Max Brown | + Follow Poet |
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The Clown's Monologue

I am a clown: silly, simple clown. 
People do laugh at me: I often wonder why. 
They call me 'fool' when I am being honest, 
And tell me to shut up when I speak the truth. 

My life is harsh, and every day I struggle: 
I struggle to survive; I struggle to break through. 
And yet I do not scold my fortune. 
I do not growl, and I grumble not. 

I entertain, but rarely entertained, 
And smile when I do not feel like smiling. 
My age is old. My pleasures are too few. 
My youthful memories grow faint and disappear. 

I sleep where the she-night finds me, 
And wake where the he-morning scares her away.
He slowly comes, dignified and noble. 
She slowly leaves, flirtatious and lonesome. 

The morrow comes, bringing its timid sounds. 
A cock is out there, cockily cocking – rogue. 
He wakes me up, pretending not to notice. 
The morning sleep is a misdeed to him. 

I open eyes: the sky is still above me, 
And then get up, stretching my legs and arms. 
I manly yawn: I do not yawn like ladies. 
Finally ready to walk; to live; to be. 

Today is Sunday – glorious Sunday – 
The best day to earn, to gain, and to receive. 
When one has almost nothing, walking is always lovely.
Two steps at a time: no need to rush. 

I enter a plaza: the town's belly-button. 
A sea of things I see, yet few can buy. 
Bread, spinning famished heads around, 
Sweets, spirits there – anything you want.

Here I am, dancing on a wooden scaffold, 
And here, adults, watching, children, laughing mad.
They throw me coins: they know that I need them.
They know and love my tricks; I love them too. 

A clown is a godsend for every party. 
I dance, and jump, and somersault myself.
People are on cloud nine; in seventh heaven. 
I win again: the crowd is all mine.

Sunset; sundown; evenfall is here. 
The weary people have had enough. 
Alas, the daily play is over now; 
But life's play is still going on. 

I find me a lowly-lowly tavern: 
Buy meal and drink. What else a clown needs? 
All my life, I walk round and round. 
I have no home to go; no family to see. 

A b*tch is nearby, hungrily staring. 
She wants to get much more than I can give. 
I finish meal, and throw her leftovers: 
She swallows them before she reaches them. 

I suck the friendly bottle dry and hollow. 
It makes me warm, gently befuddling me. 
In daytime, I may be a clown; 
When drunk at night, I am a king of life.

Copyright © Max Brown | Year Posted 2019

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Beata Agustin Date: 6/10/2025 12:52:00 AM Thanks for sharing this... exposing your thoughts through your unique poetic style. Meanwhile, I greet you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Be blessed. Login to Reply

Caren Krutsinger Date: 7/21/2019 7:26:00 AM Max, I started to highlight the lines I liked the best, but I was highlighting the entire poem, so I had to FAVOR it and popped it onto my FAV list. Welcome to Poetry Soup! Login to Reply Max Brown Date: 7/21/2019 4:47:00 PM Thanks, Caren. I wrote 'the Clown's Monologue' in two sittings, and it took me about eight hours to write it. It was tiresome though.