Tears Of A Clown
The tears of a clown
Are shed alone,
Each teardrop running on its own.
The tears love the dark places lined with stone.
They say life is hard,
Yes, indeed, it is for the child in a man
The child is the joker on the card
And the man right behind wearing deadpan.
The clown’s tears are galled honey,
Hard to get and hard to end.
They laugh at the death of the man’s conscience,
And poke fun at the loss of the child’s innocence.
The tears of the clown reside in the dark,
Spiting him, leaving him hurt and stark.
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Comments about this poem (Tears Of A Clown by Oke Christopher )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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Edgar Albert Guest
(20 August 1881 - 5 August 1959)
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