
Jester
These tipped-up lips of wide renown
of the world’s most famous clown
are but pigment and not the man.
We know him not, for no one can.
No one assumes the painful task
of seeing what’s behind the mask.
The cloth that wipes it off each night
brings his true nature into sight,
for painted smiles are thrown away
as truth of night displaces day.
Underneath his painted mask,
he hides the truth we dare not ask.
One more day of tricks and laughter
cannot make up for what comes after.
His face, stripped down to flesh and bone,
reveals that he is all alone.
A painted face, a made-up smile
cannot mend a lover’s guile.
For the dVerse pub prompt.
I can only imagine the sadness of being nothing under a mask…maybe there are many who are jesters…
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I think we all are in varying degrees, Bjorn.
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I think there are always sadness behind the smile of a clown’s mask
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Bjorn, I can’t find a place to contact you on your blog. Do you happen to know what poem or poems I have in the Chiaroscuro Anthology?
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Wonderfully writ! I especially love these lines
“for painted smiles are thrown away
as truth of night displaces day.”
These lines can refer to so many folk who “wear a mask” when with others and then wipe their face clean in the privacy of their own home/room. Food for thought.
So glad you participated in the prompt!
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Nice rhythmic sound.
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Such sadness underneath the mask ~ Enjoyed reading the rhyming verses ~
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So very well done, Judy!
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Many thanks.
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You are welcome!
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I think that’s why so many people don’t like clowns, they feel they are hiding something. The truth is in the eyes — and as Smokey Robinson knew, “in the tears.”
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Wow, that is a fantastic poem! You hit on so many truths!
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I’m always curious about how someone stumbled upon a poem written and published five years ago! Thanks for the comment.
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Was that from that long ago? I didn’t even look at the date!
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I can’t even remember how I got to it!!!!
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