The Unhappy Clown By Bronwyn Ellis

A glance at his reflection before painting on his face, His scarlet smile stretched wide across a pure white, pallid base, The gaudy stripes of colour worn in contrast to his frown, A teardrop in the cornflakes from this poor and saddened clown, A lifetime making others laugh makes humour seem so tragic, The repetitious magic tricks had somewhat lost their magic, Balloons transformed to animals before the children's eyes, Had now become as tedious as throwing custard pies, The doc prescribed him tablets to be taken every hour, They took the edge off living and kept water in his flower, But nothing now could ever change the truth could not be plainer, This broken man must live and die a children's entertainer, So after work he'd change his clothes and shuffle to the pub, The beer as sour as his life had never done him good, He'd drink till skies were graced with dark and all his funds grew thinner, He'd sip his dregs then trundle home to eat his TV dinner, But one day he was late for work and hadn't called in sick, No big red nose no vivid clothes and not one magic trick, But word spread of an accident the other side of town, A man committing suicide and dressed up like a clown, The papers headlined all the news about his tragic end, How working as a children's clown had sent him round the bend, A troubled life, a troubled mind a pain he'd never heal, Now just a pair of big red shoes stuck out beneath a wheel.

Copyright ©2009  Bronwyn Ellis

This poem can also be read on iPoetry, the poetry app for the iphone/ipod touch available on the Apple iTunes App Store.

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