Best Parade Poems
Fantasy 2-22-24
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Parade
At midnight dawn my mind escapes parting the stars
Making my way to a summerland torchlight parade
Where grand marshals of zebra fish
Lead the festival from fiery snow drifts of spun clouds
Making way for tunes and flourishes of the flugel zoots
Dressed in braided gold, sounds of silver reeds giggling om-pahs,
Followed by perfect lines of elephins holding hot air hippos
Rows and rows of dolphettes ride on one horned steads
As whirling woodles swish their skirts to drumline mango tangos
From silver floats rosemaids royal wave to gaping galaxies
As crickethoppers dance the wooly wozzle by the Doodle Loos!
And porpi pass in waves of burnished summersaults
Comet twirlers shout “Hooray!” and clap their stony hands,
Snarfish teeter on the invisible between starstruck novas
Then tap dance in steps of dipsy doodles for eleven moons
Red giants snoozle riding quadra pogo stickes
And throw tickertape confetti – sounding the curly noodles curfew –
Remembering how to hold the magic as this homecoming parade ends
Tap dancing into the horizon's shadow as this long day’s night passes by -
And masquerades of new moons wane in tipsy oodles!
I live amazed in an amphitheatre,
A huge red and white domed tent.
Working with actors and jesters,
Enduring a perpetual torment.
The crazies I know are the clowns,
Red nose and a big head of hair.
And the gym junkies, they’re the strongmen,
Wrestling each day with a junked up brown bear.
And the farmers are the animal acts,
Talking with elephants, lions and a monkey.
While the women down town, they’re the hula hoop spinners,
Forever looking so spunky.
Then there’s the boss in charge, she runs the sideshow,
With magic acts, rubber man and the pony.
She makes up the rules as she goes every day,
Turning up as the bearded lady.
My life is in the flying fruit fly circus,
Others, are they oblivious to sights I view.
Every day brings a new surprise, I see it, I wonder,
I’m curious, do you see it too?
Long live James Tate. :)
Shrub leaves lie curled in the dormant yard;
Trees shiver in their nakedness
As a crisp autumn wind exhales
Into the barren night sky.
On the corner of Walnut and Maple,
The Old Crowder House fights for breath--
Creaking and moaning with age and neglect;
Too decrepit to shelter life beyond a few strays.
There in the cupola she sits
In the long forgotten platform rocker,
Watching the child parade with eager longing
As they wander from house to house.
Will one look up to give her a smile?
Will they even notice her there in her chair
Rocking, as she has done for a lifetime or two
Mourning the loss of her own?
She hears a child's cry echo through the night
And notices a boy clinging to his mother.
Does he see me? Will I finally be released?
Alas, it's just the cats and startled birds.
And so she sits. Waiting and Rocking;
Rocking and Waiting for that magic night,
When the hallow spirits sing and dance
Under a barren sky as the cool winds exhale,
And the marchers of the child parade
Finally, look up and notice the wraith
Longing for a child's smile,
As they pass on their way to the next treat.
Jsc
October 17, 2004
Off, Seamus marched with a swagger,
Yet, soon, he slowed, that sly lagger.
Then, not very far,
He snuck to a bar:
By noon, his march was a stagger.
March 17, 2017
Luck of the Irish Limerick Contest
Kim Merryman, Sponsor
It's a burst of spring
the Easter Parade of hues!
Lilies dance on streets
in creams and reds, deep green phase
dazed orange yellow bliss maze.
Heartbeat of rebirth
while the flaming redbird sings
amidst subtle scents.
Colorful celebration
Garden party location.
My mossy ferns awakened, anticipating something wonderful and new.
They are coming, the violets whispered. Their tiny voices flowing through.
Faerie parades whimsically teaching my woodland creatures
to treat each other kindly,
Sparkly, winged beauties, began prancing across my land bridge,
“animals, keep behind thee’.
Faerie whisper reverent, a tribute to me?
Or the gentle orb of sunlight peeking through the trees?
She is gorgeous today, another holy one marveled, Let us honor our host.
I glistened up my grasses, and vivid violets, hoping to inspire the most.
one of the princesses was riding Orc, my largest brown bear. He was wearing
a flowered lei.
I cannot remember the last time I had felt exuberant in this all-encompassing way.
She is beautiful, a dainty glow faerie sitting on my creek bank murmured in awe.
I feel my woodlands, streams, grasses, even felled oaks, reacting in an ethereal loving way.
Magical mystical madness overcomes me, as streaks of sunlight scatter through
my proud giant oaks, landing on my moss.
Faerie Sanctuary Day Parade, a parade to unite all species of the forest, If I had
not submitted the application, they would have met elsewhere, a giant loss.
Dawn And The Heart's Parade
Sun rose and dawn faded so far away,
My darling lay asleep by my side
From my window saw a speckled fawn
Such beauty can never ever be denied.
I saw green grass welcome her bite,
And new morn embrace her soft stride
There lay my lady dreaming from night
Her beauty she could never ever hide.
The trees blew slightly and bent,
As a morning breeze gave its thrill
Awake my darling a sweet smile sent
My heart beyond and over the hill.
Sun beams welcomed our great day,
We united again had each our cup
Where joy found its welcomed way
As our love blossomed and opened up.
New world sang out its new desires,
We walked into the opening show
That warmth kindled glowing fires
Eternal love, all we wanted to know.
Her radiance was a mystical sight,
She that held my heart in her hand
We both longed for dark of the night
Where only desires were in command.
Robert J. Lindley, 07-20-2015
You breaketh my soul
where am I to find it now that you've taken control
neglecting the tide
my fountain of youth placed there by your side
Never shun the forgotten sinner that by shame ever to stay in remembrance
strained to be as Temperance
flawless by standards of mind playing amateurs in times glance
my savoring heart will not bludgeon yours if you offer it your stance
Procure me to the parade
hover moonlight shade
blue turns to jade
stay with the lovers heir to which we have made
peer into the ocean of silver ice crystal streams
seeing our fate in my dreams
Call of minds refuge
upon weary lands of ode
memories kept under deluge
to decipher the code
Forgiven are ye who walk upon the stony grave of deserts loom
swept ashes by grace unbound naked as a cleansed fume
Strands of ribbons ride the sky with suns arrival
Children watch for birds and listen for the bands
To their delight music raises up horizons on the curve
Lifted like a curtain at the circus
Curved at the ends where land meets sky
Higher than high the kaleidoscopic eye burns on
Yellow bright to helicopter heaven straight ahead
Where fireworks explode for fun and nothing
Jump at the opportunity to work for free
Licorice sticky kids eat everything in sight
Lamp posts made of chocolate come in handy
When marching bands go tootsie rolling by
They come alive with signs that never stop
Remaining stationary in their concrete red and white
Drummers borrow beats born on tomorrows slapped behind
Rhythms come from behind because bands don't travel backwards
Red rubber noses adorn clown faces
Crossed feet go stumbling over curbs
In over-sized shoes eager to please the masses
Men in clumsy gloves juggle empty air
As if someone or something were there
Missing persons of interest who disappear
Tumbling invisible in the wind gone after air
Strings hold more than helium up there
Sky balloons fly by in multicolored skins
Elastic in flight, gentle to the touch of pins
Pretty in simplicity, shining in blinding incognito
But parades do not begin without a purpose
Parades come sooner than the circus if not first
When they come they must arrive in cannons
In royal colors, living colors would be nice
And shot to make sure everyone wakes up
As children scream, demanding everything
Holding their breath until they or sky turn blue
Because only balloons can turn to purple
Which is a curse but better than becoming turtle
Turtles can not float on unknown surfaces
Or high in atmospheres from what we can surmise
And if you get the drift on flight mechanics
A compromise to fly would be ridiculous
never were afraid
we live the movie "Mermaid"
comes with a parade
was not offending
movie had a great ending
to you poem sending
about will worry
away we all did scurry
in a big hurry
God gave His consent
are things that He may have meant
should always repent
although lenient
what always is convenient
when the rules were bent
The classes came out, grade by grade,
In costumes for the grand parade,
A hand-held sign announcing each,
In lock-step with the ones who teach.
A motor-scootered cop came first
To make sure traffic had dispersed,
While friends and families lined the streets
To photograph or send out Tweets.
We saw the first grade classes pass
And there was Hadley with her class.
As Ariel, she marched and grinned
(In human form, not scaled or finned).
The third grade group came up so fast
We almost missed when Henry passed.
He gave a glance but didn’t smile,
As serious is more his style.
A sweet event for Halloween
For all the students to be seen
Parading in the neighborhood
As in this holiday, they should.
all were seen
seen walking
down in slow
shuffles of
feeling down
down the street
music played
with a somber
melody as if
trumpets were
crying and the
trombone moaning
but at the place the
resting place where
lowered down the music
turned up
beat and
everyone
clapped
and sang
shake
that thang
in a jazz
funeral in
Pennsylvania
It All Started With A Parade
All walks of people crowding the streets
Like moving vessels of a mighty fleet.
Jolly Diana, a wake-up call at dawn;
A throng is gathered down the town.
Cadets go marching, called the corps;
Gutsy kids are watching from above the roofs.
Steps are drummed to a cadence;
As marshals yell to the human stream.
Big brothers joined in uniform
They are soldiers, the kids assumed.
With ecstasy without disguise,
Pride and innocence seen in their eyes.
Some beat the drums and others blow horns;
A gal is leading with a baton.
with Flags of colors and banners too;
To a festive town around they go.
Church bells tolled and clergies joined,
And so the teachers and policemen.
The politicians and constituents;
The village folks are coming in.
The air is filled with festivity
There's so much fun all through the day.
From one entertainment to another it leads;
But it all started with a parade.
Date and Time of Writing:
March 01, 2012
10:14am - 10:48am
February 28, 2012 is the 40th anniversary of Barangay Liburon in Carcar City, Cebu, Philippines from being a Sitio of Barangay Can-asujan to an independent *Barangay. Being new to the community, I had the curiosity of how the community people conducted the celebration. I have the honest comparison of my ecstasy being a 3-year old kid in 1974, having the first consciousness of a parade in commemoration of Sogod, Southern Leyte annual town fiesta that was then held every 15th of December (later moved to December 21st). As a sort of reminiscence, and how it differed to what I observed of the present kids observing the parade, led me to the writing of this poem.
* In Philippine political setting, the Barangay is the smallest administrative division. It is a community of about 800 square hectare more or less, subdivided into smaller villages called Sitios. The Barangay is headed by an elected Barangay Captain with a counsel composed of eight counselors.
"Pets on Parade"
on Christmas Eve two kitty cats were sleeping
as Santa Claus climbed down the chimney creeping
Excalibur started to purr
Gabriel raised his black fur
poor Santa was startled and began weeping.
while Santa was chased by playful felines
trotting toward them a band of hungry canines
sweet Venus the white Wstie
was growing quite testy
for commotion interrupted her night sublime.
Thor and Thunder twin midnight blue great danes
frolicked in fun as Santa reached for red candy canes
they took giant licks
opened Santa's bag of tricks
as Raider the Shepherd smeared frosty windowpanes.
pretty pets on parade on Christmas Eve
had a jolly good time you best believe
sharing cookies and milk
with the Moon smooth as silk
and Santa was so happy to leave.
*For SKAT'S Calling All Pet Poems ..
In endless quest we sought seclusions peace
hiding in the mystery of a strength always thought weak
and so denied the hero the still of death’s parade
waved surrender’s handkerchiefs to fill his empty grave
relied upon the charity of victory’s feeble thrill
struggling to rise above fresh bloodied horror’s sound.
Relentlessly the ears decry the loneliness of empty sound
as furtive eyes no future seek in fear of war, in fear of peace,
the agony of their disgrace, the joy of living without thrill
they know they’re strong, they know they’re weak
for somehow evading battles grave
to march in fiction’s harsh parade.
Solemnly on hush of wind, wars ghosts, in shadow on parade
march to history’s retold lies, leave no footprints, make no sound
for they will not resign their fate to earthen shell of shallow grave
nor will they let it slip behind the fragile wall of unearned peace
returning to a world in which we are perceived as weak
malign them with contrived disdain, condemn their sacrifice as thrill.
Podiums will hail the cause, cheering crowds create a thrill,
rolling drums will precede taps, politicians will parade,
orators with fiery words that make us neither strong nor weak
echoing across dead ears jaundiced by the painful sound
of promises that never are the troubadours of peace
and fall, as soldiers fall, alone upon a grave.
Newsmen mumble, double talk, of situations grave
amusement parks entice us with a death defying thrill
fire crackers, waving flags, noise to celebrate a peace
heads will bow when passing by war’s endless parade
the young will even shed a tear at taps lamenting sound
grit their teeth and know that honor’s tears don’t make us weak.
For freedom is the resting place for the bravest of the weak
who stand in freedom’s honor when the threat is grave
and rally to defend her, to keep her promise sound
not seeking to be heroes, nor the deception of war’s thrill
just honoring the memory of those still on parade
knowing there’s no solace in seclusions peace.
At heart we know that all are weak, that war is not a thrill
that those who fill the graves are shadow soldiers on parade
that the melancholy trumpet sound is the exhaled breath of peace.
John G. Lawless
©6/19/2014