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Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Another clown poem


The clowns! The clowns!
How they come always around
When the weather is angry
And the sun long gone down

Taunting at my plated windows
With their wrapping on it’s glass
Under cover's quilting, I hide
In heaven's hopes, it will pass

With a knock knock
And some tap tap taps,
Each of them pull trinkets
From beneath colored caps

The fat one bears flowers
Big orange and fat red
Pointing it smiling, he squeezes
Petals wilting, soon dead

The thin one brings to you a doll
With one eye knocked clear out
From the socket, crawl maggots
Begging to enter fresh lipped pout

And lastly, is the tall one
Whose head is bald and grey
He tosses worms at the window
Warm and sticky, yearning to play

The clowns! The clowns!
When they come back around
Someone always comes up missing
Never again to be found

Only through the long winter
Dancing bone crazy in the rain
They gnash all about madly
Whispering softly my name
-AP/MH 08-22-06

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I know where you got that last stanza. Heheh.