Short Clownish Poems
Short Clownish Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Clownish by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Clownish by length and keyword.
Clownish yaw engines
Spin us about
The blue sphere we inhabit
Its future in doubt
Our cumulus cloud shroud
Conceals the pain
Of tanks, missiles and pogroms
And unburied slain
Like a 70-year-old bow-legged harlot, jealousy never ages well.
Every year the mascara is painted on thicker.
Every year, less of that peacock strut
Every year, more pigeon steps.
No more virgin revelations.
Only clownish mumblings from the pen...
A discarded dried-up turd to the bitter end.
all stars that bright doth beam
doth not always a-right accord
that moderate terminal destiny;
routes there be craft-fill'd & thorny
but shaft-fill'd with the happy soft ending
clownish & whimsical as ‘tis doomful;
o moderation oft maketh abortive
a warfare’s line of battle at the hottest
angle that would take its foe’s roots.
Form:
Looking into a mirror at
That person staring back at you
Is not what other people see.
What you perceive is a minds-eye
Aspect of a parallel clone-
An apparition in a realm
Manifested by your ego.
You look into its soulless eyes
That blinks a lifeless mimicry;
And what you think you see is not
On your side of the looking glass.
You conjure up the counterfeit-
A clownish mask- then masquerade
Not fooling nary one of us.
A pufferfish is soft, roundish, and sluggish.
Some even say slightly clownish.
Seemingly an easy target...
But when provoked, it puffs up and flashes a set of sharp spines.
If engulfed, it'll stick in the throat of its aggressor.
It's also highly toxic.
When predators attempt to cancel it,
they'll most likely die in the process.
If you haven't noticed, pufferfish are popping up everywhere.
Sometimes I see a hint of a pufferfish in the mirror.
House turns into brothel today, near and dear seems prostitute
glory of saree has lost in clownish luxury, lost their gentle look.
Facebook and Messenger continue to serve them freely thereon
dating, chatting and adultery shows barbarian prostitution.
How will they open cloths! If there any cloth on the breast!
pussy is open without pounds! for rice only prostitute try their best.
N.B. This is the translated form of one of my poetry written in Bengali language.
I take my identity masks out
not willy nilly but with purpose
wearing the right ones for the right people
the one I wear with my husband is
frilly, a bit silly, with lace
there is red satin and a bit of tease
the one I wear at work is soft,
with a compliant deer,
nonthreatening, helpful
the one I wear with my sister
is clownish with stripes and polka dots
made of fluorescent colors
the one I wear with my neighbors is green
encouraging, uplifting, with a touch of hope