Clown Poems - Poems about Clown

There is anger raging in my heart. A stone lodged deep within my chest. Some days it swells into a boulder, others, it dwindles to a pebble. Yet I don’t know which is worse. It is built from your cruel words, wrapped tight in your selfish acts. Your name is etched deep within it, and...

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I wake up swinging, fists in the air, Wrestling my dreams like they just don’t care. Life’s a rodeo, I hold on tight, Riding chaos like a bull in flight. --- The ghetto’s my kingdom, the concrete's my throne, Dodging pigeons like they're throwing stones. Sirens sing me lullabies at...

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I am a circus freak— collar popped, polka dots. You throw apples and boo; I hate all of you too. I’m not bothered, though. One day, I’ll start a revolution and set fire to this whole place. You see me as a freak; I see myself as one of you elites— three-piece suit, walking cane. I’m going to dismantle the aristocracy internally. Join the cause or die. ...

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Melancholy thoughts surround me, as I gaze into the galaxy. Tonight the moon casts deepest shadows over me. The universe encompasses so much of your energy, As I gaze into the galaxy, melancholy thoughts surround me. We were always together you and me, I the clown, you so wise. The twinkling stars remind me of your bright eyes. I...

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There once was a clown who paraded around town he thought the world of himself and liked everything to be top shelf He bought himself a mannequin he married her no panickin' soon his humour was delirious his motives as mysterious He found himself a throne and claimed it as his own he put a crown upon his stead to cover his bald head He started waving...

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At times I’m morose a smile plastered to my face ~ a clown hides in me ...

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Is my life a toy, tossed in the hands of fate? Pulled apart by cruelty, yet I refuse to break. If not vindictive, then why this cold disdain? Am I merely dust beneath your twisted game? You cast me aside like whispers in the wind, Unseen, unheard, dismissed without regret....

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Yesterday is gone Today to run Tomorrow will wait also to smile at the veteran mocker or the jubilant joker. ...

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suddenly from somewhere a street urchin an untamed bird of the wider sky dropped down into the circus tent. before him unfurled, scenes eerie, awesome! soaring 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 with beasts and men! his face painted white. in...

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Against a willowy wailing backdrop of inner chaos, an indignant incendiary mask stifles the simmering cauldrons, of a stoic stage clown post lachrymose performance wearily stunning yet stung, or the surreptitious posture of the laugh it off as mediocre bypass, iron clad ruthless repression of bone rattle indignation a seeker of impoverished aperture, whilst many can manage to laugh through...

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"Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first." - quote by Mark Twain ----------------------------------------------------------- Being poor is not romantic Hunger has no eyes, no vision Soul boils without, within, unfelt Neglected health devaluates Dignity, respect takes back seats Pity is a sharp stab in gut Working up to life, to find...

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So few will ever see A clown’s sorrowful tears His hopes, his dreams, his fears Hidden so expertly Can it ever be known A clown’s most cherished thoughts His soul, tangled in knots To us is never shown He lives but to perform He seeks that center stage The actor’s gilded cage He covets as the norm It’s heavenly to him To make the people smile And laugh for...

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Don't let the painted layers that were made to make up , stop you from questioning the feelings behind their costumes and gown. The slightest smudging, by which sympathetic fingers smear, unmasks fear, and an underlying frown At the end of every day, when curtains close and the lights die down. Floodgated tears emerge, from...

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The spotlight flashes with a funny flair on the sagged dress of a meek man on stage. A miniature crimson cold sun shines stuck on his puckered porcelain face of forced smile. An animated caricature captured in the frame of a comical frail figure, tramps in inertia round and round the circus arena to amuse awhile....

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He glances ‘round the crowded room, Where laughter sparks and joy resumes. He plays along, a practiced mime— Lifts his lips, but not in time. For somewhere deep, his mind has flown, His soul long gone, he stands alone. What’s left behind, a hollow frame— A shadowed man without a name. And oh, You cannot feign what isn’t true. So smiles, like paint, began to...

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