The Clown, Poetry by Arnab Dey

Genre: Existential, War, Crime, Dark

The Clown
by Arnab Dey

As the clown entered,
Everybody laughed and clapped,
And then he started his antics,
And people were laughing hysterically,
What is they’re laughing so hard about?
Is it his idiosyncrasies?
His oddly shaped figure?
Or his pennilessness?
What is it, sir?
What time is it?
Is it dawn yet?
It’s time to go to the dock,
Will be doing an extra shift today,
’cause kids need new shoes,
It’s about dusk now,
Sun is setting over the church bell,
And the sky is going crimson to orange felt.

Again faces would be painted,
Costumes would be worn,
Antics would be performed,
What if trapeze throw him out of the net!
What if he stumbled upon the fire ring!
Thinking thus he went deep into an unknown alley,

Walls were darker,
Roads were dirtier,
No pavements existed,
No man, no cart, no man in the cart were seen,
Where are those snooty rich people? He mumbled,
Is it heaven? or just a slum?
Am I dead already? He mumbled again.

Sun shone right upon his face,
Woke up to find himself in his own torn tent,
There was a distant smoke,
And gunpowder took over the senses,
Startled by too many loud thuds,
Boom! Wrath of God started striking relentlessly.

Even though his antics will eventually be fading,
He’ll laugh his way off,
While the whole city’s been set ablaze.

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