Poems for a 250th birthday

The request from the organizers of the Long Branch Poetry Festival this year was to consider presenting “historical, patriotic, non-political” materials for the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. The assignment proved more challenging than I expected. Following are the two new poems I wrote for the Fourth of July event.

Land of hopes

 

Long Branch NJ to Long Beach CA,

What a big beautiful country this USA.

Woody Guthrie sang it many years ago, 

This land is your land this land is my land,

… this land was made for you and me.

 

On huge transporters many arrived,

To this great land with many opportunities,

A true melting pot full of hope and ambition,

And the promise of freedom for us all,

Whether tired or poor or fleeing persecution.

 

Parents wanting better for their children,

Sacrificing for them to receive the education

And the skills they need to attain success

And happiness that was proving too elusive 

In the land of their own birth and youth.

 

New Americans assimilating with the old,

While adding their own flavors and sounds 

To the mosaic of this still young land,

And continuing to expand and redefine

Just what is the culture of the USA today.

 

That’s the past and present at 250 years.

But what of the next hundred or so years

For the future generations of Americans?

Are the best of times in this land behind us,

Is now what they’ll say is the good ol’ days?

 

America can continue to build its strength,

Greeting people with dreams and ambitions 

Who value our democracy and economy 

And contribute to the hope of better days

As this wonderful land continues to evolve.

 

Copyright 2026, Charles A. Bruns

 

Stamps

 

Only one country in all of the world

Could transport information of all kinds

Through its beautiful lands north to south,

East to west and up mountains down valleys

With these colorful images as the fare of passage

Since January twentieth two thousand twenty five A.D.:

 

Crab nebula, the horse, galaxy pair, sunflowers, 

Angel’s trumpets, winter landscapes, lowriders.

Luna moth, bald eagle, SpongeBob SquarePants, schooner,

U. S. flag, baby wild animals, goodnight moon, star cluster.

 

Vibrant leaves, the Appalachian Trail, American bison, dahlias, 

1794 compass rose, spiral galaxy, Route 66, American vistas.

 

Harriet Powers, Betty White, Muhammad Ali, 

Jimmy Carter, Elie Wiesel, Phillis Wheatley,

Ben Franklin, Barbara Bush, William F. Buckley, 

Allen Toussaint, and Bruce Lee.

 

Happy birthday, holiday cheer, 250 years of delivering, 

Colorado statehood, day at the beach, freshwater fishing, 

U.S. Army 250th, U.S. Navy, Marine Corps, postcrossing.

 

Treasures of the revolutionary era, 

Battlefields of the American revolution.

Powwows, summer sunset, North American soccer,

Boston stamp show, International peace, love forever.

 

And today, the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence it is,

As depicted on the very latest stamp from the US Postal Service.

 

Copyright 2026, Charles A. Bruns

 

Newark, 9:30 p.m., Wednesday

Newark Penn Station was a grand part of New Jersey’s largest city in its day.
Now it’s just an other example of the city’s struggling attempt to recover from decay.

Where’s the fruit of the urban investments made in this metropolis that once thrived?

Where are the 23 degrees The Weather Channel claims are hovering outside?

It’s a Wednesday night in Newark in the dead of winter,
And seeing a Seton Hall basketball game at The Rock bring some hither.
But what about many of the others inside this God forsaken transit center?

A little girl in a pink jacket sings while sitting and playing on the much-trodden floor.
A young woman with pink hair frowns while strutting her black boots toward the door.

A big fellow with a black coat and white beard begs passersby for five dollars.
A man and a woman navigate their wheelchairs around the halls and holler.
An old guy in a hoodie sits on a wooden bench holding an iPhone and writing poetry.

Copyright 2025, Charles A. Bruns

Happy New Year

There's not supposed to be thunder and lightning in New Jersey

On this or any New Year’s Eve or ever in December.

Is that the Gods cursing the end of an unrighteous year? 

Or is it the latest warning that it’s not nice to fool Mother Nature? 

It can’t be ordinary thunder and lightning on a winter’s night. 

Nothing seems that simple anymore anyhow anyway. 

Was anything ever really what it appeared? 

What are those evident truths we remember? 

Maybe they were only a convenience for our minds, 

A rack for our thoughts to be held safely in place. 

I will be open-minded to new possibilities this year 

Because everything happens for a reason, 

Sometimes even for a good one or two. 

Maybe the Gods are indeed all-knowing and 

We mortals should just go along for the ride. 

Happy New Year!

Copyright 2025, Charles A. Bruns

22 Dream

 

The dreams by ‘72 were nestled in her head,

A few years after a family friend took them

For a magic carpet ride she would never forget.

“I want one, I’ll have one, someday, someway,” she said.

 

Eighty-two gave way to ‘92 and the love of a man,

Along with higher education and bills and a career,

And in due time a house, two children, and minivan,

Not merely one, not just two, but eventually three.

 

The new millennium dawned without mayhem,

And the little boys got big and left the nest.

The jobs came and went with the passing of years,

But not those dreams of the smiling little girl.

 

Life at the shore with boardwalk strolls and the beach,

Cruising along leisurely on bikes along Ocean Avenue,

Watching the river flow and all kinds of wheels,

Spinning north, south, east, west, on the roads.

 

The most magical of carpet rides emerges,

Complete with the world’s smallest bow tie.

“We can do this,” her mate declares one spring,

And begins reaching out on their computer and phone.

 

The waiting list stretches to seven months,

As the details of the dream become clearer,

Then a voice on the phone merrily announces,

“We’re ready to make your dream come true.”

 

Three months of winter later it’s a reality.

Her blue eyes stare at the long body in disbelief,

The mid-engine roars, the hard roof comes down,

And she smiles while finally driving away in her 22 Dream.

 

 

Copyright 2024, Charles A. Bruns

New Poems for the 2023 Long Branch Poetry Festival

Sea Changes

Things are not they what use to be,

It seems times are changing for the worse,

Lamented the blonde who looked too young

To be toiling 40 years at the family pharmacy 

That would be closing in just a few days.

 

Sometimes they change for the worse,

And other times they change for the better,

Offered the sad customer who has seen many changes

In over 60 years of living in old and new  neighborhoods,

To the very small comfort of the worker losing her job.

 

The home of original music closed its doors

But hope remained the new owner would reopen it

A better place with more music, drinks, and food.

But little more than a year later it was bulldozed to the ground,

Keeping everyone guessing what will be there next.

 

Maybe it will meet the same fate as the cool cafe

That was frequented at night by kids both young and old

Who downed their Dutch coffee and grilled cheese sandwiches.

So much in fact they tired the owner right out of business,

Giving way to plans for more new homes and businesses.

 

I see many of the changes in our neighborhood.

I sense the loss people feel around our world.

Why oh why fear change while also wanting things better?

The sea to our east changes every day after all,

But to it we always flock to relax and recharge.

Meeting Up at the Jersey Shore

 

I first saw you when the packed train left the station.

I watched you with your friends during the hour we traveled to the shore,

And pretended not to while talking to my buddies and trying to act cool.

When the doors opened, my legs caught up to yours and our eyes met.

 

I started talking to you and almost forgot about my friends,

And your bright smile lit up your face as we chatted with each other 

Among the throng that moved quickly and loudly toward the beach.

I whiffed the weed and saw the bottles but only cared about you that moment.

 

And the moment was soon lost as chaos broke out in the village by the sea.

There was pushing and shoving and yelling and then fights and blood.

There was drinking and smoking and then broken glass and debris on the street.

There was dancing and twerking on the boardwalk and then stomping atop cars.

 

And then just like that you were apart from me, out of sight.

I headed back to the train station and looked but could not find you.

I searched the packed platform hoping to see you again

And desperately moved from one car to the next on the train home to no avail.

 

I remember your name but never found out where you lived,

Or what you were doing during the rest of the summer,

Nor what your plans were for autumn or the rest of your life.

But I hope the two of us meet up again at the Jersey Shore.

 

 

©Copyright 2023, Charles A.  Bruns

 

The Jersey Shore's First Luxury Condominium: A Hard-to-Believe History of Harbour Mansion

I'm pleased to announce my new book, The Jersey Shore's First Luxury Condominium, a Hard-to-Believe History of Harbour Mansion, is available at no cost on Apple Books!

This ebook is an 11-part history of the nine-story, 115-unit building located on Ocean Avenue in the West End section of Long Branch. Based on the blog series I published during 2016-17 and my presentation at the Long Branch Free Public Library, this book traces the origins of the oceanfront property, the construction of the building during 1967-68, its conversion from apartments to condo units in the mid-1970s, and the changes in the building and its neighborhood over the years. It identifies many of the famous and infamous people who have shaped its colorful history well into the 21st century, and includes fascinating photos and newspaper excerpts from its storied past.

Get the ebook for free on Apple Books at:

https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-jersey-shores-first-luxury-condominium/id6448854580?ls=1

In case you are unable to access the free ebook on Apple Books, a downloadable and printable PDF file of the book is available from the Long Branch Free Public Library website's local history page or via the following link:

https://www.longbranchlib.org/_files/ugd/b3b8ff_ac68893862dd45d4959bb2571ba1403e.pdf?fbclid=IwAR2eHXKxh7UecV2J9bK4IedYiXRdZ2fzSMoD5g9giUCj50CKdpBzyoiCWw0

City of Champions, by Hank Gola

You don't write a book like City of Champions simply because you're an experienced sportswriter who majored in history at college and now have some time on your hands. You write such a great book because you have a passion for the subject and you're on a mission to share it like no one else can. And, that's exactly what Hank Gola did in his very well written and thoroughly researched book about the 1939 Garfield High School football team and the events leading up to their national championship game in Miami that Christmas Day. 

Hank has been promoting his book in New Jersey and Florida and parts in between this winter. His schedule included a presentation at the Morristown and Morris Township library in Morristown, NJ this afternoon during which he shared stories from his book and displayed some very well-preserved varsity sportswear from 1939 (above). I was happy to see my former Herald-News colleague for the first time in nearly 40 years there. A friend of mine and, like Hank, a fellow Garfield H.S. graduate, Roy Pelcher, was also glad to be there and learn more about the legendary football team and their hometown's history.

In my review of City of Champions on Amazon earlier this winter, I wrote, "If it were possible to give City of Champions six stars, I would. If you are a sports fan and history buff interested in reading about a high school football team from a working class town that went undefeated and laid claim to the national championship, you might, too. (And if you're not, you might just give it five stars.)

"Hank Gola's research of the people and events leading up to Garfield High School's Christmas Day 1939 title game in the newly-built Orange Bowl is as comprehensive as that of any history book I've read. His writing skills make the personalities involved in the big game jump out of the book's pages. As you might expect from a distinguished journalist, Hank's descriptions of the teams' suburban New Jersey and Miami hometowns and life during the Great Depression, before World War II, is fascinating. I almost felt like I was reading a movie script. The people were real, however, as were the forces that brought them together and then apart.

"A story like the one chronicled in City of Champions could never happen again. Too much has changed in the United States and scholastic sports during the past 80 years. Thankfully, Hank Gola made it a labor of love to capture it like it happened with his thorough research and strong writing so we can all enjoy reading it."

Among my favorite parts of the book were the references to Garfield's fierce rivalry with my alma mater, Bloomfield High School. From Hank's book I learned just how powerful and important to the community those Bengals teams coached by Bill Foley were during the 1930s.

Thank you and congratulations, Hank, for authoring such a great book! 

Below: Hank Gola flanked by fellow Garfield H.S. graduate, Roy Pelcher (left) and former Herald-News colleague, Charley Bruns (right)

The Brighton Bar, the Movie Screening

You know what to expect

but never sure what you’ll get

when you walk inside the Brighton Bar.

And thus it was with the Brighton Bar movie screening.

“If you have a black ticket, you can come inside,”

said the lady from the historical association.

“Tickets? I didn’t know we needed tickets,”

responded the dozens waiting outside the screening room.

“If you want to see the second screening, take a green ticket,”

explained the lady from the historical association.

“Go to the Brighton Bar and have a drink while you wait.”

And around the corner walked some of the huddled masses.

But, the Brighton Bar was closed — its staff and patrons

had gone around the corner to see the documentary movie.

So back out in the cold walked the huddled masses 

to wait for the second screening of the movie.

“Shhhhh,” beckoned the lady from the historical association

as the huddled masses buzzed in anticipation outside the screening room.

But they didn’t need to stay quiet for long,

for a technical difficulty had delayed the first showing.

After an hour, the patrons from the first screening emerged

smiling, chatting, seemingly relieved at the experience.

And in marched the green ticket holders, smiling, chatting,

in anticipation of being entertained by the Brighton Bar movie.

The co-host from the library welcomed the patrons 

and invited them to enjoy soda and popcorn.

Then the lights dimmed, and the movie came alive

to the cheers of the second screening crowd.

The moviegoers roared as familiar faces appeared on the screen.

They cheered as footage from years gone by rekindled memories.

They booed when the video reminded them of unwelcome changes

and applauded when it all ended.

They filed out with smiles across their aging faces.

Some repaired to nearby watering holes,

others simply drove home.

But one walked around the corner to the Brighton Bar.

“Hi, I just saw the documentary and realized

I never bought one of your t-shirts,” he said,

pointing to the display of items for sale behind the bar.

“Do you have a men’s size medium?”

A moment passed as the bartender spoke to the owner.

“Actually, we’re out of them and don’t know 

when we’ll be getting some more,” he told the man.

“What do you want to drink?”

The man waved him off and walked out to head home.

You know what to expect

but never sure what you’ll get

when you walk inside the Brighton Bar.

Copyright 2018, Charles A. Bruns