Best Clown Poems
Italian restaurant; pasta and wine - red, like the eyes of a bat,
Screeching from a cave, dark as the eyes of a snowman,
Coal plucked from a bucket, the mop was deposed -
By the broom, new sovereign of all instruments
Resound with the trumpet on Everest’s peak
High as a clown doused with vodka,
Watery eyes drip deep to the void.
Abyss without meaning that threatens to consume all life -
In an Italian restaurant.
Makeup: lonely face and painted smile
Dark hole: crying into nothing
Hell exists after all. It claws towards me,
Dragging me down and holding me tight.
Then I am lifted, eyes flashing.
It is my turn at the abyss….
Another stares down to me as I reach up with spindly hands.
Seaweed turtle abyss
Smoke, Poodles! Mystic Weed.
Touching on my friends tweed.
Baloomp he goes as his red nose falls off.
Falling to the ground forever like a knife at my throat.
Help me the glassy shine remains, slicing through the endless vacuum of time.
Below may be aliens, enemies, frenemies, or even God? But all I know is the megladown stops me from reaching thee in the black hole below and above- an abyss of loss an abyss of soul an abyss of time has made me its fool. Baloomp he says to me. Awakened I see nothing. Nothing. Nothing and me.
28 February 2020
Written for "Clown at the Abyss" contest, sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann
He's the class clown, full of hijinks and pranks,
Puts tacks on your seat, swallows fish from the tank.
He's full of you-know-what and vinegar, energy galore,
Will he act goofy today? -- Does a hungry lion roar?...
...Back at home, he trudges slowly through the side door,
A frown and fret on his heart, like a festering sore,
His mind a dark cavern, not a thing to live for.
He takes off his mask, the transition's complete,
'Cuz you can't be a clown when life's got you beat.
The Clown
a living metaphor
of what you see
and who it is
Still learning
to make a funny face
to walk differently
to perform
before an audience
A juggling fool
with worn out socks
in waiting for an applause
to satisfy a world
of melanchony
delirium,and expectations
Wearing the big black shoes
bigger than it's being
Keeping balance
of the imbalance
to nurture hungry mouths
that survive on half a planet
or what is left
To feed human shadows
which await the big blushed nose
and stretched out lips
Which await the mask
that veils turmoil and pain
The Clown
with a spirit to live
and a heart to die
is back in full circus
Splashing colours
on shades of grey
The Clown
a living metaphor
A tear away
from its ownself
The heterozygote twin
in the mirror
of a mortal smile
is back in town
and coming out to play.
Obadiah Slim, poor Circus Clown,
Always so sad, when the show came to town.
Wide painted smile and ruddy red nose,
Soaked to the skin by a rogue fire hose.
Falling off stilts, cream pie in his face
Wishing to dance, perform with some grace.
Chased by a man, dressed up as a bull,
Foam in his pants, till his trousers got full.
Mummy and Dad, Kids laughing out loud,
A sad little Joker who delighted the crowd.
Under painted smile, was hidden a frown,
Obadiah Slim the poor Circus Clown.
Be the clown,go on, turn the world upside down.
Be the one, who never thinks deeply or on humanity frowns.
Be above it all, hide your heart all you can.
You, who are so superior to the feelings of the family of man.
Be strong, grind your teeth.
Hide from the fact that one day,you, too,will be under ground with a wreath.
Be sure to hide your genuine feelings!
If open, the crowd, or those you love most, will avoid you or send you reeling.
We whine about personal, irrelavent illnesses to the sky!
It's the thing to do, I don't get here thrill of it, should I?
The world is crushing me, is all I do know.
A planet filled with fear, as our hair turns the color of snow.
A life filled with living on devices, is, utterinsanity.
Where there are no voices.
Just a motherboard of humanity.
Deep love is heard like the crashing of windows.
Turn the other way from the heart of man, that is where
tenderness blows?
There are those with hearts as warm as a fireplace.
Gather round them soon, they are the remnants of the human race.
6/30/2021
There is a solace in his silence, a servant of his solitudes,
As he comforts in compliance, a jester to the multitudes…
He stands alone a neophyte, struggling within his confines,
Actions that do excite, impugnable inhibition when he signs.
Master of the satirical sad, a foreordained flounder of many,
Like a narcotized nomad, wandering wills a penniless plenty…
A calamitous circus in mind, his heart exposed in the limelight,
Dolorous detentions unkind, amidst filling his formidable finite.
A bombarding bombast, with words falling to the desolate deep,
Sailing with a maudlin mast, wearing a facetious frown as to weep…
Layered with lecherous lashes, upon wounding the sacrificial soul,
His anguish turns to ashes, within continuation of his dramatic role.
A buffoon protected by providence, metamorphic minstrel of laugh,
Lacking in canopied confidence, recklessly writing his eternal epitaph…
As he mimes until the morrows, living amongst a false fading reality,
With a smolder to his sorrows, court jesting as a nilpotent nobody.
Feb.28.2020
Repost From May 23, 2019
Clown at the Abyss
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Placed 7'th...Thank You
Don Trumpty sits down on this throne
He’s crying and emits a loud groan
I can't believe a word
Said by this lying nerd
Like Epstein's acts I can't condone
The Epstein files revealed the lies
Of princes and powerful guys
Flight logs show Don Trump’s name
But deflection’s his game
All wrong doings, Trumpty denies
His evil deed’s he can’t suppress
Truth Social's his form of address
The chump should be banned
From the shores of Greenland
Small wonder the U.S is a mess!
This is really kind of a sad story
But please sit yourself down
For the words I'm going to bestow upon you
Will make you feel your watching a drunken clown
As I bow to gracefully greet you
My silly hat suddenly slips from my head
As I look to the ground and try to focus on it
I feel as if I should have stayed home in bed
Bending over I slowly reach for it
Then feel my face suddenly kissing the ground
Now the happy smile that I painted on my face
Has been smeared into a big ugly frown
Standing back up and trying to gather myself
I slowly begin to reach into my empty hat
But the dove that was supposed to be hidden in there
Is no longer where it should be at
So I reach to my sleeve for some flowers
Only to notice they are no longer there
I happen to pull out some fine ladies undies
To my amazement I think,what a nice pair
Then I reach to my other sleeve for something
Though so afraid of what it might be
I pull out a picture of my drunken self standing
In a photo box by a bar,casually taking a pee
In such embarassment I then begin to stumble
These big floppy shoes are too heavy for me today
I then reach into my pocket to find this here poem
Leaving me wonder,how will I to pay off my bar tab this way
Danny Boy Kearley:1-14-13
Not at all a true story..Ha,ha...
Just some silly words from my head(Hic-up)
:o)
I don't want to play anymore:
I'm not feeling up to the task.
And though people still like to laugh:
I've decided to drop my mask.
My act is no longer funny:
and most likely will be my last.
For my performance in whiteface
proves, I'm a relic of the past.
It's difficult to paint a smile
on top of a persistent frown.
Yet, in costume, I'm expected
to flip every frown upside down.
My lifelong fantasy has been:
to be a clown; it was my dream.
Yet, it's time I tried something else,
less emotionally extreme.
When I gaze into a mirror,
I need to see more than a clown.
And I'll don a genuine smile
that will no longer bring me down.
Circus clown, don't let me down.
Why don't you clown around with me?
You are my laughter.
You are my smile.
So stay awhile and smile with me.
Circus clown, don't let me down.
Why don't you cut with the silly frown?
You are my laughter.
You are my smile.
So lift me off the ground.
Circus clown, don't let me down.
Why don't you clown around with me?
You make me smile.
You make me laugh.
You make me sit, and watch you dance.
Circus clown, circus clown.
Why don't you clown around with me.
You are my laughter.
You are my smile.
You are my sunshine.
So stay awhile, and smile with me.
So stay awhile and smile with me..
Circus Clown Song Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1983,2014..ALL rights reserved..
As I was sitting in the park, one dark cloudy day, I was troubled in such a worrisome way.
My complicated life had me down, upon my face, a grimacing, tormented frown.
When I looked up, what I saw, was a stern faced clown, uninterested, suffused, withdrawn.
He was sitting on the bench, so sad, so frayed, his hands clenched tight, as if he prayed.
A look of torment upon his haunted face, it seemed he was uninterested, out of place.
From his eyes, tears were falling to the ground, I was astonished, I was so astound.
His face seemed to be frozen in time, but then again he reminded me of a mime.
I understood immediately, we were the same, both of us being in the same mind frame.
I tried to smile and to my despair, we both stared at each other with an equal glare.
I wondered what this message could possibly be, was this fate being directed to me?
He nodded his head, looked up to the leaden sky, he read my thoughts, I silently sighed.
I realized in an instant this was foreseen; so petrified, I felt like a frozen ashy figurine.
The clown still seated on the bench, his eyes steadily fixed, on me, was he totally
entrenched?
That tormented look that was upon his face, continued in silence, showing no reflective
grace.
Understanding, I smiled; I knew that this was my ghost, sent to me by The Divine’s Holy host.
No longer worried or concern; my troubles lifted, that gloomy dark cloud has been adjourned.
© Juanita Warden 7/12/11
“Nobody likes a clown at midnight.” Stephen King
CLOWN AT THE ABYSS
Darkroom abscessed
with neon blush and black-blood —
sunken eyes look surprised
to find oneself in a dank dungeon.
Fecal stench, not humorous,
screams on each bold painted-on face.
“Are we dead?”
“When did I die?”
“I didn’t want to take along this honking nose! It never quits!”
“These humongous shoes, like flippers, so cold they grip!”
The clowns, their smiles and frowns,
continue to gripe in the big tent abyss.
The epic fail of their lives an applause
from the demons who have them in grip.
Like fools, they suppose, they can feel their way out.
They march in one straight line with clanging chains,
chortling, “Heigh Ho! Heigh Ho! It’s off to work I go!”*
You see, they can’t help being funny - never could.
So on they march clinging to claustrophobic walls.
Yet they, one by one, begin to notice no floor exists.
Squalid birds, their chains rattle and roll,
with cheap jokes that never cease.
“Take my wife…please.”
Rings through the air. The demons cackle and boo
their despair, occasionally deflating the roof of the tent
on their heads - it sticks to their gooey faces, causing
them to run out of hot air, go limp, confine their space
even more - no audience to exploit. When the roof rises
each one finds water caterwauled at their faces, then
strapped to a chair as sufferable makeup - acidophil -
leaks behind their eyes, into their pores, maliciously.
Clown at the abyss digs his nails into the soil, climbing
a mountain of ill will, always failing...falling, and then
the jokes hammer again...over and over, head over heels.
...head over heels,
with no end…
2/27/2020
Clown at the Abyss Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
*Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
I have never liked your phoney guise as a clown
Whose silly painted smile should be turned upside down
I'd like to put red ants
Down your baggy ass pants
And watch you dance until the seat of 'em runs brown
I shrivel 'neath a scorching sun,
Devoid protection for my skin,
An aching grimace, I'll show none,
Worse burning pain suppurates within.
I wander naked through the rain,
Although my body fully clothed,
This broken love ne'er to regain,
Only in dreams we join betrothed.
I trace her footsteps in the snow,
And further on discover four,
A melting tear I can't forego,
The hurt bites sharp as glinting hoar.
I ramble lonely in the wind,
And taste her breath on every gust,
The rose that on her blouse I pinned,
Dead petals fell, and blew like dust.
I fall thwarted on lush ground,
So soft the breast of mother earth,
From looming hills my cries resound,
She comforts me for all she's worth.
Dim twilight dulled the failing day,
The robin shared her even' song,
And as we went our seperate way,
I blew a kiss !.....but she was gone !
I find myself having to act
onstage, spotlight trained and fixed
The Sad Clown
Laughing on the outside
Crying on the inside
Lying, pretending, dishonest
its all one big game
customer asks "How are you today?"
Lie: "Good"
True feelings submerged
only 10% revealed above water
until i get home @ night
then the Sad Clown is exposed in the darkness