04-10-2018, 11:00 AM
Farrokh Bulsara
Even dead, you still elude us.
Some would say you play piano for angels,
while others prefer to think you're just gone
like a flame exhausted in the night.
We can't even agree if you're under that cherry tree.
You seemed scared to be yourself in life and death,
so is it at Kensal Green that you rest?
Ashes scattered carefree among the wind,
fear finally burned away?
Or could your urn be locked in a closet,
covered in dust, but not forgotten,
your silence louder with each passing day?
Surrounded by old dresses,
camouflage you no longer need.
This is another good batch of poems here. Nicely done everyone.
Even dead, you still elude us.
Some would say you play piano for angels,
while others prefer to think you're just gone
like a flame exhausted in the night.
We can't even agree if you're under that cherry tree.
You seemed scared to be yourself in life and death,
so is it at Kensal Green that you rest?
Ashes scattered carefree among the wind,
fear finally burned away?
Or could your urn be locked in a closet,
covered in dust, but not forgotten,
your silence louder with each passing day?
Surrounded by old dresses,
camouflage you no longer need.
This is another good batch of poems here. Nicely done everyone.
Time is the best editor.