- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Looking Down at my Clowns
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My words are clowns with soft plastic hammers
That slapstick silly their clown master’s brain
But appear pantomimic when I take
Some toast and tea with T. S. Eliot
Because, I’m afraid, we both would agree
It’s impossible to say what they mean.
Nor do I know why the universe spins.
With all our science I only know how.
So I will compose some nursery rhymes
Much like the aforesaid Eliot did
In Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats
And spin on this circus’s merry go round.
- COMMENTS
twelveooneover 14 years agoI like this. It uses some wince worthy words "pantomimic", "aforesaid" but with the right touch of internal rhyme, comes across perfectly, much like Mr. Eliot could
lorencinoover 14 years agoLike an auitumnal sun, this poem sits comfortably in the sky and shines a calm benevolence.
