Friday, September 5, 2014

Sad Clown







The tears of a clown
Are all that is left
Of a gift given
Only to be left fallow.

Were you afraid?
Did the lust of a fling
Make you feel so damaged
You couldn't return?

Fifty years
Since you took up brush and oil.
Or the chisel
Or even the crochet needle.

Years spent chasing money
And false affection.
Men who cheated you
And those you cheated.

Now it is over
Found alone in a high rise.
With your hoarded belongings
Your only friends.  


Photo (c) Christopher H.Mitchell 2014
Painting (c) Marilyn E Mitchell 1964

6 comments:

  1. For some reason this popped up in my stream on Facebook. Never knew of your loss then, my condolences. Such a powerful poem

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    1. Thank you. The reason it is up is today would have been Marilyn's 70th birthday.

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