The Clown

[sundarramchand]

Face covered with thick paint and grease,
covering layers of hurt,
He sits, as if in degradation,
Ashes within and without,
Victim or violator of our layered onion-skinned sensibilities,
probing beneath our mask of concern
and beneath that another mask of indifference
Hiding the essentially vulnerable / fragile "self"

Suddenly a woman arrives
Clad like an Amazon warrior or
the proverbial "knight"
Coming to the rescue of a damsel
She hugs him and embraces him warmly
Colors run down the man's face
The aftermath of the cathartic storm of emotions
He is now like a dancer or mime artist
with the paint reinforcing not masking emotion
Coal transforming into diamonds
Cosmic dust to Stars
The eternal journey continues

[hillwalker]

I enjoyed the first stanza (although it's a little pedantic towards the end). You begin by describing the clown hiding behind his painted-on smile. But then you start making statements about our sensibilities - and all that did was take me out of the poem. The onion-skin metaphor is good but you fail to make effective use of it because suddenly the clown is no longer visible. You're blatantly philosophising - which defeats the whole point of writing the poem.
An expressions like 'the essentially vulnerable / fragile "self"' is nothing more than a failed attempt to appear profound.

As for the second stanza - it belongs to a completely different poem. Suddenly we find ourselves in a Bollywood movie.

H

[sundarramchand]

Actually, i meant to convey the idea that there is a sad clown at the core of many of us with whom we essentially empathize but are afraid to express and identify with.

Well, i think life's downs , in some senses has to be balanced by ups and hence the not so fantastical fantasy

She may be after all , one of the major players in the whole thing !!!!

Sundar