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The Clown
I went inside my mind today.
I hoped my thoughts would want to play.
But all they did was get me down.
I saw a large imposing clown.
She had some tears upon her face,
and tried to lock me in embrace.
Against restraints, I will rebel.
I had to shout my fiercest yell.
I screamed and woke the neighborhood.
But no one helped, I wished they would.
This world of woe was mine alone.
The clown’s white face was like a stone.
She washed away her sullen mask.
I watched and was afraid to ask.
The tears were painted, now they’d gone.
I thought this clown was just a con.
Familiar though I could not place.
I thought I recognized her face.
I knew right then and had to laugh.
‘Twas obvious I’d made a gaffe.
I smiled, and her mouth smiled back.
So I pretended to attack.
The mirror stood about three feet
from where I felt so incomplete.
My mirror image punched me then.
Though she was I, she’d never been.
She had developed her own mind
with thoughts of mine that she could find.
They would have only gone to waste,
discarded ‘cause I was in haste.
That punch missed me because I ducked,
but broken mirrors bring bad luck.
She shattered into far flung shards.
I picked them up like playing cards.
There were much more than fifty-two,
but now I could be born anew.
I knew it wasn’t very smart,
but I was thinking with my heart.
She’d just destroyed a part of me.
I could not my reflection see.
Another mirror then appeared,
and I was thinking this was weird.
She looked and acted as before,
but this time, my emotions soared.
No longer was I split in two.
‘Twas nothing that I couldn’t do.
As all my movements she’d repeat,
I felt my mind become complete.
This mirror also went away
‘cause my reflection came to stay.
It turned out that she was my soul.
I needed her to make me whole.
.
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Pamela Ruggiero was born in Urbana, Illinois in 1952. She currently resides in Antioch, California.
She was a software engineer and did consultation work in IT. She also played tournament chess at a high level and did oil paintings. She’s now retired.
Fascinating interplay of the mirror and the soul with an interesting and novel perspective. Your fine choice of words and rhyme brought the images to life.
Thank you, Roy. Your opinion means a lot to me.
Pamela – I agree with Roy. I’ve given this poem three reads now, finding more in it each time. I assume that it portrays as a single experience a process that took much of a lifetime. Interesting and well done. Thanks for this!
Thank you, Russell for your kind words and encouragement. I definitely was in a contemplative and rec perspective mood when I wrote this.
Fascinating and a truly classical poem. I felt it was like something Poe would write.
Wow. Being compared to Poe pretty amazing. I think of him writing horror stories, but I suppose the beginning of this seems like horror.
Thank you for the other nice things you said
The dream described is what C.G. Jung would have called “a confrontation with the shadow.” Whether this is an account of a real dream experience or just a purely fictive narration doesn’t matter. It follows the pattern perfectly.
The clown represents the psychic shadow — that is, the repressed and rejected side of the self that we try to ignore or forget. If we are too strict in this rejection, the shadow comes forth to challenge our controls and restrictions. In this poem, the punch and the shattered glass represent the shadow’s intense desire to come forth and be recognized and accepted as a part of the conscious personality.
Clowns symbolize silliness, foolishness, comic absurdity, and ridiculous nonconformity in dress and appearance. They are the epitome of what a somewhat rigid and uptight person, with a carefully maintained and polished public image, does not want to acknowledge. In this poem there is a direct physical fight between the speaker and the clown, and a mirror image is smashed. But the outcome of this confrontation is that the speaker recognizes that the clown is a part of her, and her new persona is stronger, more resilient, and more capable as a result.
The last line is crucial: “I needed her to make me whole.”
Wow, Joseph. You read my thoughts and motives for writing this poem perfectly. I hadn’t thought about all the psychological implications, but you are right on as to what I was thinking when I wrote this.
It is from my younger years, where I was really trying to find myself and my soul
I thank you for taking so much time in this review of my poem
With clowns having become such sinister entities since Stephen King’s ‘It’, I got a bit worried towards the middle of the poem. I therefore found the poem playful, sinister and enlightening as it evolved.
Thanks for the read.
Thank you, Paul for such an honest review. I think clowns also got a bad rap when it became aware that John Gacy painted them. He was dubbed the clown killer for that reason. He didn’t kill clowns he killed young boys.
Back then, when I wrote this, there weren’t any bad stories about clowns
Thank you again for your time
Pamela, that’s a powerful fight scene! Your gradually slowing down to analyze lets the logical perspective arrive later. You begin with mind and thoughts combined with mouth and face, but the fundamental self-image of the face is not at first recognizable. The recognition line is one of the most compact and meaningful I’ve seen: “Though she was I, she’d never been.” Complete, opposing thoughts in a single seven-word sentence! Good thing to explain immediately: “She had developed her own mind.” Why does this conflict of minds develop? “I was thinking with my heart,” or using emotions that should be guided by exercise of the mind, to do the mind’s work. This misuse hides the true reflection of self, which in the next-to-last line turns out to be the soul. It isn’t just the higher, spiritual nature. The soul is what gives life to the body. When mind and heart work in proper order, as in the next-to-last stanza, we see the beneficial psychological state where emotions soar and the mind is complete.
You make excellent use of the four classic terms for parts of the person (face and mouth to represent the body, with heart, mind, and soul). This enables you to clarify human wholeness even in describing a battle from which it emerges.
Thank you, Margaret. I could not have put it any better. You got me to think on some things I hadn’t even thought about.
What a great analysis. Thank you for taking your time to help me with this poem.
To Mike —
I think there is a typo in the author’s name just below the illustration. It should be Ruggiero, not Ruggerio. (The name is correctly spelled in all of her comments in the thread.)
Thanks, Joe, fixed…
Thank you, Joe