Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Pantomime: The Story of Funny the Clown

Hello, you, I’m Funny the Clown. 

I’m dramatic, zippy, and never frown.

Performing to music is my gift. 

My body movements are very swift.

I speak with gestures instead of words,

Almost like a flock of birds.

My orange hair bounces when I’m wild.

The curls release my inner child.

I bob my head when I agree,

A bit like a swaying cherry tree.

When I’m afraid, I make a scary face.

This feeling is rather commonplace.

I exaggerate my eyebrows if I want a laugh.

Let me give you my autograph!

My forehead wrinkles when I’m confused.

I’m sure this makes you quite amused.

I roll my eyes if you’re telling tales,

That approach never ever fails.

My ear twinges if you same my name.

But I never really wanted fame. 

My red nose gets scrunchy when I sneeze,

Which happens often in the summer breeze.

My cheeks grow pink if I’m flustered. 

I’m liable to become super blustered. 

If I grind my teeth, it means I’m mad.

Earlier in the day, I might have been sad.

I close my mouth when I want to think,

And thinking finds the missing link.

I bite my tongue when I have hunger.  

This worked better when I was younger.

Pursing lips mean that I love you. 

Like two doves flying high above you.

I take it on the chin if I am wrong.

Of course, I knew my mistake all along.  

My neck is crooked if I am lost. 

This makes me feel ruffled and tossed. 

I shrug my shoulders when I give up. 

Put my back to the wall, and I’ll say: “Yup.”

My stomach sticks out when I am full.

I can cover it over with cotton wool.

When I throw up my arms, I want attention. 

Sometimes this helps to cause prevention.

If I elbow you, please mind your manners. 

I shouldn’t have to run a golden banner. 

My hand signals are a private matter. 

If you know the code, it’s only flatter. 

I cross my fingers when I hope for the best. 

My pinky has more bling than zest. 

When I bend my waist, I bow my knee.

My leg and ankle follow me. 

I wiggle my foot when I’m worried. 

Sorry, if my heels look hurried. 

My big toe stands up when I’m disgusted.

This probably means someone’s busted.

Please read the language of my body. 

My clown outfit has never been gaudy.

I juggle balls and clap my hands

And gain a couple hundred fans. 

I would rather live what I mean,

Instead of being a word machine.

So, you can now talk without a sound.

That way of speaking is quite profound!

Almost like the locomotion, 

Pantomime with much emotion!


Copyright 2016 Jennifer Waters

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