Beneath The Face of A Clown
My mother’s uncle was a circus clown
forever tripping up and falling down.
A circus performer through and through
who would try anything they asked him to.
With a tiny umbrella attached to his hat
and a blonde haired wig under that.
A huge red nose that he honked so loud
always brought a smile from the crowd.
Apart from that he never made a sound,
but the humour button he always found.
He made the most timid of children smile
by sharing his talent for just a little while.
But beneath the face of this funny clown
was one of anguish, sadness, and frown.
A tragic event struck the funny man’s life
whilst performing with a throwing knife.
A hooded assistant attached to a turning wheel;
her shout of okay released the knife of steel.
A gasping audience watched it cut through the air…
yells and cries witnessed the death of her.
A lapse of concentration, a hesitant troubled mind,
an unfortunate twist of fate that was so unkind.
It was then he discovered that his throwing knife
had found the heart of his newly wed wife.
poem by Orlando Belo
Added by Poetry Lover
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