February 29, 2020
Ballad of a Rolling Stone
Once upon a time there was a boy who rhymed

a ballad of dislike for a friend who had a fight

and was far from home and all alone

He hurled jeers her way, he called her names,

that trapped her in a terrible fright

on the streets at night

with no place to call home

Once she was rich and he was poor

so he let her down, then stomped on her

and threw off the shirt that smelled of her perfume

and left the room

he needed some fresh air

What did he care? he said.

But then she could not think

she acted in despair

and died without a sound.

Now she won’t follow me around, he said,

and went ahead to find another girl

to follow him down

the rabbit hole.

And so he went from town to town,

never satisfied with anyone

Then the word went forth —

hey catch this dude — he’s kinda cute but awful rude

there’s somethin sad in his inside,

a spark of kindness dried up and died.

But he launched forth through night and rain

to keep his youth — like Dorian Grey

and let the women take his pain

no need to explain

Besides, those girls, they flocked to him

his flashing eyes and impish grin

he could always pick and choose

which one to use.

Year after year and town after town

til there weren’t quite so many girls around

he flashed his eyes and crinkled his grin

someone would be taken in

Until the day he stopped to rest

near the side of the road where they first met

as he was hitching a ride into town

The wind blew softly across his face

his heart began to race

seeing for a moment the color of her hair

She was just a child, he said

when she was stuck in fear, in dread

I could have just held her instead

so much was left unsaid

It’s not her fault

I could not see

that she was just too much like me

He laughed, he cried

he found her grave

He loved again

and all his youth was then restored

by both the women he adored…

On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 8:37:07 AM UTC-6, Pamela Brown wrote:
> February 29, 2020
> Ballad of a Rolling Stone
> Once upon a time there was a boy who rhymed
>
> a ballad of dislike for a friend who had a fight
>
> and was far from home and all alone
>
> He hurled jeers her way, he called her names,
>
> that trapped her in a terrible fright
>
> on the streets at night
>
> with no place to call home
>
> Once she was rich and he was poor
>
> so he let her down, then stomped on her
>
> and threw off the shirt that smelled of her perfume
>
> and left the room
>
> he needed some fresh air
>
> What did he care? he said.
>
> But then she could not think
>
> she acted in despair
>
> and died without a sound.
>
> Now she won’t follow me around, he said,
>
> and went ahead to find another girl
>
> to follow him down
>
> the rabbit hole.
>
> And so he went from town to town,
>
> never satisfied with anyone
>
> Then the word went forth —
>
> hey catch this dude — he’s kinda cute but awful rude
>
> there’s somethin sad in his inside,
>
> a spark of kindness dried up and died.
>
> But he launched forth through night and rain
>
> to keep his youth — like Dorian Grey
>
> and let the women take his pain
>
> no need to explain
>
> Besides, those girls, they flocked to him
>
> his flashing eyes and impish grin
>
> he could always pick and choose
>
> which one to use.
>
> Year after year and town after town
>
> til there weren’t quite so many girls around
>
> he flashed his eyes and crinkled his grin
>
> someone would be taken in
>
> Until the day he stopped to rest
>
> near the side of the road where they first met
>
> as he was hitching a ride into town
>
> The wind blew softly across his face
>
> his heart began to race
>
> seeing for a moment the color of her hair
>
> She was just a child, he said
>
> when she was stuck in fear, in dread
>
> I could have just held her instead
>
> so much was left unsaid
>
> It’s not her fault
>
> I could not see
>
> that she was just too much like me
>
> He laughed, he cried
>
> he found her grave
>
> He loved again
>
> and all his youth was then restored
>
> by both the women he adored…

dylagence.wordpress.com

On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 8:37:07 AM UTC-6, Pamela Brown wrote:
>
> > February 29, 2020
> > Ballad of a Rolling Stone
> > Once upon a time there was a boy who rhymed
> >
> > a ballad of dislike for a friend who had a fight
> >
> > and was far from home and all alone
> >
> > He hurled jeers her way, he called her names,
> >
> > that trapped her in a terrible fright
> >
> > on the streets at night
> >
> > with no place to call home
> >
> > Once she was rich and he was poor
> >
> > so he let her down, then stomped on her
> >
> > and threw off the shirt that smelled of her perfume
> >
> > and left the room
> >
> > he needed some fresh air
> >
> > What did he care? he said.
> >
> > But then she could not think
> >
> > she acted in despair
> >
> > and died without a sound.
> >
> > Now she won’t follow me around, he said,
> >
> > and went ahead to find another girl
> >
> > to follow him down
> >
> > the rabbit hole.
> >
> > And so he went from town to town,
> >
> > never satisfied with anyone
> >
> > Then the word went forth —
> >
> > hey catch this dude — he’s kinda cute but awful rude
> >
> > there’s somethin sad in his inside,
> >
> > a spark of kindness dried up and died.
> >
> > But he launched forth through night and rain
> >
> > to keep his youth — like Dorian Grey
> >
> > and let the women take his pain
> >
> > no need to explain
> >
> > Besides, those girls, they flocked to him
> >
> > his flashing eyes and impish grin
> >
> > he could always pick and choose
> >
> > which one to use.
> >
> > Year after year and town after town
> >
> > til there weren’t quite so many girls around
> >
> > he flashed his eyes and crinkled his grin
> >
> > someone would be taken in
> >
> > Until the day he stopped to rest
> >
> > near the side of the road where they first met
> >
> > as he was hitching a ride into town
> >
> > The wind blew softly across his face
> >
> > his heart began to race
> >
> > seeing for a moment the color of her hair
> >
> > She was just a child, he said
> >
> > when she was stuck in fear, in dread
> >
> > I could have just held her instead
> >
> > so much was left unsaid
> >
> > It’s not her fault
> >
> > I could not see
> >
> > that she was just too much like me
> >
> > He laughed, he cried
> >
> > he found her grave
> >
> > He loved again
> >
> > and all his youth was then restored
> >
> > by both the women he adored…
> dylagence.wordpress.com

Good morning, Pamela, fascinating poem, a lot to decode.

🙂

On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 8:46:51 AM UTC-6, opb...@yahoo.com wrote:
> On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 8:37:07 AM UTC-6, Pamela Brown wrote:
> >
> > > February 29, 2020
> > > Ballad of a Rolling Stone
> > > Once upon a time there was a boy who rhymed
> > >
> > > a ballad of dislike for a friend who had a fight
> > >
> > > and was far from home and all alone
> > >
> > > He hurled jeers her way, he called her names,
> > >
> > > that trapped her in a terrible fright
> > >
> > > on the streets at night
> > >
> > > with no place to call home
> > >
> > > Once she was rich and he was poor
> > >
> > > so he let her down, then stomped on her
> > >
> > > and threw off the shirt that smelled of her perfume
> > >
> > > and left the room
> > >
> > > he needed some fresh air
> > >
> > > What did he care? he said.
> > >
> > > But then she could not think
> > >
> > > she acted in despair
> > >
> > > and died without a sound.
> > >
> > > Now she won’t follow me around, he said,
> > >
> > > and went ahead to find another girl
> > >
> > > to follow him down
> > >
> > > the rabbit hole.
> > >
> > > And so he went from town to town,
> > >
> > > never satisfied with anyone
> > >
> > > Then the word went forth —
> > >
> > > hey catch this dude — he’s kinda cute but awful rude
> > >
> > > there’s somethin sad in his inside,
> > >
> > > a spark of kindness dried up and died.
> > >
> > > But he launched forth through night and rain
> > >
> > > to keep his youth — like Dorian Grey
> > >
> > > and let the women take his pain
> > >
> > > no need to explain
> > >
> > > Besides, those girls, they flocked to him
> > >
> > > his flashing eyes and impish grin
> > >
> > > he could always pick and choose
> > >
> > > which one to use.
> > >
> > > Year after year and town after town
> > >
> > > til there weren’t quite so many girls around
> > >
> > > he flashed his eyes and crinkled his grin
> > >
> > > someone would be taken in
> > >
> > > Until the day he stopped to rest
> > >
> > > near the side of the road where they first met
> > >
> > > as he was hitching a ride into town
> > >
> > > The wind blew softly across his face
> > >
> > > his heart began to race
> > >
> > > seeing for a moment the color of her hair
> > >
> > > She was just a child, he said
> > >
> > > when she was stuck in fear, in dread
> > >
> > > I could have just held her instead
> > >
> > > so much was left unsaid
> > >
> > > It’s not her fault
> > >
> > > I could not see
> > >
> > > that she was just too much like me
> > >
> > > He laughed, he cried
> > >
> > > he found her grave
> > >
> > > He loved again
> > >
> > > and all his youth was then restored
> > >
> > > by both the women he adored…
> > dylagence.wordpress.com
> Good morning, Pamela, fascinating poem, a lot to decode.
>
> 🙂
Thank you, Will...I think you know who I am talking about here...

On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 9:24:39 AM UTC-6, Pamela Brown wrote:
> On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 8:46:51 AM UTC-6, opb...@yahoo.com wrote:
> > On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 8:37:07 AM UTC-6, Pamela Brown wrote:
> > >
> > > > February 29, 2020
> > > > Ballad of a Rolling Stone
> > > > Once upon a time there was a boy who rhymed
> > > >
> > > > a ballad of dislike for a friend who had a fight
> > > >
> > > > and was far from home and all alone
> > > >
> > > > He hurled jeers her way, he called her names,
> > > >
> > > > that trapped her in a terrible fright
> > > >
> > > > on the streets at night
> > > >
> > > > with no place to call home
> > > >
> > > > Once she was rich and he was poor
> > > >
> > > > so he let her down, then stomped on her
> > > >
> > > > and threw off the shirt that smelled of her perfume
> > > >
> > > > and left the room
> > > >
> > > > he needed some fresh air
> > > >
> > > > What did he care? he said.
> > > >
> > > > But then she could not think
> > > >
> > > > she acted in despair
> > > >
> > > > and died without a sound.
> > > >
> > > > Now she won’t follow me around, he said,
> > > >
> > > > and went ahead to find another girl
> > > >
> > > > to follow him down
> > > >
> > > > the rabbit hole.
> > > >
> > > > And so he went from town to town,
> > > >
> > > > never satisfied with anyone
> > > >
> > > > Then the word went forth —
> > > >
> > > > hey catch this dude — he’s kinda cute but awful rude
> > > >
> > > > there’s somethin sad in his inside,
> > > >
> > > > a spark of kindness dried up and died.
> > > >
> > > > But he launched forth through night and rain
> > > >
> > > > to keep his youth — like Dorian Grey
> > > >
> > > > and let the women take his pain
> > > >
> > > > no need to explain
> > > >
> > > > Besides, those girls, they flocked to him
> > > >
> > > > his flashing eyes and impish grin
> > > >
> > > > he could always pick and choose
> > > >
> > > > which one to use.
> > > >
> > > > Year after year and town after town
> > > >
> > > > til there weren’t quite so many girls around
> > > >
> > > > he flashed his eyes and crinkled his grin
> > > >
> > > > someone would be taken in
> > > >
> > > > Until the day he stopped to rest
> > > >
> > > > near the side of the road where they first met
> > > >
> > > > as he was hitching a ride into town
> > > >
> > > > The wind blew softly across his face
> > > >
> > > > his heart began to race
> > > >
> > > > seeing for a moment the color of her hair
> > > >
> > > > She was just a child, he said
> > > >
> > > > when she was stuck in fear, in dread
> > > >
> > > > I could have just held her instead
> > > >
> > > > so much was left unsaid
> > > >
> > > > It’s not her fault
> > > >
> > > > I could not see
> > > >
> > > > that she was just too much like me
> > > >
> > > > He laughed, he cried
> > > >
> > > > he found her grave
> > > >
> > > > He loved again
> > > >
> > > > and all his youth was then restored
> > > >
> > > > by both the women he adored…
> > > dylagence.wordpress.com
> > Good morning, Pamela, fascinating poem, a lot to decode.
> >
> > 🙂
> Thank you, Will...I think you know who I am talking about here...
https://www.biography.com/personality/edie-sedgwick

On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 9:37:07 AM UTC-5, pamel...@gmail.com wrote:
>
> February 29, 2020
> Ballad of a Rolling Stone
> Once upon a time there was a boy who rhymed
>
> a ballad of dislike for a friend who had a fight
>
> and was far from home and all alone
>
> He hurled jeers her way, he called her names,
>
> that trapped her in a terrible fright
>
> on the streets at night
>
> with no place to call home
>
> Once she was rich and he was poor
>
> so he let her down, then stomped on her
>
> and threw off the shirt that smelled of her perfume
>
> and left the room
>
> he needed some fresh air
>
> What did he care? he said.
>
> But then she could not think
>
> she acted in despair
>
> and died without a sound.
>
> Now she won’t follow me around, he said,
>
> and went ahead to find another girl
>
> to follow him down
>
> the rabbit hole.
>
> And so he went from town to town,
>
> never satisfied with anyone
>
> Then the word went forth —
>
> hey catch this dude — he’s kinda cute but awful rude
>
> there’s somethin sad in his inside,
>
> a spark of kindness dried up and died.
>
> But he launched forth through night and rain
>
> to keep his youth — like Dorian Grey
>
> and let the women take his pain
>
> no need to explain
>
> Besides, those girls, they flocked to him
>
> his flashing eyes and impish grin
>
> he could always pick and choose
>
> which one to use.
>
> Year after year and town after town
>
> til there weren’t quite so many girls around
>
> he flashed his eyes and crinkled his grin
>
> someone would be taken in
>
> Until the day he stopped to rest
>
> near the side of the road where they first met
>
> as he was hitching a ride into town
>
> The wind blew softly across his face
>
> his heart began to race
>
> seeing for a moment the color of her hair
>
> She was just a child, he said
>
> when she was stuck in fear, in dread
>
> I could have just held her instead
>
> so much was left unsaid
>
> It’s not her fault
>
> I could not see
>
> that she was just too much like me
>
> He laughed, he cried
>
> he found her grave
>
> He loved again
>
> and all his youth was then restored
>
> by both the women he adored…

I like... great to see some new poetry and poets here...!

Pam, this is Zod, btw...

On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 4:25:07 PM UTC-6, tst...@gmail.com wrote:
> On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 9:37:07 AM UTC-5, pamel...@gmail.com wrote:
> >
> > February 29, 2020
> > Ballad of a Rolling Stone
> > Once upon a time there was a boy who rhymed
> >
> > a ballad of dislike for a friend who had a fight
> >
> > and was far from home and all alone
> >
> > He hurled jeers her way, he called her names,
> >
> > that trapped her in a terrible fright
> >
> > on the streets at night
> >
> > with no place to call home
> >
> > Once she was rich and he was poor
> >
> > so he let her down, then stomped on her
> >
> > and threw off the shirt that smelled of her perfume
> >
> > and left the room
> >
> > he needed some fresh air
> >
> > What did he care? he said.
> >
> > But then she could not think
> >
> > she acted in despair
> >
> > and died without a sound.
> >
> > Now she won’t follow me around, he said,
> >
> > and went ahead to find another girl
> >
> > to follow him down
> >
> > the rabbit hole.
> >
> > And so he went from town to town,
> >
> > never satisfied with anyone
> >
> > Then the word went forth —
> >
> > hey catch this dude — he’s kinda cute but awful rude
> >
> > there’s somethin sad in his inside,
> >
> > a spark of kindness dried up and died.
> >
> > But he launched forth through night and rain
> >
> > to keep his youth — like Dorian Grey
> >
> > and let the women take his pain
> >
> > no need to explain
> >
> > Besides, those girls, they flocked to him
> >
> > his flashing eyes and impish grin
> >
> > he could always pick and choose
> >
> > which one to use.
> >
> > Year after year and town after town
> >
> > til there weren’t quite so many girls around
> >
> > he flashed his eyes and crinkled his grin
> >
> > someone would be taken in
> >
> > Until the day he stopped to rest
> >
> > near the side of the road where they first met
> >
> > as he was hitching a ride into town
> >
> > The wind blew softly across his face
> >
> > his heart began to race
> >
> > seeing for a moment the color of her hair
> >
> > She was just a child, he said
> >
> > when she was stuck in fear, in dread
> >
> > I could have just held her instead
> >
> > so much was left unsaid
> >
> > It’s not her fault
> >
> > I could not see
> >
> > that she was just too much like me
> >
> > He laughed, he cried
> >
> > he found her grave
> >
> > He loved again
> >
> > and all his youth was then restored
> >
> > by both the women he adored…
> I like... great to see some new poetry and poets here...!
>
> Pam, this is Zod, btw...
Thank you so much...

On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 10:13:29 PM UTC-5, pamel...@gmail.com wrote:
> On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 4:25:07 PM UTC-6, tst...@gmail.com wrote:
> > On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 9:37:07 AM UTC-5, pamel...@gmail.com wrote:
> > >
> > > February 29, 2020
> > > Ballad of a Rolling Stone
> > > Once upon a time there was a boy who rhymed
> > >
> > > a ballad of dislike for a friend who had a fight
> > >
> > > and was far from home and all alone
> > >
> > > He hurled jeers her way, he called her names,
> > >
> > > that trapped her in a terrible fright
> > >
> > > on the streets at night
> > >
> > > with no place to call home
> > >
> > > Once she was rich and he was poor
> > >
> > > so he let her down, then stomped on her
> > >
> > > and threw off the shirt that smelled of her perfume
> > >
> > > and left the room
> > >
> > > he needed some fresh air
> > >
> > > What did he care? he said.
> > >
> > > But then she could not think
> > >
> > > she acted in despair
> > >
> > > and died without a sound.
> > >
> > > Now she won’t follow me around, he said,
> > >
> > > and went ahead to find another girl
> > >
> > > to follow him down
> > >
> > > the rabbit hole.
> > >
> > > And so he went from town to town,
> > >
> > > never satisfied with anyone
> > >
> > > Then the word went forth —
> > >
> > > hey catch this dude — he’s kinda cute but awful rude
> > >
> > > there’s somethin sad in his inside,
> > >
> > > a spark of kindness dried up and died.
> > >
> > > But he launched forth through night and rain
> > >
> > > to keep his youth — like Dorian Grey
> > >
> > > and let the women take his pain
> > >
> > > no need to explain
> > >
> > > Besides, those girls, they flocked to him
> > >
> > > his flashing eyes and impish grin
> > >
> > > he could always pick and choose
> > >
> > > which one to use.
> > >
> > > Year after year and town after town
> > >
> > > til there weren’t quite so many girls around
> > >
> > > he flashed his eyes and crinkled his grin
> > >
> > > someone would be taken in
> > >
> > > Until the day he stopped to rest
> > >
> > > near the side of the road where they first met
> > >
> > > as he was hitching a ride into town
> > >
> > > The wind blew softly across his face
> > >
> > > his heart began to race
> > >
> > > seeing for a moment the color of her hair
> > >
> > > She was just a child, he said
> > >
> > > when she was stuck in fear, in dread
> > >
> > > I could have just held her instead
> > >
> > > so much was left unsaid
> > >
> > > It’s not her fault
> > >
> > > I could not see
> > >
> > > that she was just too much like me
> > >
> > > He laughed, he cried
> > >
> > > he found her grave
> > >
> > > He loved again
> > >
> > > and all his youth was then restored
> > >
> > > by both the women he adored…
> > I like... great to see some new poetry and poets here...!
> >
> > Pam, this is Zod, btw...
> Thank you so much...

You are welcome (Zod here again I use different names to help stop the forgery).

On 2021-11-08, Pamela Brown <pamelajfk1@gmail.com> wrote:
>
> February 29, 2020
> Ballad of a Rolling Stone
> Once upon a time there was a boy who rhymed
>
> a ballad of dislike for a friend who had a fight
>
> and was far from home and all alone
>
> He hurled jeers her way, he called her names,
>
> that trapped her in a terrible fright
>
> on the streets at night
>
> with no place to call home
>
> Once she was rich and he was poor
>
> so he let her down, then stomped on her
>
> and threw off the shirt that smelled of her perfume
>
> and left the room
>
> he needed some fresh air
>
> What did he care? he said.
>
> But then she could not think
>
> she acted in despair
>
> and died without a sound.
>
> Now she won’t follow me around, he said,
>
> and went ahead to find another girl
>
> to follow him down
>
> the rabbit hole.
>
> And so he went from town to town,
>
> never satisfied with anyone
>
> Then the word went forth —
>
> hey catch this dude — he’s kinda cute but awful rude
>
> there’s somethin sad in his inside,
>
> a spark of kindness dried up and died.
>
> But he launched forth through night and rain
>
> to keep his youth — like Dorian Grey
>
> and let the women take his pain
>
> no need to explain
>
> Besides, those girls, they flocked to him
>
> his flashing eyes and impish grin
>
> he could always pick and choose
>
> which one to use.
>
> Year after year and town after town
>
> til there weren’t quite so many girls around
>
> he flashed his eyes and crinkled his grin
>
> someone would be taken in
>
> Until the day he stopped to rest
>
> near the side of the road where they first met
>
> as he was hitching a ride into town
>
> The wind blew softly across his face
>
> his heart began to race
>
> seeing for a moment the color of her hair
>
> She was just a child, he said
>
> when she was stuck in fear, in dread
>
> I could have just held her instead
>
> so much was left unsaid
>
> It’s not her fault
>
> I could not see
>
> that she was just too much like me
>
> He laughed, he cried
>
> he found her grave
>
> He loved again
>
> and all his youth was then restored
>
> by both the women he adored…

I liked that. A lot. :)

--

"Many have sought in vain to tell joyously of the Most Joyous. Now at last It
declares Itself to me, now in this misery." - Holderlin

On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 10:26:53 AM UTC-5, pamel...@gmail.com wrote:
> On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 9:24:39 AM UTC-6, Pamela Brown wrote:
> > On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 8:46:51 AM UTC-6, opb...@yahoo.com wrote:
> > > On Monday, November 8, 2021 at 8:37:07 AM UTC-6, Pamela Brown wrote:
> > > >
> > > > > February 29, 2020
> > > > > Ballad of a Rolling Stone
> > > > > Once upon a time there was a boy who rhymed
> > > > >
> > > > > a ballad of dislike for a friend who had a fight
> > > > >
> > > > > and was far from home and all alone
> > > > >
> > > > > He hurled jeers her way, he called her names,
> > > > >
> > > > > that trapped her in a terrible fright
> > > > >
> > > > > on the streets at night
> > > > >
> > > > > with no place to call home
> > > > >
> > > > > Once she was rich and he was poor
> > > > >
> > > > > so he let her down, then stomped on her
> > > > >
> > > > > and threw off the shirt that smelled of her perfume
> > > > >
> > > > > and left the room
> > > > >
> > > > > he needed some fresh air
> > > > >
> > > > > What did he care? he said.
> > > > >
> > > > > But then she could not think
> > > > >
> > > > > she acted in despair
> > > > >
> > > > > and died without a sound.
> > > > >
> > > > > Now she won’t follow me around, he said,
> > > > >
> > > > > and went ahead to find another girl
> > > > >
> > > > > to follow him down
> > > > >
> > > > > the rabbit hole.
> > > > >
> > > > > And so he went from town to town,
> > > > >
> > > > > never satisfied with anyone
> > > > >
> > > > > Then the word went forth —
> > > > >
> > > > > hey catch this dude — he’s kinda cute but awful rude
> > > > >
> > > > > there’s somethin sad in his inside,
> > > > >
> > > > > a spark of kindness dried up and died.
> > > > >
> > > > > But he launched forth through night and rain
> > > > >
> > > > > to keep his youth — like Dorian Grey
> > > > >
> > > > > and let the women take his pain
> > > > >
> > > > > no need to explain
> > > > >
> > > > > Besides, those girls, they flocked to him
> > > > >
> > > > > his flashing eyes and impish grin
> > > > >
> > > > > he could always pick and choose
> > > > >
> > > > > which one to use.
> > > > >
> > > > > Year after year and town after town
> > > > >
> > > > > til there weren’t quite so many girls around
> > > > >
> > > > > he flashed his eyes and crinkled his grin
> > > > >
> > > > > someone would be taken in
> > > > >
> > > > > Until the day he stopped to rest
> > > > >
> > > > > near the side of the road where they first met
> > > > >
> > > > > as he was hitching a ride into town
> > > > >
> > > > > The wind blew softly across his face
> > > > >
> > > > > his heart began to race
> > > > >
> > > > > seeing for a moment the color of her hair
> > > > >
> > > > > She was just a child, he said
> > > > >
> > > > > when she was stuck in fear, in dread
> > > > >
> > > > > I could have just held her instead
> > > > >
> > > > > so much was left unsaid
> > > > >
> > > > > It’s not her fault
> > > > >
> > > > > I could not see
> > > > >
> > > > > that she was just too much like me
> > > > >
> > > > > He laughed, he cried
> > > > >
> > > > > he found her grave
> > > > >
> > > > > He loved again
> > > > >
> > > > > and all his youth was then restored
> > > > >
> > > > > by both the women he adored…
> > > > dylagence.wordpress.com
> > > Good morning, Pamela, fascinating poem, a lot to decode.
>
>
> > Thank you, Will...I think you know who I am talking about here...
> https://www.biography.com/personality/edie-sedgwick

Yes, I was thinking of Edie Sedgwick, she of the leopard skin pillbox, fog, amphetamine and pearls.

The George Plimpton (I think) biography was a talisman of sorts many years ago.

On Wednesday, November 10, 2021 at 10:31:18 PM UTC-5, Rockinghorse Winner wrote:
> On 2021-11-08, Pamela Brown <pamel...@gmail.com> wrote:
> >
> > February 29, 2020
> > Ballad of a Rolling Stone
> > Once upon a time there was a boy who rhymed
> >
> > a ballad of dislike for a friend who had a fight
> >
> > and was far from home and all alone
> >
> > He hurled jeers her way, he called her names,
> >
> > that trapped her in a terrible fright
> >
> > on the streets at night
> >
> > with no place to call home
> >
> > Once she was rich and he was poor
> >
> > so he let her down, then stomped on her
> >
> > and threw off the shirt that smelled of her perfume
> >
> > and left the room
> >
> > he needed some fresh air
> >
> > What did he care? he said.
> >
> > But then she could not think
> >
> > she acted in despair
> >
> > and died without a sound.
> >
> > Now she won’t follow me around, he said,
> >
> > and went ahead to find another girl
> >
> > to follow him down
> >
> > the rabbit hole.
> >
> > And so he went from town to town,
> >
> > never satisfied with anyone
> >
> > Then the word went forth —
> >
> > hey catch this dude — he’s kinda cute but awful rude
> >
> > there’s somethin sad in his inside,
> >
> > a spark of kindness dried up and died.
> >
> > But he launched forth through night and rain
> >
> > to keep his youth — like Dorian Grey
> >
> > and let the women take his pain
> >
> > no need to explain
> >
> > Besides, those girls, they flocked to him
> >
> > his flashing eyes and impish grin
> >
> > he could always pick and choose
> >
> > which one to use.
> >
> > Year after year and town after town
> >
> > til there weren’t quite so many girls around
> >
> > he flashed his eyes and crinkled his grin
> >
> > someone would be taken in
> >
> > Until the day he stopped to rest
> >
> > near the side of the road where they first met
> >
> > as he was hitching a ride into town
> >
> > The wind blew softly across his face
> >
> > his heart began to race
> >
> > seeing for a moment the color of her hair
> >
> > She was just a child, he said
> >
> > when she was stuck in fear, in dread
> >
> > I could have just held her instead
> >
> > so much was left unsaid
> >
> > It’s not her fault
> >
> > I could not see
> >
> > that she was just too much like me
> >
> > He laughed, he cried
> >
> > he found her grave
> >
> > He loved again
> >
> > and all his youth was then restored
> >
> > by both the women he adored…
> I liked that. A lot. :)
>
> --
>
> "Many have sought in vain to tell joyously of the Most Joyous. Now at last It
> declares Itself to me, now in this misery." - Holderlin

Seconded.....