Parade of One
by Sandra S Corona
Saturday, May 17, 2003
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Clowns go out in style!
Was I early or merely late for the parade?
The floats were decorated
and I'd furnished some costumes--
witches, clowns, angels and brooms.
Forget the time,
where was the crowd
for the parade?
Where was the band, the music . . .
did the Shriners ever show?
Is this the time, place to go?
No horse, buggies,
no bands to play . . .
I am dismayed.
Where are the other people?
What's the purpose of this show?
"'Tis time, clown, for you to go."
Where was the voice?
How did I hear . . .
their words so clear?
I felt 'one' touch my elbow
then I could see around me,
a grisly group, harmony.
You cannot see--but Death's with me . . . gently sighing.
The guests alongside are strange--
all of them have 'passed' away--
going where I'm 'led' today.
I'm am marching
this lonely street
lacking heart beat.
The yarn wig upon my head
is now dripping scarlet red.
I see 'drops' behind . . . ahead.
This road is old
though new for me;
my last journey.
Clowns laugh until the end comes,
it's all they know how to do,
but, please, don't cry; don't be blue.
My son is near,
now it's quite clear,
I am done here.
I wasn't early nor was I late for the parade.
The parade was just . . . for one.
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|Reviewed by Lady Peg
This one is so well done.
|Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
|Behind the mask of the facade, a wonderful poem, so open and deeply honest, well done|
|Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
|Well done, Sandy.|
|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|The tragedy of a clown. Let laughter hide the pain.|
|Reviewed by Tony Nerone
|Dear Sandy, First off a great poem. I read your letter. I could not reply because I am just not the person to give advice. I suck at it.
|Reviewed by Jack Roberts
|Good write Sandy! Kind of dark for you though my friend. I'm used your cheery stuff : )