ELVIS Poem by Andrew Buchanan Jackson
ELVIS
High noon, Graceland:
the risen Elvis
rolls away his rhinestone,
his burger, his Vegas.
To the few, he croons,
the gold lamé
spirit upon him, heavily
sideburned in black leather
or whistling Dixie.
Gretsch guitars twang:
the End of Days
follows on that note,
our saviour a surf song,
the flooded sand.
Monday, August 6, 2018
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poems By Andrew Buchanan Jackson
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/24/2024 5:57:51 AM # 1.0.0.1119
