Clowns Poem by Francie Lynch

Where are our clowns
With baggy waist-coats
Filled with promises;
Clowns wearing
Borrowed crowns.

One plucks a rose
In his white garden,
To pin on his lapel;
He's a squirter
And it shows.

One's in the square
With large red shoes
Putting on a show.
But feet don't fit,
Soon he'll trip
With tongue-in-cheek ego.

One has rhine-red ruffs
Around her neck,
Her GNP
Surpasses debt;
Her audience finds
They too get wet.
A three-ringed circus
We're wise to regret.

One in the Yuan
Has a red nose on,
A harlequin clown
Asleep in red dawn.
But tweak his nose
And the tent comes down
On the Big Top Shows.