if we live and breathe words,
will we c?hoke on th?e questi?on marks
in-be?twee?n



?

this anonymous weaver spun written tapestry
to acknowledge ninetieth plus longevity year
no matter this author unknown, who deftly tries to weave
(for pete sakes) with english poetry
where rhyming threads fire away (from axons to neurons)
at warp speed way out there
attempting to coalesce into
semblance of comprehension from non other than me
a veritable stranger, who considers
ye huff hoke icon, that hoop fully destiny will spare

until one grain of sand takes thee
to eternal blue skies astride astral throne like king henry
with minstrelsy folks housed
the memories hermetically sealed place
thy father’s razed mansion no longer poised far and near
intent to discern adroit banjo finger
picking plucky talent admission for all – free,
whose eponymous trademark je nais sais quois
legendary voice rang like a bell jar in the air.

unsure if this epistle (possibly coming across
as mixed up) like mish mashed verse
ye might arrange and rearrange into a song
living in the country of upstate new york state
epitomizing spartan holistic existence somewhere
over the rainbow with hefty purse
exemplifying decades of fame and fortune
that odds on favorite moost did highly rate
your fount of endless lyrical musical natural playing style

auditory tunes ears did immerse
themselves from just one man’s hand
whether newlyweds who did marry a loving mate
or others exhaling final breath
afore crossing river jordan inside the hearse
while convoy chants favorite chorus abiyoyo
with standard amen for the late
mortal, whereby such preferential fanfare
for loss of precious friend family doth curse.

since thee became deceased no great expectations (by dickens)
feedback will be forth coming to this average joe
who chose to plunk himself down here
and simply let spontaneity take full rein
this spur of the moment ode
(perhaps difficult to comprehend),
oaf hello you will never know
and travel down shady lane

(more akin to boulevard of broken dreams) in the main
with elusive passion to live in tandem with nature
whereby garden this dad could ***
reaping from sweat of thine brow afterward
upon festival of flowers this body will be lain
but spouse prepared siesta meal,
hence now end this rambling poem to go,
ponder trials and tribulations whilst in need to feed body and brain.

NO MATTER YE PASSED AWAY, I ENJOYED
YOUR SATISFIED MUSICALLY INCLINED MIND
AND WISHED THE WEBBED WIDE WORLD FILLED
WITH MORE OF YOUR KIND.