FREEDOM

3 Comments

Poem Commentary

Please comment- this took me about 90 minutes to write and my orginal intent was to write something about drinking and drugging as a youth and then 'recovering' through 12 steps as a middle age mess- but as I pecked away at the keys the scope of the 60's loomed large and I just let the deity take me to a new place.

So please let me know what your thoughts are. Thanx

FREEDOM

The youthful days when the liquid flowed and the smoke clouds wafted,

The new ages were 'blottered' in living color when they were drafted.

The minds were all changing along with culture and tradition,

The youth spoke loudly and clearly, protested, and petitioned.

No cares in the world, defying a society as they boldly spoke out,

They spoke of love and freedom as they protested about-

The senseless killing in a land far away from their life here.
   
The contradictions they lived were not really clear,

So much haze was in their souls and health food they ate 

No rules, no clocks, no destiny, no boundaries, and no hate 

Did they change the world or did the world change their life?

No Cleavers or Ozzies, or families with a stay at home wife.

The journey they took with cobwebs spun through clouded mind,

But many years later at the end what do we find?

The youthful days of of oblivion, psychedelics, and living free

It seems they have come full circle ending where they ought to be.

Is there regret for the defiance and stance that was took?

As youth they were brave and bold and it was the world they shook.

The war in the Viet Nam rang loudly of freedom mostly for me and you,

 NOT only the freedom in the land across the oceans so blue.

Our freedom became alive in so many ways and in so many voices,

The crazed out youth opened the door for liberty of personal choices.

The real war was here in our backyards and streets, 

The photo of Kent State was so bittersweet.

The gunshots, the riots, the peaceful sit-ins all had a place,

The great men assasinated and the warriors maced.

Youthful days of as the liquid flowed and smoke clouds hung thick,

The loud voice of the gunshots as the blood spilled make us sick.

The generation that opened the doors for Kennedy and King,

They hadn't a clue, their defiance of society allowed freedom to ring.

So now I ponder did we come a full circle or did we

 Take a new path to end up where we should be?













  




Poem Comments

(3)

Please login or register

You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
leave comments/feedback and rate this poem.

Login or Register

Forestbird commented on FREEDOM

07-29-2009

I like it very much. I was not here in that time and we in Russia new very little about it. And it is so alive that it make me feel like I witnesed your 60th

Hanna

08/06/2009

how interesting to have ben in Russia during the 60s quite different perspective

mspoetris commented on FREEDOM

07-08-2009

I was there too. Definitely agree.We can never go back-we helped change thoughts,parenting,morals, and remember before-no one spoke to their children-hush-we don't speak of this or that. See how we had to blow up just to let it be known how crucial communication was-is. More like a spiral to me. I have no idea what " full circle" means.Not only did we get to evolve through a great,perilous journey-just see whats ahead At least we could protest! Now-government is enforcing the " Patriots " act.. Throughly liked this!

Hanna

07/08/2009

glad you enjoyed it- as the poem relates there really is no circle- evoling is s good word to describe where we ended up

StandingBear commented on FREEDOM

07-08-2009

A nicely written 60's era work pertaining to the revolution. "Tune in . turn on .. drop out" Wild days indeed when unarmed students were shot and killed by a paranoid system. Great write.

Hanna

07/08/2009

I guess you like what you read- I wish I could write them faster

When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

Hanna’s Poems (14)