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They get big funerals,
As from the sky
Could seem a snail's trail.
Many have been arranged,
Sometimes who was going
To be there, before
They were even thought of.
Funerals that ran up
The Boulevard from its
Supine arteries,where
The vampire enters
Forever the entourage
In the land of shades.
Who follow, who need
Blood on their lips to speak
The sacred text with
Who's in & who's out
At the funeral parade.
Where anybody who's
Anybody was there,
That's what the big ones get.
Invitations to be in at the end.
A hand out, a share of funeral
Ground cost dead, price lived.
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Gift of Tongues
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| Reviewed by Lois Christensen |
5/16/2008 |
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| Really a good piece of work. NOt morbid at all and so true of many. |
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| Reviewed by Anne Brooks |
8/8/2005 |
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| I don't know much about funerals because I've never been to one:but I know how loss feels and this poem is about uncertainty ("blood on their lips") and morbidity...Anne pawlak.Touching poem. |
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| Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner |
4/16/2005 |
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For some reason, a vision of a second line came to my mind. You know what that is, don't you? A funeral procession in N'Awlins ain't like no other. You got peoples marchin and singin all the way to the cemetary.
An excellent, richly textured write--enjoyed!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :) |
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| Reviewed by Nordette Adams |
4/16/2005 |
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Pope's passed. Cardinals all in a row.
No, Jimmy Carter, you may not go.
Condoleeza goes in your place.
She does much better kissing a-s-uh..er-hum...face.
Stellar write, Robin!!!
;-) ~~Nordette |
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| Reviewed by m j hollingshead |
4/16/2005 |
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| well done |
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| Reviewed by J. Allen Wilson |
4/15/2005 |
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I really liked this piece...loved these line here...
In the land of shades.
Who follow, who need
Blood on their lips to speak
I could envision the souls enroute..following...and seeking...and those who are privy to their departure...Really did like this write.
Allen |
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