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.

The epic nature of the the work necessitates dividing it into four postings. 


Part 1 - Tragic beginnings and the Livid Storm
Part 2 - The Carnival is Dead
Part 3 - The Clown and Robert Johnson
Part 4 - The Angel and the Greatest Show on Earth 

 

1

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.

2

The wind is roaring and the sails they crack

as the ship is going down.

He protects his girl from the waves’ attack

shouting,

“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.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Is this the end for our poor Clown?

Is there any hope ahead?

Click here for part two of the story.