forgotten by a departing circus, long ago

forgotten by a departing circus, long ago

A Poem by Philip Gaber

Prompt:  

The movie opened with an old clown

sitting on a swing, smoking,

and sipping from a flask.

 

A young girl approached

him cautiously.  Stood in

front of him.  Asked him,

“Why are you all by yourself?”

 

The old clown said,

“It’s a long story, kid.”

 

The girl reached into her

pocket, pulled out a Fireball, and

offered it to the clown. 

 

The old clown shook his head. 

 

The girl shrugged, and

walked away.

 

The old clown shouted at the girl,

“YOU WORTHLESS LITTLE S**T!”

 

The movie ended with the

psychiatrist and the priest being

run off the road into the ocean by

the old clown, who’d spent the entire

movie traumatized by the discovery of

a diabolical truth;

science and theology had failed him.

 

The next day the clown walked

into a lake and became one with something.

The screen faded to black

and the credits rolled.

 

The movie opened with an old clown

sitting on a swing, smoking,

and sipping from a flask.

 

A young girl approached

him cautiously.  Stood in

front of him.  Asked him,

“Why are you all by yourself?”

 

The old clown said,

“It’s a long story, kid.”

 

The girl reached into her

pocket, pulled out a Fireball, and

offered it to the clown. 

 

The old clown shook his head. 

 

The girl shrugged, and

walked away.

 

The old clown shouted at the girl,

“YOU WORTHLESS LITTLE S**T!”

 

The movie ended with the

psychiatrist and the priest being

run off the road into the ocean by

the old clown, who’d spent the entire

movie traumatized by the discovery of

a diabolical truth;

science and theology had failed him.

 

The next day the clown walked

into a lake and became one with something.

The screen faded to black

and the credits rolled.           

 

© 2024 Philip Gaber


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Featured Review

Heh. Clowns. Don’t get me started. Reminds me of a demented version of Hemmingway’s six word story… but your’s has more words… the ending sounds like the ending to Woody Allen’s “Interiors”… a movie where at the end, I contemplated my own demise, it was so suffocating… and we won’t even talk about the ending to “Searching for Mr. Goodbar”….. You go to a lot of bare knuckle fights, don’t you Philip?

Posted 3 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Philip Gaber

3 Months Ago

How'd you know my love of bare-knuckle fights, Bill? That's amazing. Woody always influences me. Tha.. read more
Philip Gaber

3 Months Ago

Thanks, Bill.



Reviews

Hi.

Very strange people behave. I think all such women and men must meet psychiatrist. Just now got very great exp i am sharing my room with junior engineer, i was locked out with key not working, she couldnt even open the door even though she was awake, every time she forgets the key i open the door for single knock, she is in 20s much matured, showing her attitude. I know all indians show their dirty attitude and there is a treatment too, pscysho meds, which numbs their over thinking brain to plot against other.

I love clowns its not like they look funny, but for they make others smile and laugh who forget all the pain.

Thank you for sharing note.
Please do drop reply on my writings.

Jessy jacob
With love
💙

Posted 3 Months Ago


Heh. Clowns. Don’t get me started. Reminds me of a demented version of Hemmingway’s six word story… but your’s has more words… the ending sounds like the ending to Woody Allen’s “Interiors”… a movie where at the end, I contemplated my own demise, it was so suffocating… and we won’t even talk about the ending to “Searching for Mr. Goodbar”….. You go to a lot of bare knuckle fights, don’t you Philip?

Posted 3 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Philip Gaber

3 Months Ago

How'd you know my love of bare-knuckle fights, Bill? That's amazing. Woody always influences me. Tha.. read more
Philip Gaber

3 Months Ago

Thanks, Bill.

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Added on June 3, 2024
Last Updated on June 3, 2024

Author

Philip Gaber
Philip Gaber

Charlotte, NC



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I hate writing biographies. I was one of those kids who rode a banana seat bike and watched Saturday morning cartoons and Soul Train. But my mother would never buy any of those sugary cereals for us k.. more..

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