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by David
Parade of instruments going by
Such melancholy as I've e'er heard
Not a word, just slowed gestures
And slurred music, sadness bestirred
I think I'll stand nigh and cry a tear
And watch the mourners mourn
As goes by the funeral I hear
New Orleans style, sadly forlorn
It's tradition, for this town of parades
To mourn the dead with music
And followers, slowly played...
Till come we now upon graveside
And when they've been laid to rest
The music begins again, followers
Now returning home to attest
Tradition brought us home, riposte
hellicane category: local color
4 comments:
Thanks for shairing these beautiful musical images in a very special poem about New Orleans.
Thank you,Podpoet,for the truly fitting picture posted with my poem on your blogspot page....
Thank YOU for such a beautiful poem!
Did you know David personally?
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