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Master
of his art, the guitar man. With
weeping guitar and chocolate smooth voice. Like
soap episodes the story ran. Son
of Liverpool, just ordinary boy. Catapulted
into fame, heard on Dansettes. Seen
on TV and covert halls and teenage magazines. Flung
into the world of fame with just a few regrets. One
of four who could do no wrong, Every
ballad or teenage love song. Went
to the top and stayed for so long Then
the four disbanded and said, “So long” On
his own he wrote his own songs Played
his own music, did his own thing. A
new career was his, on his own he flew high. Studying
so much in the circular ring Giving
his all to make food for other lands. Standing
there on the stage alone Or
with others making other bands. Myriad
tones and notes spit out Of
just one entity, one life. One
body can only do so much When
his body said “now eternal rest” So
many stood and remembered and sang. As
man of peace and love, one of the best. That
man touched our lives and gave us
more To
contemplate, to meditate, to emulate (or try) To
Create a peaceful world out of all this mess. And make this a beautiful place underneath the sky.
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