After the bedlam of the circus ends
Forensic analysis must begin
Upon fleecing the rubes, our life depends
Did we, to each face, bring a happy grin?
With a cigarette and a glass of wine
The sorry soul of a clown can be soothed
Strangers might find my strange garb asinine
But by a sad joke, the mood can be smoothed
Making others laugh can warm one's own heart
If the ludic circuit is closed and warm
But if one is laughed at, fond thoughts depart
Even a willing sacrifice feels harm
Under the maquillage, mad and mocking
Gloomy resentment is slowly stalking
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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Comments (7)
Even the clown cries sometimes. Well done.
I like how you shows the contrast between the joy clowns bring to others and the sadness they often hide. It’s a nice reminder that sometimes the people who make us laugh are struggling too.
Thus my fear of clowns and mascots...Wonderfully wrought, D.J.! Had to look up "maquillage" so thank you for a great read and vocabulary lesson!
This was so poignant. Ludic was a new word for me. Loved your poem. Also, I miss your "i" jokes hahahahhahhhaha
This was stunning, DJ! Love your poem! 🌟💌
It’s a poignant reminder that even those who bring joy often carry their own hidden weight. Deeply moving and thought-provoking!
"Even a willing sacrifice feels harm." Ain't that the truth. Beautifully done again, DJ. 💕