It rained last night at Paisley Park,
tears fell too when the lightning struck.
Your time cut short, too quickly plucked,
a Princely man whose life went dark.
You colored us purple in stark
relief of the grief we’re feeling–
colorless, bleak, muted keening.
You reigned supreme, a gentle soul
of brilliant talent, eyes of coal.
It rained last night at Paisley Park.
Join me at dVerse Poets as we learn the decima, a Latin American form.
Posted by Bodhirose on April 22, 2016
You were easy to vilify
with your detached and selfish ways
and your clenched jaw and eyes ablaze,
but your life was your own deny,
Dad. Years of pain were amplified
by you; no soft place was offered.
But my worth totally shattered
because you also had been hurt
by a man detached, cold and curt,
alone where no love was proffered.
Join me at dVerse Poets for Meeting the Bar, Thursday 3PM EST where we try a Latin American poetry form called the décima.
Posted by Bodhirose on April 20, 2016
Image by Bob.Fornal via FlickrI
I was so touched by your gesture;
do you know what it meant to me?
A few words said so sincerely,
leaving my heart so enraptured–
moments before my departure.
My soul soared with the meaning,
I felt joy for new beginnings.
A whole new journey before me,
now full with possibility,
all because of sweet murmurings.
Posted by Bodhirose on January 8, 2011