The poem that I chose to comment on and make an analysis on is Cloony the Clown. I chose this poem not because of its absurd title, but the fact that this poem particularly struck me and gave me much room for reflection.
Cloony the Clown by Shel Silverstein is a light simple poem that any child could
read with an ironic twist that any adult would appreciate. As the title of the poem oh so subtly suggests, the poem is about the Cloony the Clown as told by the narrator to the reader. The persona is most probably a disinterested townsman who just happens to know the story of Cloony the Clown. I assumed the narrator to be male because of the apparent lack of sympathy towards Cloony and his sad conditions, negating what the stereotypically emotional female is made out to be.
Cloony is a clown who just wasn’t, just wasn’t funny at all. He worked hard and
went to great lengths, trying to make people laugh. But it was in vain; he just wasn’t funny at all. It could be that the way he looked wasn’t jovial enough for the townsfolk. It could be that he was a little too loud. It could be that he was a little to ugly. It could be that his tricks were a little too sick and twisted. It could be that his jokes were a little too improper. It could be that he just tried too hard.
But everyone has a breaking point. Financial crisis and excessive dejection is what pushed Cloony to his. I can’t blame Cloony for his breakdown; everyone has needs – food, stability, acceptance, a sense of accomplishment – and Cloony was barely meeting his, if he was reaching any at all. When he reached his breaking point, he decided to tell them all about his problems and his demons. He wanted to tell them how he felt – how they made him feel. So he told them of every pain he’s felt, every hardship he’s ever been dealt, every demon that climbed out from the darkness in his soul that he’s ever faced.
At the end of it all, one would expect sympathy and words of comfort to be
offered to the suffering clown. Not even a single sympathetic glance was directed his way; instead, the whole world rang loud and shook hard with laughter. Cold and callous was their glee. Cloony was left there to drown in his despair, not even given a second thought.
The irony of the ending’s just sad. When Cloony didn’t mean to make the people
laugh, that’s when they laughed. The people laughed at something they weren’t meant to laugh at. It is sickening to see that on top of not being a successful clown, Cloony was the object of mirthless laughter when he shared his unfortunate plight. It’s a sad truth though that society finds humour and a sort of comfort in the pain and suffering of others. Sick as it may sound, it’s true.
Why did they laugh anyway? A clown, the very epitome of joy and laughter,
broke down and showed the world that even his big bright grin is tainted by a darkness in his soul. They weren’t alone in their misery; even the happiest person in the world is miserable. It made them feel less bad about themselves, knowing that their misery is “normal”. I guess misery does love company, and together they all wallow in the darkness.
