The smoke rolled in clouds
up, over and above the rows
of dark wood tables
They sat over their drinks
and some glowed with a hidden glow
with an un-understood knowledge.
They tried to put it into words
and failed miserably.
Each put his weaknesses on trial
and hid behind them.
Each frowned
behind the lines in his forehead.
The man with the guitar
got up on the stage
and tuned them in.
Blue lights flickered all about him.
They did not need to speak
or meet each other's eyes
rapt in the blanket of his guitar.
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(No subject)
Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: I rang a silent bell
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday!
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Keep your lamps trimmed and
Keep your lamps trimmed and burning. Happy Birthday!
Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: Roarshock
Happy Birthday Jorma!
Happy Birthday Jorma!
RAPT IN HIS GUITAR
to Jorma Kaukonen
The smoke rolled in clouds
up, over and above the rows
of dark wood tables
They sat over their drinks
and some glowed with a hidden glow
with an un-understood knowledge.
They tried to put it into words
and failed miserably.
Each put his weaknesses on trial
and hid behind them.
Each frowned
behind the lines in his forehead.
The man with the guitar
got up on the stage
and tuned them in.
Blue lights flickered all about him.
They did not need to speak
or meet each other's eyes
rapt in the blanket of his guitar.
~ D. A. "Roarshock" Wilson
February 15, 1980
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stud
stud
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HBD Jorma!
HBD Jorma!
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Lovely poem, Roarshock.
Lovely poem, Roarshock.
And yes. Happy Birthday, Jorma. What a guy.