The Pickled Mushroom

The Fool | June 24, 2009

The Fool

Pointy shoes, the tips turned up
Coquettish rests the jester’s cap
Upon his curls, his copper curls
As in a tune his fingers snap

A merry jingle follows him
As vultures do a dying man
He’s not in chains
But still he’s trapped

 “What can I play for you today?”
He banters with a witty smile
“The flute, the harp, the drums, the pipe?”
The king is still
The jester knows, the web is tight

 The smile that’s painted on his face
Does well to hide his harried eyes
He leaps and rolls and twists to please
The man that holds him like a vice

 There is no smile to coax today
From the king’s wine-sodden lips
His reddened ears, without a doubt
Follow not the joker’s wit 

The fool despairs, he knows too well
The end is not to please the king
He leaps the higher, twists the more
And yet it is to no avail 

A sad thing is a jester’s life
As fragile as his bones
The turn of thumb will signify
If he’ll see the next dawn’s glow
From his rooms
Or from a cell 

Balanced on a tightrope
He has but the king’s pleasure
To measure
His life.

A poem I wrote for English class. Jesters and clowns are a recurring theme in my drawings, so I thought I might write about them too.

1 Comment »

  1. Das ist wirklich gut! O.O
    Ich hoffe, bald mal was von deinen Zeichnungen zu Gesicht zu bekommen.

    Kompliment für das Gedicht (nochmal).


    Comment by hedgefairy — June 24, 2009 @ 10:09 pm

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