Short Harlequins Poems

Tears embedded
  three ring delight
Star-crossed harlequins 
pigmented fright
Echoes of laughter
masking false smiles
Greasepainted fantasy
—clowns in denial

(The New Room: July, 2022)...

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Crows gather
in beacons of Blackness
Any subterfuge of despair
marvels their flight
A curfew is needed
for their sorceress

They are the harlequins of the night
on a mindful mission
of sequined tricks...

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The hounds are baying
my hand trembles
I take a whisky to calm my nerves
The rain relaints
My tears  have a glint
The fate I sought
has vanished in the haze
I rise my tune
and sweetly sing my time
as the harlequins lurch 
somedays soon...

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Secluded in  the last visages
millenium wine washed down by punters
Pinch pockets stare sideways
Spot like eyes
being close with lilly eyed iwallets
A figurative disguise turning blase
The servant drums dance
Harlequins of night mass parade
winding seawards
worshiping the pipers
who have to be paid...

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flaking paint
on peeling buildings
throws
clock fingers
through the last plumes of yesterday
Argus stained waiters
Gargoyles chewing on cigars
Smile till swede
Worshiping the harlequins
Sailors with denim eyes
velvet dolls with braided  smiles
worshiping the dreams of night
and the Serpentine dulls grey, disowned...

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The last vestige of light
silently lingers
with the revillers drunk and blase

Stained windows
empty yesterdays hopes
Socceresses and velvet dolls
only offer their smiles

As the dancers kick like harlequins
your tears are gilded
Questions are divine
mourning for lost friends
Waiting for the sun
as the tapers pass by
...

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The Harlequins of the night
languish their last aura 
Lilly eyed clowns await
commissioners bleed into tweed
Rivillers  errantly play drums
Damsels failing in their appeal
Adventurers sent back
Running on empty
the night people slide in between

Those old sinners head for the valleys
backing their wasted years 
No prayers are said, just the orbital of silence...

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Of course, a clown
is always clowning
as poets paint their write -- 
before with pen and ink

dip we nibs wells of performance

transforming dark ink
to colorful spectacle in showtime
spot of light -- like the pancake 

our many harlequins, 

like Arora, a rainbow
after cloudburst
real tears or daisy squirt?

we apply our big-top makeup

to cover-up and hide

otherwise unmanageable crowds

of deeply incised hurt --...

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The color wheel spins
 in the month of May
 with every shade of green on display.

The moss mixes in dark spring emerald spreads
 avocado ferns feathering asparagus sea breeze heads,
 Erin kelly limes flash neon harlequins in the air

Grass lawn malachites sway a chartreuse pear glint
 olive jaded myrtles mix in mantis mints
 flow with sea-green pine shamrock tints.

All spinning 
 on the scene
 with the color wheels of green....

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Cigar but no cigar
extinguished by the elders
Gaslighting commissioners held in tweed
The night people slide in between

Pouring light
velvet dolls
play with their own discord
electric spears happenstance
pale Harlequins of the night
scratch their gilded fears

outstretched hands
that jabs the line
of ghost trains

Stacked chips
sequined starlets shinge
Rhinestone streakers parade
paying homage
to pipers never paid
who snort energy in spoons...

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Surrounded by gold Lustre
Old Clock chiming
extinguished the last vestiges
of the day
streets laying bleeding
the venom pliable
The last revillers
dressed in tweed
their  wanna be yesterdays
slide in between


Dance Hall
the harlequins of the night
scratch ones gilded fears

Paint peeling
lonely Moths
lost archways


Gargoyles point singular finger
Rhinestone cowboys
worship the jaws of the night
Laughing  girls sing lonely tunes
Its 4 O'clock
welcome grey dawn


...

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