Memphis, Tennessee People keep asking at shows where they can get a copy of my poem, White Flour. Christine Kane did me the honor of printing it on her excellent blog a while back, but I guess it’s time I added it to my own. By the way, I just got word that it will be published in Friends Journal in June.
The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be
In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee
A dozen men put on their suits and quickly took their places
In white robes and those tall and pointed hoods that hid their faces
Their feet all fell in rhythm as they started their parade
They raised their fists into the air, they bellowed and they brayed
They loved to stir the people up, they loved when they were taunted
They didn’t mind the anger, that’s precisely what they wanted
As they came around the corner, sure enough, the people roared
They couldn’t quite believe their ears, it seemed to be… support!
Had Knoxville finally seen the light, were people coming ‘round?
The men thought for a moment that they’d found their kind of town
But then they turned their eyes to where the cheering had its source
As one their faces soured as they saw the mighty force
The crowd had painted faces, and some had tacky clothes
Their hair and hats outrageous, each had a red foam nose
The clowns had come in numbers to enjoy the grand parade
They danced and laughed that other clowns had come to town that day
And then the marchers shouted, and the clowns all strained to hear
Each one tuned in intently with a gloved hand to an ear
“White power!” screamed the marchers, and they raised their fisted hands
The clowns leaned in and listened like they couldn’t understand
Then one held up his finger and helped all the others see
The point of all this yelling, and they joined right in with glee
“White flour!” they all shouted and they felt inside their clothes
They pulled out bags and tore them and huge clouds of powder rose
They poured it on each other and they threw it in the air
It got all over baggy clothes and multi-colored hair
All but just a few of them were joining in the jokes
You could almost see the marchers turning red beneath white cloaks
They wanted to look scary, they wanted to look tough
One rushed right at the clowns in rage, and was hauled away in cuffs
But the others chanted louder marching on around the bend
The clowns all marched on too, of course, supporting their new friends
“White power!” came the marchers’ cry — they were not amused
The clowns grew still and thoughtful; perhaps they’d been confused
They huddled and consulted, this bright and silly crowd
They listened quite intently, then one said “I’ve got it now!”
“White flowers!” screamed the happy clown and all the rest joined in
The air was filled with flowers, and they laughed and danced again
“Everyone loves flowers, and white’s a pretty sort
I can’t think of a better cause for marchers to support!”
Green flower stems went flying like small arrows from bad archers
White petals covered everything, including the mad marchers
And then a very tall clown called the others to attention
He choked down all his chuckles, then said “Friends I have to mention
That with all the mirth and fun today it’s sort of hard to hear
But now I know the cause that these strange marchers hold so dear
“Tight showers!” the clown bellowed and he hit his head in wonder
He held up a camp shower and the others all got under
Or at least they tried to get beneath, they strained but couldn’t quite
There wasn’t room for all of them— they pushed, but it was tight
“White Power!” came their marchers’ cry, quite carefully pronounced
The clowns consulted once again, then a woman clown announced
“I’ve got it! I’m embarrassed that it took so long to see
But what these marchers march for is a cause quite dear to me…”
“Wife power!” she exclaimed and all the other clowns joined in
They shook their heads and laughed at how erroneous they’d been
The women clowns were hoisted up on shoulders of the others
Some pulled on wedding dresses, shouting “Here’s to wives and mothers!”
The men in robes were angry and they knew they’d been defeated
They yelled a few more times and then they finally retreated
And when they’d gone a black policeman turned to all the clowns
And offered them an escort to the center of the town
The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be
In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee
People joined the new parade, the crowd stretched out for miles
The clowns passed out more flowers and made everybody smile
And what would be the lesson of that shiny southern day?
Can we understand the message that the clowns sought to convey?
Seems that when you’re fighting hatred, hatred’s not the thing to use
So here’s to those who march on in their big red floppy shoes
(based on true events of May 26, 2007 – ©2007 David LaMotte)
Phyllis Jones says
Beauty in living color!!! Also am sharing with my pastor Jim Rigby. Great Jan. sermon series on MLK Jr. http://Www.staopen.org. Give a listen all. – totally fits with this.
Suzie says
What an amazing poem! Thank you for sharing this powerful experience through your gift of writing…
Still hoping you might find a reason to come to Scotland. Best wishes on the book, hope to get a copy!!
david says
Thank you, Suzie! I appreciate those kind words. Wait until you see the illustrations. They are truly lovely.
I’m hopeful that I can get over some time. If you happen to dream up an event, give me a shout — I’ll have an excuse! 🙂 It looks like I might come over to Merry Old for the Greenbelt festival again this summer, so maybe I can add a stop. I’ll dream on that, anyway.
arjuna greist says
Hey, I just read this on my radio show, as part of my evening of poetry & music that highlights creative & nonviolent reactions to asshattery. FMI on the show, see http://www.myspace.com/patchworkmajority
arjuna greist says
Fantastic telling of a great tale! In my mind, it had a sort of “Devil Went Down To Georgia” musical accompaniment. I’ve forwarded it on to many folks…
Erika says
You might be curious to know that this excellent poem is making the rounds in viral email, with great reception, and has made its way all the way to Australia. I’m an American ex-pat living here in Melbourne, and with dear friends in Knoxville this hits home. I’m not the sentimental type, but this brought tears to my eyes. Way to go, clowns–That’s the way to change the world. And thanks for the excellent presentation of the story in this poem–Its good writing will make it all the more likely to be a lasting lesson, rather than just a whimsical news story. Much appreciated.
joycets684 says
That is one of the best things I have read in a long time.
I love it.
Is there music to it? (yet?)
Maybe I’ll find some………………………
Diane Martin says
Jennifer had finally gotten me a copy so I could hear the end of it. It is truly awesome and I, too, wish I could have seen it in person. Hope you all are well. It was so great to see you in Santa Fe. Diane
bchboy1 says
Thank You this is the best way to wage war against stupidity
lowerdryad says
Yeah – me too! 😉 I wrote the poem from an article I read, and later had the details confirmed by a clown who was there that day. Good stuff.
sarah says
brilliant! wish I could have seen it.