An old-fashioned sonority
My friend is dead.
I met him here
He was wise,
But he was not clear
About anything - afar or near.
For which I was grateful.
I try to hold him clear in mind -
on the random wildwind strain
where we hear old notes playing -
I maintain the glory of his voice, his name,
But I have a sick dread of a fading
Time, unmaintained by love or rhyme.
Devon Brock
Sat 3rd Aug 2019 01:00
Yes, yes, I understand. There is an artist who inspired and continues to inspire me to this day, the one who set me right. He is not dead, however, just long gone down the road. Funny thing, maybe some sorta crazy synchronicity, is that I was putting a poem together about him this morning, but I scrapped it. Glad you put this one up. Much better than what I had working.
D