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Share My Thoughts While Standing At Buddy Holly's Tomb-by- Matthew F. Blowers III
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My Thoughts While Standing At Buddy Holly's Tomb-by- Matthew F. Blowers III
Thoughts While Standing
At Buddy Holly's Tomb.
Only Buddy Holly's
dust rests here
with all his
youthful dreams
just some remnants
of the fifties
from a plane burst
at the seams.
Oh Lord, how that
aircraft tumbled
nose to tail,
and tail to nose,
how those boys
last prayer's were mumbled
then they screamed
at fate's cruel blows.
leaving broken bodies
scattered
all across the
once white snow,
east of nowhere long ago....
That plane's big bop
took seconds
then it took
Big Bopper too,
nothing valiant
would save Valens,
and Buddy's dreams
bid him adieu
Just like eighth notes
slashed across the riffs,
in frozen field of blues.
On that tragic day
the music died
when the world
forever was denied
what could have been,
great songs unwritten
such promise in
a blizzard smitten
time stole what still
can't be forgiven,
three stars who still
had so much living
all vanished when their
plane was stricken,
leaving flesh remains,
torn and frostbitten.
But what will truly
be their legacy,
lies in the songs
that musically
still have us
humming them daily,
when radio stations
dust off tracks
that hold the gold....
today's songs lack,
then sadly we'll
go drifting back
not to Buddy's tomb,
but to his tunes.
And somewhere deep
within his crypt,
what still remains
of youthful lips,
will bend for just
a little while,
in a long lost memory
of his smile
View all episodes
By Art~Whimsically YoursThoughts While Standing
At Buddy Holly's Tomb.
Only Buddy Holly's
dust rests here
with all his
youthful dreams
just some remnants
of the fifties
from a plane burst
at the seams.
Oh Lord, how that
aircraft tumbled
nose to tail,
and tail to nose,
how those boys
last prayer's were mumbled
then they screamed
at fate's cruel blows.
leaving broken bodies
scattered
all across the
once white snow,
east of nowhere long ago....
That plane's big bop
took seconds
then it took
Big Bopper too,
nothing valiant
would save Valens,
and Buddy's dreams
bid him adieu
Just like eighth notes
slashed across the riffs,
in frozen field of blues.
On that tragic day
the music died
when the world
forever was denied
what could have been,
great songs unwritten
such promise in
a blizzard smitten
time stole what still
can't be forgiven,
three stars who still
had so much living
all vanished when their
plane was stricken,
leaving flesh remains,
torn and frostbitten.
But what will truly
be their legacy,
lies in the songs
that musically
still have us
humming them daily,
when radio stations
dust off tracks
that hold the gold....
today's songs lack,
then sadly we'll
go drifting back
not to Buddy's tomb,
but to his tunes.
And somewhere deep
within his crypt,
what still remains
of youthful lips,
will bend for just
a little while,
in a long lost memory
of his smile