It has been nearly a year since I visited Graceland. But the impact it made on me hasn't left.
pillars guarding the entrance
as it looks down upon a busy avenue
moving like a colony of ants
working hard to provide for the long haul
Bus after bus enter the parking lot
across the thoroughfare
along with a stream of eager cars
People exit in droves
excitement on their faces
as they navigate the separation
between them and the Manor
which draws them with its
bitter-sweet allure
Outside the main house
buildings of whim and fancy
contain treasures and tales
A garage of vintage autos
displayed in the light of their hey-day,
reflect the need for significance
in their status of luxury,
and the need for proof
of success, in their color
Inside the Colonial Mansion
(bought for a beloved mother)
the dychotomous essence of a legend lingers
Subtlety dismissed with diminutive proportions,
rooms announce their existence
with color, carpet and content
This was a Big Life dwelling,
A life of people, play and power
But the corners whisper for peace
The Legend long gone,
sought solace in these rooms
filled with the noise of discontent
Everywhere, pieces of the man
speak to onlookers with pleading
for the heart of the man to be known
But the decor silenced the decorum
and The Legend's gentle spirit
and shyness, are traits for the corners
The physical beauty of The Legend
and the gift of his voice
permeate the walls and air
Music, the love of it
and need for it
overcomes all else in the house
to saturate listening ears
with golden notes, tender tones
the raw soul of the master's voice
Gold records and movie posters
testify to his success
Popularity was defined by him
And the face of Graceland
the soulful eyes, sculpted nose and cherub lips
watches from every wall
as love and appreciation, all he sought in life
moves throughout the home
in people of every age
The Southern Boy's star
shot high and fast
beyond his wisdom and innocence
How many knew then or realize now
that when life grew beyond his comfort
The King of Rock and Roll
bowed to the King of Kings?
An adored mother taught him,
a child of hardship and lonliness,
that God should be his guide
His music was born in the church
and that music never left his heart.
When his Big Life conflicted
with the messages of those songs
a battle for his soul played out
pitting spirit against spectacle
The piano, a quartet and gospel
were a balm to his troubled spirit
and as he sang, his voice was at his purest
The legend, the King of music
this handsome, powerful star
was a barefoot Mississippi boy
conflicted in mind and body
trying to live a contradiction
and it defeated him so cruelly in time
But the heart of the man
the soul of the young Southern Boy
will live eternally in Graceland
Poetry by Phyllis J. Rhodes
Read 562 times
Written on 2010-02-02 at 02:11
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Graceland
Graceland stands on its lawnspillars guarding the entrance
as it looks down upon a busy avenue
moving like a colony of ants
working hard to provide for the long haul
Bus after bus enter the parking lot
across the thoroughfare
along with a stream of eager cars
People exit in droves
excitement on their faces
as they navigate the separation
between them and the Manor
which draws them with its
bitter-sweet allure
Outside the main house
buildings of whim and fancy
contain treasures and tales
A garage of vintage autos
displayed in the light of their hey-day,
reflect the need for significance
in their status of luxury,
and the need for proof
of success, in their color
Inside the Colonial Mansion
(bought for a beloved mother)
the dychotomous essence of a legend lingers
Subtlety dismissed with diminutive proportions,
rooms announce their existence
with color, carpet and content
This was a Big Life dwelling,
A life of people, play and power
But the corners whisper for peace
The Legend long gone,
sought solace in these rooms
filled with the noise of discontent
Everywhere, pieces of the man
speak to onlookers with pleading
for the heart of the man to be known
But the decor silenced the decorum
and The Legend's gentle spirit
and shyness, are traits for the corners
The physical beauty of The Legend
and the gift of his voice
permeate the walls and air
Music, the love of it
and need for it
overcomes all else in the house
to saturate listening ears
with golden notes, tender tones
the raw soul of the master's voice
Gold records and movie posters
testify to his success
Popularity was defined by him
And the face of Graceland
the soulful eyes, sculpted nose and cherub lips
watches from every wall
as love and appreciation, all he sought in life
moves throughout the home
in people of every age
The Southern Boy's star
shot high and fast
beyond his wisdom and innocence
How many knew then or realize now
that when life grew beyond his comfort
The King of Rock and Roll
bowed to the King of Kings?
An adored mother taught him,
a child of hardship and lonliness,
that God should be his guide
His music was born in the church
and that music never left his heart.
When his Big Life conflicted
with the messages of those songs
a battle for his soul played out
pitting spirit against spectacle
The piano, a quartet and gospel
were a balm to his troubled spirit
and as he sang, his voice was at his purest
The legend, the King of music
this handsome, powerful star
was a barefoot Mississippi boy
conflicted in mind and body
trying to live a contradiction
and it defeated him so cruelly in time
But the heart of the man
the soul of the young Southern Boy
will live eternally in Graceland
Poetry by Phyllis J. Rhodes
Read 562 times
Written on 2010-02-02 at 02:11
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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