Best Tatters Poems
Suddenly from somewhere
A street urchin-
An untamed bird of the wider sky
Dropped down
Into the circus tent
Before him was unfurled
Scenes eerie….awesome!!
Roaring lions and tigers,
Gibbering baboons, caravans of camels,
Animal tamers and acrobats,
Artists balancing on poles
Swinging from bars to trapeziums
Pliant girls with plastic limbs
And pouting breasts,
Walking on tight ropes.
A strange world,
Peopled with beasts and men!
His face, painted white and red
In motley dress, he was arrayed
And a tall tapering cap, placed
On his forcibly tonsured head
He hardly knew what it all meant.
He heard the bells ringing
And it was time for the show
He was told
He would henceforth be a clown
And should make people laugh
A thousand sunsets passed him by
He forgot the familiar alleys of the streets
Lost sight of the endless pathways of the sky
In a world –
So populous- so empty,
He buried him
In the hidden caverns of himself
Nursing a hundred bruises
Inflicted by Time’s sharp razors
Often he was reminded-
“You should make others laugh”
He did make people laugh
While a fountain of tears lay frozen
In the slivers of his broken heart!!
Jan.7. 2023
~ Placed Fourth~
Tatters Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mystic Rose Rose
Why
Did I
Get sucked in
Like a big fish
And play with the clowns
There went my rent money
I'm a laughing stock at cards
My life's a big circus as is
The only poker I know is fun
My
Oh my
See my face
After that loss
I'm at loss for words
My insides are empty
My wallet is emptier
My hair's on fire, I need help
Where is my cotton candy lady
connie pachecho
1/5/23
TOM THE TATTERS MAN
The sidewalk creaked the old-ship-creak, cracking away a gorge at last;
asphalt split like wood, split-fast and bastions and toilets ------
overflowing fast; flooding through the deep dark cracks:
the Drunken Dance
Tom the Tatters Man, Tom and Ned ------- drowned whiskey white
wreaking around where harlequins astound; with wine and clowns
and nothing but buzzards around ------ they shot them all down,
they drank while death danced in their hands, heaving and hawing
til their heads swam
Alleys here and there strewn with vagabond boxes, boxed like shoes
too tight to make the fit ------ they'd all given up on the fix of life
every last one; the eldest and the young,
beggars all
Skyscraper shadows make a house of steely-steel thatched roofs
steely rust upon the alleyway proofs, the back is cold and stiff upon
morning whiffs....
of molten garbage
Defeat
Tom the Tatters Man did not despair, while here and there
molten garbage everywhere ------ in his socks and shoes,
molten in his mouth despite a tune, as he rose up and flinched
his morning love; a shot of whiskey at nine o'clock
Life used to be so glorious for me
when no one feared or scorned me. Children flocked
to circuses and parties just to see
my great performances. This clown’s life rocked!
The world has changed, but I’ve maintained my style.
I ride my red tricycle, juggle balls,
and do my slapstick tricks that once brought smiles.
Laughs followed my outlandish, well-staged falls.
Kids who adored me once are terrified.
They’ve been exposed to movies that portray
us clowns as wickedness personified.
I’m grieved by tales that keep the kids away.
I can’t compete with kids’ hand-held devices.
The few times I’ve performed in recent years,
it’s been painfully clear that what entices
the young is phones and games. I earn no cheers.
Add to the kids that fear me and the ones
that won’t watch me and can’t put down their phones—
the ones whose parents favor spending tons
of dough on birthday trips; some take out loans!
My life is now bereft of much that matters
to clowns. My very being lies in tatters.
January 6, 2023
Tatters Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
platypus features
greasepaint pallor weirdo clown
red nose big honker
outlandish shoes flail around
crazy hairdo balding crown
eyes evoke pathos
whitewashed face a haunting frown
empty seats again
last show in his frilly gown
tattered circus closing down
TATTERS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Howmanysyllables 5/7/5/7/7 x 2
I don't want to play childish games
no more, or don a funny mask.
And though people still need to laugh,
I'm no longer up to the task.
My act isn't as funny today,
I'm but a relic of the past.
And a smile painted on white-face
unfortunately, just doesn't last.
I find it hard to wear a smile
on top of reality's frown.
And yet, I'm paid to be happy,
and flip fallen frowns upside-down.
It's been a while since I've felt loved,
I need to dream another dream.
And pursue something a little
less emotionally extreme.
When people see my painted face,
they don't see me, only a clown.
And if they comment on my smile
lately, it tends to bring me down.
(Quatrain)
01/02/2023
TATTERS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Oh boy of the fifties born and bred,
London's burning while Nero plays
His strings of chord while Christians bled.
Aah, memories of the good old days.
Lions consumed the prisoner wretch,
Encircled by thousands roaring down.
Tarred and stricken as to fletch,
And blasphemy adorns the Sacred Crown.
Oh this bleeding Heart on Golgotha's mound
Scant bone protruding from the tabernacle
Where days before shared He the cenacle,
Now cries of derision and mockery resound.
Oh boy of the sixties shredded and torn,
Fed and mutilated with wicked scorn.
Left to wander and roam amidst lamps
Of dull mellow yellow and begging with tramps.
Hope a food for the soul and spirit,
Clinging to beam of light's pure joy.
The longing and yearning to dis-inherit
Yet gain the Christ and swear His foy.
Let me tell you a story . . .
A story about a clown called Tatters who loves to entertain,
he wears a whitewashed face with showy greasepaint features:
Tatters, has red balding hair ragged and straggly always,
his nose is red and honks, his outfit baggy and very frilly;
he performs silly antics and blows up balloons for children.
But, that was then- now, his eyes are sad with pain,
his painted on smile cannot hide his frown and great sadness:
his costume is dusty and threadbare and his big shoes not shiny,
once such a funny clown, now his heart and spirit is broken;
his life has no meaning and he hides behind his clown facade.
Tatters, is old now and his bones creak, groan and moan,
and work is hard to find for an aging clown with sad eyes:
seems kids don't like clowns like they used in his younger days,
but, one day a loving God reached out his hand for Tatters;
and now in a Heavenly temple Tatters honks his nose ...
with happy eyes and a big smile!
________________
January 04, 2023
Poetry/Narrative/Tatters
Copyright Protected, ID 01-1514-315
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Tatters
sponsor, Mystic Rose Rose, Judged 01/11/2023
First Place
Rags To Threadbare Tatters...
(a true “FAKE” story
how Mein Kampf - chill as hoary
frost – and totaling lacking glory.)
A woeful disgraceful
cautionary tale stitched
from the barest thread
harkens back half life
of yours truly
comprising a few decades
in the pluperfect past,
when this husband newlywed
living hand to mouth,
when thy wife and me
occupied mine boyhood abode
sharing one kid size bed,
though dwelling under
same roof as parents,
this "pariah" did dread,
cuz prior to getting married
most every day
found me loathing mandates,
yet never fled
duet hoo bing
cowardly, yours truly
blithely endured pa
rant till fulminations,
and litany of"hateful"
broadsides at my head
minor misfortune, sans scant
details barely one
measly paragraph
tenuously stretched,
thus (with all manner
of dogspeed, I fetched
kvetched against restricted
poetic licensed finesse)
to complete
at least one
page (OpenOffice)
word document spread
attempting to convey penury,
but nonetheless I
consider meself
if nothing else
blue tiff lee well red
irrelevant to stand in good stead,
and pertaining to
profession of thespian,
never found me professionally
acting out a scene
neither did I glean,
nor memorized
scripts, thy counter
with applying literary mien
super tramp ping cheap tricks
to convince skeptical readers
"Quod Erat Demonstrandum"
just show up on opening night
when mine break
out character lean
on words since being "green"
behind ears of corn lean
refulgent klieg lights
will shine a light
asthma pantomime
dramatics mean
business and take
thumb page from playbook
portray me as
superb drag queen
when "lights", "camera,"
and "action" called
debut appearance
with stellar broadcasts
in every magazine!
Eyes, silent and soft, a whisper
Falling across so many hearts,
Breathing in affections, singing
Caresses, messages…
Yet filled with melancholy
Doubt and despair, darkness
In clouds of regret, without the
Sparkle of life they had once,
Long ago…
When he was young, filled with
Wonder and inspired…
By the brilliance of the sunrise,
The intimacy of a starry sky,
The music pulsing through the
Rainfall, and the delicate brush of kisses
Easy against a secret, liquid
Like laughter and flowing into
The seas, in colors bold and vibrant
Hues so alive they tremble,
Echoing wonder in hopeful sighs
Eyes, mournful and dejected,
Pain cutting through the heavens,
Abiding within the soul who knows
Even in the painted smile,
The brushed on eyes, the splattered
Dyes faded and worn, in tatters…
A coat that is never warm, but colder
Than the winter storm, like bitterness
Painful and burning through the
Heart who knows that it is the loss
Thrashing inside him, dimming the light
That once kindled his joy, his happiness
It is this cloud that hangs
Across his heart, obscuring hope
With a desperation…
That quiets the glimmers of a
Reflection, both graceful and accepting
The thought of yesterday’s gifts
The love that he lost, the truth he
Never seemed to grasp, the death of his
Bliss, pouring out into seas, oceans
Deep and dark – filled with fear
Dread that seems to settle
Inside his spirit, blending with his
Feelings, becoming a part of him,
So he can surf through the night,
Suffering and enduring the agonizing
Rags of his memories, fleeting
Through a mind tortured with angst
In tatters, Tatters can’t find his way out
From amid the punishment, the past
With its endless doubt, its persecution
And the labored tears that never
Do release him from the grief, the ache
Tatters, the clown, with his painted
On smile and funny garb,
Is just as dead inside as the child
He buried back before he became…
Tatters, the clown!
TATTERS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
January 3, 2023
Morning's oddest clown, like a kangaroo.
With facepaint, torn clothes, and hued patch.
With a crimson nose, he lifted his arms through.
A child-suitable flat crown hairdo for eyes catch.
His frantic boots frightened the youthful face.
Night clown's vibe, comical eyes incite conceit.
Feast out, chairs are dull again and still apace.
Last show in floral gown is to end circus retreat.
Written: January 03, 2023
TATTERS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
I pull on
the
threads
that hold us together
I pick at the seams
that time has
frayed
and
I fear that
our
love will become unravelled
because
due
to the wear and tear
of
our day to
day
troubles
my
needle and thread
will
prick
my fingertips
as my blood
stains its beauty
and
the scissors
Just won't seem to snip
and
the colors have begun to dim
or maybe thats my
eyes
that are losing light
as we speak
I just seem to tug
and
tug
your
sweater
I have got to make this better
and
the material continues to rip
as you
fall further
beneath me
my world shatters
as I am holding our remenant tatters
smaller
the pieces become
as the warmth
of the bright pattern is gone
in my palms
rest
tears mixed with tatters
His clothes were tattered, in vivid shades of red blue & yellow
he wore leatherette shoes blackly polished and gleaming with shine
Red fiery hair that summoned like a fire hydrant and a big fat rubber nose that honked when it was squeezed.
He had a polka dotted hanky that protruded from his well padded suit,
and a kangaroo pocket in which he kept all his most precious belongings.
Aside from the fact that those big blue eyes of his were undeniably sad,
every part of his retinue screamed, "I am funny, I can make you laugh"
People came to the circus to watch his goofy antics and
to forget their worries for a little while. One day while he was blowing up balloons for the children, he died of a massive heart attack.
In heaven the angels took Tatters to the children's room. Sitting on a big shiny
red stool he was asked to make balloons for every child in God's creative nest.
His eyes were never sad again for he knew that here,
he could make a child smile and never grow old, or ever be sad again.
The End.
no more smiles for me
you ~ life broke this loving heart
A frown I must wear
Date Written: 1/5/2023
I once was funny, made most people smile.
Children loved me because they didn't know:
I kept them laughing, yet all of the while,
my heart was aching without loving glow.
A sad-looking smile was best I could show.
My true love left close to our wedding day--
enormous shock and I felt my heart frey.
If life's in tatters, I'll make my smile strong
for children need a clown along the way.
I'll be their sunshine and they'll be my song!
January 2, 2023
for Tatters poetry contest
by Mystic Rose Rose
Dizain