Meet The Clowns
The clowns wear their hearts on their sleeve.
They have no secrets to keep.
The painted smiles on their faces
a badge of war wounds,
fought & won in strange places.
Outside of the tent,
the clowns pretend
to be their own masters.
The clowns weave their tunes
from life’s leftover spools.
Comic trickery
Outstanding foolery
Implausible tragedy
(These are all the tricks of the trade.)
No words escape their lips
No salutations
No handkerchiefs thrown to mark defeat.
The clowns simply play their instruments,
and cast their brand of magic,
that make the children smile
& the grown men shake their heads
in remembrance of the things their
fathers said to them when they
were little.
Perhaps this life
doesn’t pick sides;
but chooses to hide
inside of the tent,
its most precious parts.
Satisfied that the clowns
will guard its light,
with their hearts.
So it’s no wonder at all
that the clowns can make
fun of themselves.
Laugh when they’re sad.
Even ride a bike,
while the ring leader
grabs all the cheers
from the crowd.
The clowns are life’s amateur soothsayers,
clad in mismatching striped suits
& giant rubber pink flippers.
The clowns can put your sadness to shame.
Which is their number one claim to fame.
Perhaps the clowns,
will one of these days,
unmask the unbelievable truth;
that there simply is no tragedy,
that a green wig & a big, shiny,
red nose can’t fix.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I would secretly love to hear a reading of this! :)
