Select winners will
receive Mark Ryden's
limited edition
book "Blood."
The Tragic Clown
Rating : 3
The tragic clown, he does not weep
The weighted pain, his own to keep.
As I stare upon his face
No speck nor glisten, not a trace;
Tear that yearns to fall down fast
Buried somewhere in the past.
Misfortune his heavy cross to bare,
Never one to forget or share.
Moving forward, new crowd to please,
Dancing tricks, black hats of fleece.
Young and old stop and stare
Pleasantries only welcome there.
What a show, a true delight;
Can not be he cries at night.
Flashy teeth and colored balls,
Do they know eyes tell all?
Hands move fast, quite a blur,
Keep them focused, must be sure.
Cards are shuffled, hands are dealt,
Through it all no pain is felt.
Curtain closes, voices loud,
Clapping hands, oh so proud.
He bows his head, must not cry.
Must give tomorrow another try.
Rating : 3
The tragic clown, he does not weep
The weighted pain, his own to keep.
As I stare upon his face
No speck nor glisten, not a trace;
Tear that yearns to fall down fast
Buried somewhere in the past.
Misfortune his heavy cross to bare,
Never one to forget or share.
Moving forward, new crowd to please,
Dancing tricks, black hats of fleece.
Young and old stop and stare
Pleasantries only welcome there.
What a show, a true delight;
Can not be he cries at night.
Flashy teeth and colored balls,
Do they know eyes tell all?
Hands move fast, quite a blur,
Keep them focused, must be sure.
Cards are shuffled, hands are dealt,
Through it all no pain is felt.
Curtain closes, voices loud,
Clapping hands, oh so proud.
He bows his head, must not cry.
Must give tomorrow another try.