We know how a rubber ball bounces
Ones life should react to constant arousals
There's no steady path
Must avoid life's wrath
No time to sit around in coffeehouses
Categories:
coffeehouses, remember,
Form: Limerick
Head bent
His eyes firmly fixed on the ground
Guitar in hand
There he goes
Trying to keep the biting winter’s wind
From nipping at his nose
Baby faced with a bouncing gait
Bob Dylan is walking the streets
Of Greenwich Village
It’s sometime in the late 1960’s
Now, I’m not saying that I’m old
But I remember those times
And when I close my eyes
It was just the other day
That the Village
Was a mystical portal
Of finger pickin’
Music and words that kept you thinkin’
Moonlit nights with lots of coffee drinkin’
And smiles of friends who are no longer singin’
‘cause they’ve gone far, far away
But these days
I can still hear their harmonies walking
Down the streets of Greenwich Village
Past the old Coffeehouses
That no longer have a name
Except for the ones we remember
And on those cold winter nights
When the wind blows chilly to the morning
I can hear
The clickety-clack
Of Bob Dylan’s boots
Walking around the 1960 streets
Of the Greenwich Village I once knew
-----------------------------------------------
While I was writing this
A funny thought occurred to me
… it was this…
Who remembers?
Why Pepperidge Farms remembers
That’s who!
Categories:
coffeehouses, life,
Form: Prose Poetry