This poem was written when I was feeling the mortification of the consequences of an action I had thought through, but not considered in full and fine detail…
In the grand scheme of things it was a minor occurrence, but I felt it deeply and keenly at the time, not just being annoyed with myself, but thinking it would damage others perception of me, too.
Writing this poem helped me get rid of those feelings and to put it all into
I’ve been slaughtered, again.
Laid bare. Knocked out and lying on the hard, grey pavement.
Mortified in cold blood.
That clown of mine, is raising his ugly head.
Obscuring me. Blinding my thoughts
And shadowing the actions
which I take in the warm light.
The thousand things that I do right,
suddenly thrown into shade.
I’ve messed up – misinterpreted one thought, again.
Did not see the consequences
that others could see so clearly.
I could not see around the clown,
and now he blatantly attacks me again;
Pulls me off my white horse.
Painfully twists small things
into vast misinterpretations.
So I am not seen. Just the clown.
It is not enough that this has happened again?
Cannot the clown cease now?
Stop this stupidity, consciously,
and leave me to walk unencumbered and illuminated.
No – that gaping, laughing red mouth spreads misery;
It’s a disease of mind and perception, that in this circus,
the audience forgets the trapeze and the dancing horses.
They only see the clown, filling their senses
with violent reaction and violated distinction.
The clown must be banished, again.
But please don’t send me with him, into the dark.
Remind me, constantly to be on the lookout for him,
In the audience out there, under the chairs, I will scan with my torch.
I’ll look for him lurking, waiting to leap out and scorch.
I can see through the dark, I know his name.
for this is Martrucio and shame is his game.
I succumbed for a while, yet I know the story,
since I strayed and fell backwards into dark, hurted history.
I’m righting myself as I write this, again.
Words can blight or be therapy – the latter is me.
I stumble, then stand and keep on walking,
both humbled and learnèd – I know how to heal and how to deal
with anger vs faith, darkness vs light and despair vs trust.
I take responsibility, with karmic sensibility, since I am part of the cyclic crowd.
I’m sorry, I forgive, love much and am grateful for my part in this charade.
I choose to learn from, then laugh at the clown.
And I sit in the audience too, to observe and feel the truth of life, yet again.
Jeers are not necessary, neither are cheers. This circus performance is over now.
The curtain is closed. No clowning around or clapping required anymore…
PS: My book – Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life has been featured in Psychologies Magazine and The Lady, it was also honoured as a Finalist in the 2015 International Book Awards.
Buy the paperback on my website – here for just £7.99 including P&P…
- Or get it from Amazon for £11.99 and from all great book websites anywhere in the world.
- You can also buy it in Kindle format…
I’m also variously known as:
* The Director of LifeWork Consultancy & Coaching;
* The Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-Factor.
* A 2015 International Book Awards Finalist, in the Women’s Issues Category;
* The Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award in 2013;
* As being shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards 2014, also nominated in 2012 & 2013; and
* Being nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award in 2015.