Sept. 7 haiku

One of my favorite rock ‘n’ roll dates.

Buddy Holly, Sept. 7, 1936 – Feb. 3, 1959
Keith Moon, Aug. 23, 1946 – Sept. 7, 1978
Warren Zevon, Jan. 24, 1947 – Sept. 7, 2003
Chrissie Hynde, Sept. 7, 1951

“I play Buddy Holly every night before I go on. That keeps me honest.”
— Bruce Springsteen

September 7th
2 born, 2 died, rock rolls on
Much joy, some sorrow

Buddy Holly put
Lubbock on rock ’n’ roll’s map
Pioneering place

First saw Elvis there,
’55 — opened for him
Before year was out

Never wasted time
Burned like a comet’s swift mark
Three albums, two years

“Peggy Sue,” “Rave On,”
“Not Fade Away,” “True Love Ways”
Let’s say, “Well … All Right!”

Like that comet he
Fell from the sky, but song’s wrong
Music didn’t die

Yes, a few came first
Little Richard, Elvis, Chuck
On rock ’n’ roll’s trail

But Buddy’s the link
From them to so many: Stones,
Beatles, Dylan, Bruce

Through those big glasses
He saw the future, refused
To wait, made it now

Tonight we’ll rave on
Some of us do every day
Refuse to wait too

Speaking of ravers
Tormenter and tormented
Keith Moon died this date

A great drummer who
Blew up drum kits — and toilets
He loved to raise hell

Gene Krupa, Hal Blaine
Inspired him, but Moon was
Thunder and lightning

Stories of excess
Were legend, but what demons,
What pain lurked beneath?

Moon had a great run
But no one could keep the man
From self-destruction

Night before death saw
“The Buddy Holly Story,”
Dined with Beatle Paul

Now Moon rests in peace
God knows there wasn’t any
When he was alive

Warren Zevon lived,
Wrote, sang, played, did everything
Way out on the edge

Werewolves, mad gunners
Larger than life characters
Filled songs to the brim

But underneath it,
Drinking couldn’t quench the pain,
Empty-handed heart

For all his sadness,
Though, his songs made connections,
Shared true emotions

Friends sobered him up
Music saved him, till cancer
Ripped his lungs out, Jim

He left on “The Wind”
We promised to keep him in
Our hearts for a while

The real rockin’ deal
Lives in many, like Chrissie;
Hynde’s no pretender

Artist, journalist
Her talents many but she
Just wanted to rock

And she exploded
Just like a Keith Moon drum kit
When she got her chance

She sang “I’m special”
With a Jagger-like swagger
And damn she was right

Band mates came and went,
Lived and died, but she always
Kept the beat going

Tangled with Limbaugh
Passion for animal rights
Rebel with causes

63 today
Solo album, Uptown gig
Rock on, Chrissie Hynde

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Sept. 7 haiku

Buddy Holly, Sept. 7, 1936 – Feb. 3, 1959
Keith Moon, Aug. 23, 1946 – Sept. 7, 1978
Warren Zevon, Jan. 24, 1947 – Sept. 7, 2003
Chrissie Hynde, Sept. 7, 1951

“I play Buddy Holly every night before I go on. That keeps me honest.”
— Bruce Springsteen

September 7th
2 born, 2 died, rock rolls on
Much joy, some sorrow

Buddy Holly put
Lubbock on rock ’n’ roll’s map
Pioneering place

First saw Elvis there,
’55, opened for him
Before year was out

Never wasted time
Burned like a comet’s swift mark
Three albums, two years

“Peggy Sue,” “Rave On,”
“Not Fade Away,” “True Love Ways”
Let’s say, “Well … All Right!”

Like that comet he
Fell from the sky, but song’s wrong
Music didn’t die

Yes, a few came first
Little Richard, Elvis, Chuck
On rock ’n’ roll’s trail

But Buddy’s the link
From them to so many: Stones,
Beatles, Dylan, Bruce

Through those big glasses
He saw the future, refused
To wait, made it now

Tonight we’ll rave on
Some of us do every day
Refuse to wait too

Speaking of ravers
Tormenter and tormented
Keith Moon died this date

A great drummer who
Blew up drum kits — and toilets
He loved to raise hell

Gene Krupa, Hal Blaine
Inspired him, but Moon was
Thunder and lightning

Stories of excess
Were legend, but what demons,
What pain lurked beneath?

Moon had a great run
But no one could keep the man
From self-destruction

Night before death saw
“The Buddy Holly Story,”
Dined with Beatle Paul

Now Moon rests in peace
God knows there wasn’t any
When he was alive

Warren Zevon lived,
Wrote, sang, played, did everything
Way out on the edge

Werewolves, mad gunners
Larger than life characters
Filled songs to the brim

But underneath it,
Drinking couldn’t quench the pain,
Empty-handed heart

For all his sadness,
Though, his songs made connections,
Shared true emotions

Friends sobered him up
Music saved him, till cancer
Ripped his lungs out, Jim

He left on “The Wind”
We promised to keep him in
Our hearts for a while

The real rockin’ deal
Lives in many, like Chrissie;
Hynde’s no pretender

Artist, journalist
Her talents many but she
Just wanted to rock

And she exploded
Just like a Keith Moon drum kit
When she got her chance

She sang “I’m special”
With a Jagger-like swagger
And damn she was right

Band mates came and went,
Lived and died, but she always
Kept the beat going

Tangled with Limbaugh
Passion for animal rights
Rebel with causes

61 today
Still plays when the spirit moves
Rock on, Chrissie Hynde