Thursday, 8 September 2011

The Clown and the New World

This is a poem inspired by the two Calliopes, the Carnival steam organ and the muse of epic poetry.

In the faraway land of Hayastan,
unfamiliar to the unschooled man,
beneath the mountain that once was
the port for Noah’s Ark,
lived a man that made a life as
a clown, in a circus park.
But there are no laughs in his caravan,
Life is hard for this poor man,
awaiting Death to take his wife,
one of two loves in his life.
Filled with grief the clown he saw
his wife wasting away,
but knew that there had to be
meaning in all dismay.
The horrid symptoms of consumption
was God’s will, was his asumption.
His other love, his little girl,
became motherless in this world.
The Clown took the death to mean
that it was time for change.
He thought perhaps the best would be
to board a boat to somewhere strange.
But his landlocked country had no shores
he had to journey to the ship.
He packed his case and prepared
his daughter for the trip.

He couldn’t wander west,
through Anatolia.
For there they slew his country men,
he would go through Georgia.
He traveled long and he traveled far
Out to the dark Black Sea.
He boarded a vessel that would sail
To the New World filled with glee.

They sailed through the Bosperus strait
Where he thaught his girl to fasten bait.
They stopped a day on the isle of Malta
then journeyed past the rock of Gibraltar.

They’d sailed far out on the open sea,
no land had been in sight
when a livid storm hit their ship
in the dead of night.

The wind is roaring and the sails they crack
as the ship is going down.
He protects his girl from the waves’ attack
“I will not let you drown.”
But the sea is strong and it’s liquid arms
they are so full of force.
The drowning clown is willful, but weak.
You can never keep back anything
the ocean wants, of course,
but the father refuses to give up,
though life is bleak.
They draw their breath
and pray that they wont die
as the tired father treads the sea
and tries to hold her high.
He tells her
“It will all be good,”
but he knows it is a lie.

His legs they burn in the icy sea,
the painful fear and agony
tears at the poor clowns soul.
He’s clinging to his faith of old
“Please save me lord above,
take me please, and let her live,
my only little love.”
Nothing changes
God does not appear to hear.
“Why should God tear my child from me?
take innocent life at whim?”
He spits and coughs,
barely managing to swim.
He knows that the Almighty’s plan
is inscrutable to man.
There is no way a mortal can
begin to understand.
But he knows his own girls’ heart is pure,
she’s a beaming innocent.
“Please My Lord don’t drown her dead
I promise I’ll repent.
I’ll stop this silly life of mine
the constant sheer frivolity.
Please God, I beg you Lord
let her escape mortality
So many of your church men said
That only sin and devils work
With circus and laughs is spread
I thought them wrong I couldn’t see
That you were only testing me
to not trust my own head.
A little child so young and weak,
how could you in your wisdom seek
such havoc for the meek.”

He needs a rest so desperately
but the storm is blowing ceaselessly.
With his girl’s arms around his neck
Like an anchor from a ship,
She shouts into his dripping ear
with diction like a whip
“Please strong father hold me fast.
I can not even see the mast!
How can we sail to the New World
without even a boat?”
He smiles to calm his little girl
Whilst struggling to float.

With his last remaining strength
He takes his necklace of his head
It has always kept him safe
And promised hope ahead
Now he wants his girl to have
all his hope instead.
It sparkles as the lightening flash
and shortly lights the dark.
It is a golden recreation
of Noah’s Ark.
And how it hurts his soul to see
this symbol of a boat
That saved each living thing
by keeping them afloat.
He prays again to his Lord God
“Please send an Ark for me,
I can not hold her anymore
please end this misery.”

But nothing comes
and the storm it blows,
blows on and on and on.
His legs is lame
and he knows,
that the sea has won.

As the father cries tears of blood
and trembles with fatigue
The ocean waves come crashing in
and finally end the siege.
It grabs them both
and tear and tear,
and tear and tear apart.
No stronger love was fought unbound
in ocean or on solid ground.

So finally the moment comes
when he no longer can hold on
As she slips out of his grip
he sees her as a swan.
The clown he isn’t strong enough
to hold his little girl.
Their fingers part, she’s drifting off
he thinks he hears her cough.
In his mind his cygnet love
swims on to a better place
it brakes his heart to look upon
her little drowning face.
“Why do you deem it time,” he screams,
but God does not retort
All his strife has come to naught
Little hope remains for him,
it all seems rather grim.
He wishes to go to God as well,
so he doesn’t swim.

Is this the end for our poor Clown?
Is there any hope ahead?
Click here for part two of the story.

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