Pierrot Poems - Poems about Pierrot

Porcelain chalk white mask moves with silence of mime that hides a lovelorn face moonstruck by orbs of light with shadows to embrace. Porcelain chalk white mask a cloak of much disguise hides from the world a heart that has lost its amour and yet, performs for art. Porcelain chalk white mask a jester, clown, for all veils verbal...

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She haunted me as a child, Staring quietly from her watercolor world. Her strange presence called me. Powder-white skin and rouge cheeks, Pencil-thin brow over Dark-rimmed eyes Shedding a single tear, A pale rose between slender fingers, Seeking its fragrance. Quietly she slipped away, I never asked after her. Years later, her likeness appears. Same raven cap, Impossibly flagrant and frosty ruffles, Porcelain...

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A girl stood alone, In a broad daylight; I admire, Days changed, but she stood alone, Will this show end, I desire. Like Pierrot, she stood in aware, They enjoyed the live performance, There, I can see her seeping away, My hands tied, permanent stance. The last time she stood, The deed seemed effortless, I bet, There, she reached the goal and crushed, All the...

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The people surrounding me keep asking “why are you going back and forth uneasily on the empty stage shedding crocodile tears, and telling the stories of negative effects on others, though you are not of a man of faculty who is even able to produce a theory comparable to 'Blind Will of Universe', one of...

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without warning, one day, i shall close my eyes, i wonder, in that moment, i will say “indeed i lived a good life,” or i may say “i lived my unpropitious life shoved and dragged by the power i have no control over it.” if it’s to say that one who survived through his given days is...

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—A certain weather forecast— for he has no home to return a pierrot painted with snow-white make-up walks under the moonlight up and down restlessly under the sky, the pierrot sleeps all curled up because of the nightly chilling air, now stands with both arms stretched out to the air; the moonlight streams in through the openings between the pierrot’s spread fingers...

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A lonely soul lying in the carriage driving by the Grim Leaper is Pierrot, the third class theatre performer who pretended to be happy though he was sad hiding his loneliness behind thickened white makeup. Pierrot who lying in the plain wood coffin, not even a stem of flower on it, tears for the first time; each...

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Today too, as usual, the curtain is up though the stage is run-down it’s the only and most precious stage available for Pierrot to perform his act. When he glanced through the box from the stage he found it was emptied though one seat was occupied the occupant was no one but his other self. Regardless of the poor...

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