't stopped
I don't know if it will
But I'll keep waiting with the hopeful heart
On this rainy day in June
It's a rainy day in June
The sky is grey and I am blue
Tryin' to make it without you
On this rainy day in June
The thunder rolls, the lightning flashes
Every thought began with you
I see your face in every clouded paths
On this rainy day in June
It's a rainy day in June
The sky is grey and I am blue
Tryin' to make it without you
On this rainy day in June
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Not For June
If not for June,
My memories of Winter in December...
With a wish to witness,
The freshness of Spring March would bring...
Would not still remain so vivid.
As if only yesterday visited.
If not for June.
If not for June,
My eyesight would not be teased...
By the freedom felt in Summer,
With hopes that linger of those things I could do,
Under clear skies showing bright Sun.
And seeing the fun shared by nearly everyone,
If not for June.
And if not for June I would not be able to reminisce,
From so many experiences I could pick.
June seems to be the month I can do this.
With a thankfulness I am still in the midst,
Of a year that appears to have just begun.
With so much left to offer before it is done.
And for me this happens only when June comes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Day John Kennedy Died
I dreamed I was the president of these united states
I dreamed I replaced ignorance, stupidity and hate
I dreamed the perfect union and a perfect law, undenied
And most of all I dreamed I forgot the day john kennedy died
I dreamed that I could do the job that others hadnt done
I dreamed that I was uncorrupt and fair to everyone
I dreamed I wasnt gross or base, a criminal on the take
And most of all I dreamed I forgot the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
I remember where I was that day, I was upstate in a bar
The team from the university was playing football on tv
Then the screen want dead and the announcer said,
Theres been a tragedy
Theres are unconfirmed reports the presidents been shot
And he may be dead or dying.
Talking stopped, someone shouted, what!?
I ran out to the street
People were gathered everywhere saying,
Did you hear what they said on tv
And then a guy in a porsche with his radio hit his born
And told us the news
He said, the presidents dead, he was shot twice in the head
In dallas, and they dont know by whom.
I dreamed I was the president of these united states
I dreamed I was young and smart and it was not a waste
I dreamed that there was a point to life and to the human race
I dreamed that I could somehow comprehend that someone
Shot him in the face
Oh, the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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WHAT IS IT, RICHARD WIDMARK...by Talile Ali
ALWAYS ON THE EDGE
NEVER ON THE FENCE
NEEDS TO BE EXPENSIVE
GOT A GOOD DEFENSE
CROSS AND CLEARLY OUT-SPOKEN
THOUGHTS YOU CAN SEE AND HEAR
TO HELL WITH AMBIGUITY
IT'S THE NOW IN HIM THAT'S CLEAR
WHAT IS IT, RICHARD WIDMARK
YOU GAVE US ALL YOU HAD
YOUR TALENT ON THE BIG SCREEN
FROM RATIONAL TO MAD
FROM LUNATICS TO HERO'S
WE ALWAYS DID BELIEVE
PERFORMANCES WERE SOLID
AND SOMETIMES ON THE SLEEVE
MASTER OF FILM NOIR
CAPTAIN OF SUSPENSE
HE'LL ME YOU BELIEVE HIM
AT YOUR OWN EXPENSE
WHAT IS IT, RICHARD WIDMARK
YOU GAVE US ALL YOU HAD
YOUR TALENT ON THE BIG SCREEN
FROM MISERABLE TO GLAD
SO I WRITE THIS SONG
TO CELEBRATE WHAT MADE YOU
THE TALENT THAT YOU WERE
YOUR IMAGES ALL WERE NEW
JAM
WHAT IS IT, RICHARD WIDMARK
YOU GAVE US ALL YOU HAD
YOUR TALENT ON THE BIG SCREEN
YOU MADE THE GOOD SEEM BAD
FADE
poem by Talile Ali
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If everything isn't black and white, I say, 'Why the hell not?'
quote by John Wayne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Immortals Of The Silver Screen - Laurel and Hardy
This the beginning of a series
in which I’ll pay tribute to
some of my silver screen heroes.
First in the series just has to be
the best and the most loved
comedy duo who ever lived.
They have filled our world with laughter
while they were alive,
and are still doing it now
after they are long gone.
They were stars in their own right,
but together they soared to new heights.
They inspired a generation of comedians then
and they are inspiring generations now.
Two very talented men,
one from England - Stan Laurel.
One from America - Oliver Hardy.
Although their credits
do not always appear on their films,
they were a lot more than mere actors.
They wrote, directed and produced
hundreds and hundreds of films.
They first met as actor and director.
As Stan directed many of Oliver’s early films.
It was Mack Sennett who really set the world alight
when he put them together under the camera and spotlight.
He didn’t realise what he had done when he put together a team
who became friends, best friends
until death took both of them away.
This is just a small tribute from one of the millions
who have derived pleasure
from these two immortals
whose laughter will live on forever.
26 December 2007
poem by David Harris
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Born Without A Silver Spoon
I was born without a silver spoon.
On a raining day in the month of june.
We lived in a face me and face you,
it was a crowded neighbourhood.
Born without a silver spoon.
To have a three square meal
is like wishing for the moon.
Many times we bed the night,
cold night without food.
Without a silver spoon.
My father struggled me through school.
Primary, secondary and university
education i made it through.
A silver spoon.
My wish which must come true.
For i dream of it everday.
Think about those moves i'll make.
Praying to God for steps to take.
Though i was born without
silver spoon.
Yet if heaven be true,
my family's pain will not be vain.
I was born without a silver spoon
shall be erased.
To my generations it shall be a tale.
And only a silver spoon shall remain.
poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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From a Window
Up here, with June, the sycamore throws
Across the window a whispering screen;
I shall miss the sycamore more I suppose,
Than anything else on this earth that is out in green.
But I mean to go through the door without fear,
Not caring much what happens here
When I’m away: --
How green the screen is across the panes
Or who goes laughing along the lanes
With my old lover all the summer day.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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