The Clown

The Clown
by Carl Josehart

Looking out from behind a grease-paint smile
Are eyes too world weary to weep and too cynical to grin
So joyfully he plays at living his life
Always pleasing the crowd – always feeling the price

Hidden behind a façade of laughter
Are ears turned deaf for want of being whispered to
So playfully he talks to each and everyone
Telling jokes – bringing laughter to those he meets

Buried beneath his silly padded clothes
Is skin grown tough – screening all the feeling out
So whimsically he tumbles as falls
Hurting less when he feels nothing at all

Locked away inside a red button nose
Are nostrils still longing for the scent of sweet perfume
While he mimics inhaling the aroma of a paper bouquet
Produced as if by magic – then given away

Lying dormant within his mouth
Is a tongue fast asleep from the banality of his daily fare
His world is cotton candy and caramel corn – all sickly sweet
Never having tasted the richness of life’s flavors, he is not nourished when he eats


by Carl Josehart

good friend
and travelers all
those who voyage long and far
and delve into missions of the mind
distant lands
brave journeys
adventurers just and true

Travel well
dear friend
Dulcinea awakes in the dreams
of a lover’s head
and sees beauty and poetry
where life leaves ruin and rags

Search for the Holy Grail
if you will
while I tilt at windmills
and think of you
Dulcinea to my Quixote
you’ll tread on solid ground
while I go adventuring on a cloud of dreams

Xanadu, Camelot
and Mt. Olympus
through your imagination
will chart your next adventure

While Pompeii
lies beneath the rubble
of our daily grind
buried beauty
frozen beneath the ash of
tragic disillusionment
testimony to an
era of possibility
born like the phoenix
out of the ashes of despair

peace and safety too
follow you
protect and bring you comfort
and you home at journey’s end
good spirits
fair weather
and a true compass
to point toward the future
and back
if needed

Godspeed good friend