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and post notes and photos about your poem like Thomas Mansfield.
This has a bit of a lot of us in it. Written at a low ebb in my life and inspired by a greetings card of a harlequin at a function. While inside the courtyard there was a party going - with the king and the courtiers making merry - the clown sat, dejected, with his back against an arch. The black and white chequered floor had a crack running along it. The picture strangely gave me strength. It gave me purpose and gave me the will to move forward, up and out of the depression I was in. What may initially appear to be a sad poem, I hope you will find that it is not. Thank you.
18th August 2014: How words come back to haunt us. What sad news it was to hear about Robin Williams' death. A man who brought joy, laughter and hope to millions, with his inimitable humour, has departed this earth. By his own hand.The clown succumbed. It is not for us to judge, nor blame, nor lay fault. The world is a poorer place because of this great man's demise. RIP Robin Williams