Finally, Brown makes an entrance. This poem grew from the challenge of two constraints: finding rhymes of vowel-n (-ane, -een, -ine, -own, etc.) and mapping verses to three-hour blocks of time to fill the day. I went as far as to illustrate this whole poem using basic shapes in MS Paint for Windows, then injecting noise to pixilate the result. Having problems finding a copy…
Hey! I found a copy! Look here. Hard to believe that was 10 years ago.
My name is Brown.
I am a clown.
I do my antics upside-down.
And every time I do a show,
I want the people all to know –
My name is Brown;
I am a clown.
I wake at dawn
To mow the lawn
And feed my brother’s favorite fawn.
I cut the grass down in a row;
Then churn it with a garden hoe.
I wake at dawn
To mow the lawn.
From nine to noon,
I sing a tune —
A silly song about the moon.
At times I’m aided by a crow
Who comes along at ten or so.
From nine to noon,
I sing a tune.
By three I’m seen
Out with the Queen,
Who keeps her scepter very clean.
She fills my head with thoughts of woe
By telling me I’m not her beau.
By three I’m seen
Out with the Queen.
Till six I deign
To fly a plane
About the edge of my domain.
I bring the plane down nice and low
Before I yell “Geronimo!”
Till six I deign
To fly a plane.
From six to nine,
It’s time to dine
On figs and capers soaked in brine.
I pay the waiter what I owe,
Then ride home on my buffalo.
From six to nine,
It’s time to dine.
Night finds me prone
And all alone
Upon my comfy bed of stone.
The dreams that through my head do flow
Are of the days that come and go.
Night finds me prone –
And all alone.
Originally, the evening block was this:
‘From six to nine, I’m feeling fine – with several empty jugs of wine.
I ask for more, and answer ‘no’ – but pour another one to go.’
I’ve changed this to make the poem more generally acceptable.
The related change is that I made the waiter look like my dad. He died a couple of years ago, so it’s both memorable and sad to see my representation of him.
2021 NOTE: I’ve been hesitant to move this poem forward (toward publishing) because of the line about Geronimo, and the fear that it is somehow demeaning and/or isn’t politically correct. Searching online now indicates that the US military shouts this when jumping from airplanes as an homage to Geronimo’s brave reputation. This makes me feel OK about using it.
2025 NOTE: My eldest printed out this story as a book — and everyone who reads it really likes it. This makes me interested in moving my children poems/stories forward.