In Praise of Bob Dylan

1) A Haiku in Praise of Bob Old voice, new song found, Words like rain, now a new breeze, Still the times they change. 2) A Sonnet in Praise of Blood on the Tracks Your heart laid bare upon the vinyl's grooves, A fractured love, a landscape torn apart. The weary soul through winter's echo moves, And finds no solace for a broken heart. "Tangled Up in Blue" begins the tale, Of memories like smoke that drift and fade. A phantom scent on every biting gale, A promise whispered, now a lie betrayed. The mandolin's lament, a lonely cry, The weary tramp of feet on cobblestone. You sing of what it means to say goodbye, And sit within the silence, now alone. So perfect in its pain, its raw design, A masterpiece of sorrow, truly thine. 3) A Sestina in Praise of Blonde on Blonde In Memphis heat, the sessions came to be, A sound electric, filled with Nashville tones. The amp and organ swelled for all to see, As weary minstrels sang their cryptic groans. No single thing could ever make him cease, This double album, built on shifting stones. The harmonica in "Visions" gives no peace, A weary traveler, caught between two tones. A restless poet, setting souls at ease, With words like fire, or just the gentle groans. A restless fever, granting no release, Among the clutter of the shifting stones. He sings of witches, filled with odd unease, A lover's promise shattered by the tones. The organ groans a desperate plea for peace, While broken feelings turn to silent groans. The endless, swirling patterns never cease, Upon a path of unhewn, shifting stones. He speaks of tangled webs, and deep unease, Of broken promises, and weary tones. The midnight hours offer no release, He finds a truth in fractured, lonely groans. The weary heart in love's chaotic cease, Is caught between the shifting, weathered stones. A frantic rhythm, searching for some peace, A jangling guitar, filled with strange new tones. The siren's call, a promise of release, A broken vow that ends in hollow groans. The endless road where visions never cease, Is paved with polished, beautiful, worn stones. The double album grants a strange release, A monument of sound, with cryptic tones. The final song provides a moment's peace, A whispered truth beyond the anguished groans. A masterpiece that never seems to cease, This fragile house of lonely, shifting stones.