The Mime

Written April 4th, 2001, this poem attempts to make a mockery of the loathesome mime.

Pausing stride on a downtown walk

at a long-obtrusive gesture;

pitch leotards caressing manly thighs,

carrying lank torso, spindly protrusions

flailing as arms (as they were, I think)

that danced about a dumb mouth

painted on pasty white

below false-unhappy eyes.

Unwelcome advances thrust

and splashed in my way;

bent, begging, bobbing head;

contorting fluid limbs.

Acute melodrama

in mute mutant mockery

I could not tolerate, shoved aside.

Long face, longer lower lip;

fake offense and faker weeping

on waxy whitewashed fishy face

laid in long fleshy fingers

that one accusing pointed me

through muted moaning whining wails

all rent in ghastly gestures,

farcical feigned facial expressions

that begged only more my sweeping palm.


About A. S. Ellis

I am always learning. Always. And that is as it should be.
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3 Responses to The Mime

  1. What made you write about this? It must have had a significant impact on you, one way or another. Were you that perturbed?


  2. A. S. Ellis says:

    It’s what the mime represents, which is worth writing about all on it’s own. And yes, “one way or another,” it did. Old fodder for new ink… good and fermented, too. Glad you asked.

  3. Becca says:

    So, how do you feel about clowns? lol

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