POETRY                                                                                               (Copyright - Pierre du Toit)
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                                      The Great Clown             

 
                                     
A lobby of satin
                                      perfume and smoke
                                      laughter which cuts
                                      the sherry in glasses and coffee
                                      held high above bodies
                                      as shoulders touch backs
                                      and programmes are rolled
                                      below bright chandeliers
                                      the ringing of bells
                                      cigarettes hiss from buckets
                                      they stream through the doors
                                      and pull in their knees
                                      mumble excuses
                                      and settle with whispers
                                      or fumble with sweets
                                      a beam pierces darkness
                                      a circle
                                      on curtains which rise...
                                      it dances an instant
                                      a vast empty stage
                                      before
                                      - to applause -

                                      …the Great Clown appears

                                      his nose is grotesque
                                      his mouth is blood red
                                      his oval white eyes
                                      run straight up and down
                                      he puts out a hand
                                      and, lifting his hat,
                                      commences to shuffle
                                      to talk and to sing
                                      to fall and foretell
                                      and to die and to rise
                                      and to ring a small bell
                                      till faster and faster
                                      his show gathers speed
                                      as he's carried on wave
                                      upon wave of their laughter
                                      and then he slows down
                                      softer and softer
                                      and right at the end
                                      in a near holy hush
                                      he stands in the centre
                                      his chin on his chest
                                      a theatrical tear
                                      in the paint on his mask

                                      ...the Great Clown is gone

                                      The dim lights come on.
                                      They turn to the night.
                                      Their noses grotesque.
                                      Their mouths are blood red.
                                      Their oval white eyes
                                      run straight up and down


                                                                                                                               
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