Mime Poems

Gravity's Mime

Rising
by sin
falling
by virtue
Caught in the
blind spot
of destiny’s
rhyme

Words
overweight
in consonant
sorrow
Vowels
deftly stolen
inverting
— the time

(Cooke City Montana: August, 2025) 

MIME

The owner's ten-story building
Rises up, whooshing, growing vast.
While the worker's humble two-sloped roof
Erodes and wastes in the wind's fierce blast.

Limerick

there was a young lass named Mame
who thought she was headed for fame
she wanted to be a mime
but ran out of time
she talked too much and had only herself to blame

Questioned from a Mime

Writing this poem was an uphill climb
I wanted it to be rather sublime
Did not expect to make a slim dime
Took a second to cut up my lime

It was tasty, straight from the brime
What do you have? Asked a friendly mime
Nothing much I lied, just a little slime
Time to rhyme said the mime; time to rhyme

The Mime Learns to Speak

In a room stitched with silence,
she stands—face painted, lips sealed—
mirroring worlds with invisible walls,
a language of gestures no one translates.

Here, speech is a fragile rebellion.
Her fingers sculpt stories midair,
but the crowd wants laughter without edges,
pantomime without questions.

She remembers classrooms—
words trapped in chalk dust,
voices pressing her into corners
too tight for dreams to unfold.

But tonight, her throat

A Clown, A King and A Mime

A clown with a frown was talking to a king with a crown, when a mime happened by, and mimed to them, “What’s the quickest way out of town?”

The king said to the mime “To catch a train, be on time.” And the clown laughed at the king, and it began to rain

The mime grabbed

Destiny's Mime

He wanted to be
around clowns
but never wanted
to be happy
He wanted to write
 great melodies
never wanting
to sing
He wanted to stand
on the mountaintop
but never wanted
to fly
He wanted to read
every book
never wanting 
to speak

He walked in
the twilight 
of tragedy’s 
sunset
He loved several
women
only after
they were gone
He called to
his dog
who was stuffed
in the parlor
He answered
every question
that couldn’t
— be asked

(Dreamsleep: August,

Bob The Mime Who Was Ever Silent

I knew a mime who was ever silent
One of the many who were licensed
        Hit his toe doing his act
        Felt so much pain that he quacked
The city took away his mime license

Yes! knew this mime who was ever silent
He boarded

Pleasure and pain in mime

Time there’s I can’t sleep,
Or not want to at odd times,
If I dwell nigh deep,
I’d find that it all well rhymes,
The duo in pantomimes!   

Pain lets me not sleep,
In pleasure I wish not to
In hope more to reap,
From me is taken a clue
If it shows red or green hue.

Take a friend or foe,

The Itch To Bring Off a Crime

Let me my audience a bit corrupt,
My peaceful society dare disrupt,
Protests by The Righteous erupt
From fears one might The Taught adopt!

If the itch is to bring off crime,
Then feel this other itch of Time;
I tell you vital 'timing crime'
You become slippery like slime
And doubly able to peaks climb,
Never at the mercy of clime...

Rogues who time

Winter Mime Time

silence befalls the play in winter's hall
birds stalled, stage-struck, do not call
trees with naked branches mime their lines
with no clothes their nakedness much maligns

dawn's curtain call has lights subdued
the scene is shrouded in dark hues, grey imbued
all is dank, cold and clammy with frowning faces
on the play's cast, struck dumb in their places.

the birds and

Meeting the Mime

A mime is supersensitive
He hears things others miss
He observes subtle nuances
I watched this one

He seemed to be on our wavelength
He communicated with us better than speakers often do
I watched him turn his face slightly
Whatever he seemed to be hearing was apparently a clue

We were happy to meet him and thanked him.
He had a genuine smile.
I

Heart of Kapilavasthu

Mimetic mimicry mimicked the mime.
More than furlong, the entire belonging day long.
Prophet, the proper property, pope prophecy.
Hardhearted harshness tied a fair harness.
Shepherd herding sheep, harder in a herder way.

Magical Mime

The moon and the stars bide their time 
Mute mimics in Mother Nature's mime
The sun shines brighter as they watch 
Hoping their light will go up a notch 
The woods look inviting, shaded and green 
Birds twitter happily behind the scene
Animals prowl about in a hunter's game 
Near the roaring river in a picturesque frame

The Harlequin

Marceau leans on air.
His ethereal stage, a muse.
Walls and limits come and go.

Rubber, his body
knowing what it wants. 
His muscle’s tale born
in luster under polished light.

Each spectator becomes a believer,
each observer willingly accepts,
how hands make intangible dimensions,
how legs scale vaporous stairways.
You should never ask what they saw.

This myth maker made by
his allegory.
This illusion maker made

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