The JesterThe JesterThe curtain draws, the stage is set,For the travelling dancer, jester, he's yet,Prances forth, with confidence full,And begins his act, all else annulled... ..Colours twisting in the air,You cast a glance, but he's not there.His limits of skill, the jester meets,In spirals, back flips, turns and leaps... ..He holds the crowd with a paralysing spell,The children, too, their interest tells,All are stunned at his daring tricks,Not seen before, an exotic mix... ..His hat adorned with many bells,Of happy times the sweet sound tells,A break from hunger, and tiring work,To see this actor, from task they shirk... ..'He has a gift!' is said by one The cry taken up, none to shun,The talented performer on his stage,Gold coins thrown, they are his wage... ..The dancer slows, and takes his bow,A tale to be told, of the jester, long from now.
We Saved FaceWe Saved FaceIt was a worthless war, and meaningless death,Started for no reason and ended for less.The history books showed it was a justified mess,So we saved face.The young boys died while the old men laughed,Drinking their wine their leadership a farce.The toy of glory on a thin wooden shaft,So we saved face.Over the top and into machine-gun fire,Always egged on by their grandfathers sire.Never guessing that we could be such liars,So we saved face.Cracking at the Huns with their broken rifles,Caked in mud, told their wounds were trifles.Minced by the machine in practised cycles,Did we save face?I always wondered about the wives and children,Their husbands gone, they whisper we killed them.A people beginning to think we may have tricked them...We never saved face.I myself never faced their foes,Warm in my mansion, with none of their woes.I didnt want to face what they were prepared to lose,What is <
Quiet JoyQuiet JoyThrough whispering leaves, golden in fall,Silent steps are coveredBy a gentle wind, laden with quiet joy.Grey of man and grey of duskIs pierced by shafts of western glory,The warmth of a dying dayGiving sustenance to my heart, and mind,Caressing my thoughts,Guiding my footsteps through an avenue of the past.
PeoplePeoplePeople can be tricky,Dealing with them is hard,But people aren't like bedsheets,To lay with then discard.People aren't like games,To play with 'til complete,And people aren't like bills,To be tossed on the heap.People aren't like clothes,To be washed and hung out to dry,Then spend weeks in a closet,Because they've lost their dye.People aren't like insects,To be squashed without a thought,People aren't like politicians,Their loyalties are not bought.People aren't like photos,To be chopped and changed at will,People are like people,And most importantly,They have feelings too.But this particular person,This one's heart is true,And deep down he knows,That he will always love you.