Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

               Quatrain on the Death of a Cow-Hippie Head-Banger

He was good. And I miss him. His funny hair
His high-intensity eyes, his love for life
The way his guitar was made a part of him
The heart of him, each chord a gift to God

~
Are we all the same distance apart?
Are we nocturnal
because we buy into
rhythmic disturbance,
trying to find a memory
in a dark room?

In shadow of advancing myth,
there's evidence of hunters
in the glowlight,
with wings outstretched,
solitary and contrite,
we cut the night,
we cut the night.

From sticks to bitterness,
we cut the night,
we cut the night.
~

Being unique, consequently the ultimate rarity,
each person has a view;
Some can only see themselves, tied and bound to frustration of almost all that they desire and do.
Some see way beyond themselves, desiring the very best for everyone,
dedicated to a higher love, sustained by their desire.

(4)
Warm Vanilla scent
Drifts from Christmas kitchen
Bringing back my youth

(5)
Seven and two fives
Parsed and added carefully
Just make seventeen

(6)
Rainy winter sky
Dripping down the windowpane
Paints a broken heart

(7)
Sleeping daffodils
Cozy in their buried bulbs
Wait for springtime sun