I had heard of his music
\nBut wasn’t a fan
\nEnchanting as it was
\nA Poet, can
\nTune in to his wisdom
\nAnd his sanctity
\nAnd have an affection
\nFor his melody<\/p>\n
He was true to himself
\nWith thoughts of his own
\nIn his own world he lived
\nAnd was not really known
\nA benevolent character
\nDecent and whole
\nUpright and honest
\nAn incorruptible soul<\/p>\n
He was artless and straight
\nRegarded and well
\nHe lived in his music
\nHis stories did tell
\nMuch about life and
\nEternal ways
\nAn angel for some
\nWorthy of praise<\/p>\n
Dignified really
\nCompatible to
\nThe crochets and quavers
\nThe melody true
\nA flourish of satin
\nA blushing attire
\nA brilliance in many ways
\nAnd a sweet fire<\/p>\n
That burned in his heart
\nSo mindful was he
\nHis music soared upwards
\nAnd burst thankfully
\nInto oblivion with spirit and soul
\nWith a noble regard
\nFor the ancestral role<\/p>\n
He had fame and fortune
\nBut remained on his own
\nIn the kingdom created
\nUpon his own throne
\nWide eyed and awe struck
\nEach magic refrain
\nBecame his endurance
\nHis purple rain<\/p>\n
Fearing the outside world
\nHumbled he stood
\nIn the glare of the spotlight
\nJust because he could
\nHis affection for life
\nHis vanity fair
\nHis beautification
\nSo obviously there<\/p>\n
He cried in his sleep
\nOften asked himself why
\nSo many friends were
\nAbout to die
\nThe pathos of living
\nThe dreams of his past
\nAn affront to his soul urge
\nApparently cast<\/p>\n
A passionate tone
\nA sensitive mind
\nIntense and eager
\nTo just try and find
\nThe meaning of so much
\nAffecting his soul
\nThe people he cared for
\nHis every role<\/p>\n
In the scores he created
\nHe lived every bar
\nHe shone in the light
\nHe was so much a star
\nResigned to the passion
\nRestrained in his way
\nTo imagine so much
\nAt the end of each day<\/p>\n
His bohemian outlook
\nAnd determination
\nTo conquer so much
\nIt was his celebration
\nWhen he played his guitar
\nHe a master of sound
\nA dynamic dictator
\nTo all things around<\/p>\n
Conscripted to dream
\nTo write and compose
\nHis vigour was bigger
\nAlways on his toes
\nHe abandoned normality
\nHe truly felt
\nThe great obligation
\nAnd so he knelt<\/p>\n
And delivered his parables
\nQuietly and gave
\nDue refuge and spirit
\nWithin he would save
\nWriting his music
\nThe jamming and the rave
\nThe major the minor
\nEvery song rang
\nTo the chords from his heart
\nTo the beat and the twang<\/p>\n
And he enjoyed the silence
\nThe stillness the hush
\nQuiescent and noiseless
\nThe softness so lush
\nHis taste in the best
\nHis test was of time
\nA prince among men
\nWho had enjoyed the climb<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I had heard of his music But wasn’t a fan Enchanting as it was A Poet, can Tune in to his wisdom And his sanctity And have an affection For his melody He was true to himself With thoughts of … Continue reading