Long Live The King

I wrote this on August 16, 1977 – the day Elvis died.  Don't know what inspired me to write it; I wasn't a huge Elvis fan or anything.  Guess it was a slow day at work and the spirit just moved me.  But for some reason it's still in my head after all these years.  So it seems appropriate to write it down on the 35th anniversary of his death.

IN MEMORY OF ELVIS
Copyright 2011 by Roger B. Stone

For Elvis the Pelvis we all deeply mourn.

Without him, Rock’n’Roll might never've been born.

Way back in the ‘50s the whole world was ready,

To hear him sing Hound Dog, and Tender, and Teddy.

We miss him already though he’s just barely gone.

We cherish the memory of his hips and his song.

We’d all love to tell him, “Dear Elvis you’re great!”

But for Elvis the Pelvis, I’m afraid it’s too late.

He passed away August the 16^th, they say.

His feet move no more; his guitar’s put away.

It’s tragic to think of The King in the ground,

When they cover him up so he can’t make a sound.

No songs can be heard from our hero’s sweet lips,

No motion is seen in his legs and his hips,

"Oh Elvis, dear Elvis, won’t you please make us cry?"

No, Elvis the Pelvis is singin’ in the sky.

Gone Coco-nuts

One year my parents took a vacation to Hawaii with my Aunt Millie and Uncle Leigh.  They had a such a great time that they didn't want to come back.  After hearing their stories, I wrote this poem for Mother's Day.

A MOTHER'S DAY FANTASY
Copyright 2011 by Roger B. Stone

It was lo these many years ago, in May of ninety-seven,

On a sojourn for a fortnight to a little piece of heaven,

That our mystery begins where the Pacific currents churn,

For Bob and Pat went off that day and never did return.

Perhaps their ship's been wrecked on an atoll in Polynesia,

Or some coconuts have bonked them causing mutual amnesia,

Or the sun has baked their brains and made them both non-compos-mental.

For what else could cause the Stones to give up all things continental?

One eye-witness said she saw them on the beach and acting silly,

Drinking something from a conch shell with some folks named Leigh and Millie.

And another said he spied them lying naked on the sand.

They had big smiles on their faces and they looked relaxed and tanned.

But they never did resurface and their trail has now grown cold.

The investigators did their best; (or so we have been told.)

My guess is that they're living on a beach out in the boonies,

Where the tourists think they're natives - and the natives think they're loonies.

But whether they're on Maui, or Lanai or Molokai,

Or they've run off to Oahu or retired to Kauai,

You know that they're in Heaven in their new home by the sea. 

Sounds like Paradise, Nirvana, and Utopia to me!

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY 1997!