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Nikkie Jan 2021
You can be anything you want to be; a clown, a lover, a serial killer, a tarot card reader, a musician who likes to eat pickles. You can be a prized fighter who falls in love with love itself. When you read you can be anything, and I do mean anything. But when you write.....you can see what's happening in front of you, you can be the night sky, in the twinkling eye of the child when she is being read your bedtime story. Put yourself in my place, when I am writing I close my eyes and the story that wants to come out is vividly clear in front of me. It's amazing what words can do when the right ones are put together: time stood still when you looked at me. I felt what you didn't say, I felt what you were gonna say. You smell so good, I can't wait for you to.....You know....It's all good, I know you feel it too, if this is just my imagination, I need to stop drinking so much coffee, the caffeine is starting to get to me.
Jonathan Black Jan 2021
On tabletops and in bathroom stalls, his audience he does
astound
A dazzling show for one and all, his talents know no
bound.

They call him Pierrot
He himself he does not know.

Toss him your rotted fruit; he graciously will
eat
Sickness but paltry price; to grovel at your
feet.

They call him Pierrot
He himself wish it were not so.


For your gold and silver, earnestly not he
plead
To bathe solely in your veneration, gladly he’d
bleed.

They call him Pierrot
He himself pulled undertow.


A shield of alabaster betrays a scarlet
face
A gleaming retort to innermost dis-
grace.

They call him Pierrot
He himself no arrow nor bow.

His grossest corruption, that which he does
imbibe
For one more day, to lucifer, he offers a
bribe.

They call him Pierrot
He himself fodder for the crow.

In the Abby his copper chalice he does
fill
Desperate panhandler imploring of you good
will.

They call him Pierrot
He himself unrisen dough.


Oh to drink and guzzle your sympathy, such
chance
For taste of your tepid affection, evermore he’ll
dance.

They call him Pierrot
He himself a blemish in snow.


But when the poison seeps from his
head
And those of conscience sleep soundly in
bed
He will look upon the mirror with bated
breath
And to the man he recognises not wish for
death

The call him Pierrot
He himself pleads you: ‘Don’t go’.
Carmen Jane Dec 2020
Some say the wind blew sand in their eyes
Yet the wind just said hello to the beaches
The ocean was jealous and it raged in waves
All wondered what does this moment teach

They say the wind was mistreated as well
On many occasions, they had observed
But they only were brave to mention it now
How the wind was called a loser, a clown!

There on the shore, there’s this person, a clown
His mouth always smiling, his eyes shed some tears
He tried his best to cheer you, yet all you did was frown
Your words, fools, put anchors on him, now he fears...
ManxPoetryGuy Nov 2020
Life is a circus,
And the bigtop is nowhere
To be found.
Life’s kinda funny if you think about it
Bhill Sep 2020
you’ll be back, I guarantee
you can’t stay away that long from me
I've been there when you were down
I've been there when you were such a clown
we have been friends for very long time
how could you leave when we were in our prime
where did you go, I don't even know
all I know is that I couldn't grow
please come back and show me the way
I need to have a good ole day
I need you back and close to me
you've been gone too long, I hope you agree...

Brian Hill - 2020 # 251
Slime-God Sep 2020
A bitter dispute,
I just yelled at my neighbour
And called him a clown
Zeena Miedema Aug 2020
Last night I went to a closed down circus in the city.
A sad clown came up to me.
He kissed me till I had his red lips.
A kiss from a clown is so bold and bright red.
After that you cannot possibly look sad.

So I will go back another night to see if he would be there again.
In my dream later he tells me that this was something between me and him.
Next time bring your tutu dress and I will wear my best suit.
We'll be dancing all night and I'll promise to make your lips bright red.

As I write it all down after last night I hear the neighbours wake up too.
I paint my eyes like his eyes, at least I try to.
But I can't seem to get it right.
So what will I do about tonight?
I shed a little tear, I feel so helpless.
But then I notice it looks good now and I put on the tutu dress.

I take a bus to the city and stare somewhere.
The sad clown must be already waiting there.
At the empty circus.
To give me a clowny kiss.
Only his.

I call for him as I pass the entrance.
Sad clown, sad clown, I'm here for romance.
And so we dance.
Like it's the last night.
It will be the last night...
Red lips, red stains, red, all red, red red, pain.
Don't leave me bleeding, but he goes running as I am dying.
10-08-20
Bhill Aug 2020
who set the temperance in the square-faced clown
he was dancing and strolling and roaming around
he was scary, he was strange, he was really quite large
no one knew how he got there but he came out in charge
his hair was was chaotic, his skin an orange hue
he wanted to tell stories, all of which were not true
his stay should be over, in that fact we hope
the square-faced clown, it appears is a hoax....

Brian Hill - 2020 # 210
Thoughts...?
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