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Harlequin watches the rippling moon
drifting east downstream to paint the ocean,
breathes a Pierrot sigh, thinks that too soon
this face that mirrors face will fade again.

Harlequin whistles, strikes a cheerful pose,
smooths gaudy feather, adjusts jaunty hat,
twists a moonstruck dancing step as he goes
artlessly strolling callous as a cat.

Harlequin smoothes the over-studied note,
by streetlight wrapped in night pursues his task.
motley shoulders bent beneath lost love's coat
preparing new scenes to change an old masque.

Again the oldest tale spins out its rhyme,
Can Harlequin regain his Columbine?
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Submitted: May 4, 2008
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Author's Comments

A long time being born, carved out of midnights and no sleep.
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Comments


I like the rhythm,the rhyme seems natural and unforced...it has a renaissance air,and yet the "callous cat" line.....recalls T.S.Eliot's Prufrock to /my/ear......a lovely ode to Harlequin,very well done:)

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"Death is patiently making my mask as I sleep.Each morning I awake
to discover...small tears of his wax"
The Exquisite Corpse
ThePencilClub
Interesting. I like the imagery.

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As we grow older, we do not get any younger.
I think Profrock was a little in my mind, I've read it a few times recently. Thank you for your words.

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“The job of art is to chase ugliness away” - Bono.
Thank you. Maybe if I see so much in my minds eye, I need more sleep!

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“The job of art is to chase ugliness away” - Bono.
fantastic I could see his masque and his jaunty hat applauds a fave to be sure!

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all these things we think we are, are only a drop on a pond tops depths and we watch the ripples as we decide what to be....
thank you. masks and masques and harlequins and harlequinades are something of an obsession at the moment.

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“The job of art is to chase ugliness away” - Bono.
You're welcome. What kind of job do you do?

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As we grow older, we do not get any younger.
IT

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“The job of art is to chase ugliness away” - Bono.
That can drive grown men and women mad.

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As we grow older, we do not get any younger.

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