A Tribute to James Dean

Bongoe drums and bullfights,

Swining days and reckless nights -

In Technicolor or Black and White,

Wrong or right, he'll win the fight -

Caught in a dusty haze -

till his final days

With wealth and fame,

engulfed by flame

with a need to feed, this lust for speed

can only lead, to the end

In red blazers and violence -

in misty eyes and gleaming hair,

in youth and innocence, the devil may care -

In confidence, and despair -

of rules and laws, for this Rebel without a cause

"You're tearing me apart!"

Interest in the dying arts...

Like a soldier, without a heart -

But this love for art will never die.

Strong and raw, with a heavy sigh -

Icy rebel, afraid to cry...

With dirty hands, he's on his knees -

Bullets in hand, an aim to please

In his stare, a glare, a reflection

of a oppressed era -

The hopes and fears of a lost generation.

The desperate tears, of a nation -

Heavy hearts, and unsettled bets.

Chocolate malts, and cigerettes -

Ink on paper,

Paint on canvas,

Script in hand,

A greater artist was never seen -

Than in the soul,

of James Dean.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741