101 (Death makes a Comedy of us all)

A smiling clown walks timid on tightened rope
And peers down thinking this day might be last;
The face of fear begs in frightened hope
As relentless laughter demands to move fast!

When the clown’s descent endows
The eyes with moment of great fall,
Boom! Goes Death, and humour bows
On knees bruised to crawl.

The crowd,
Sunken deep in whatever is felt
by fleeting grief,
Remarks: “He was a fool; it was to be a
Sudden leap that would make
his living brief!”

And so, from the first to this last fall,
Death makes a Comedy of us all.


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Literature, art, science, travel. Writing fiction, non-fiction, poetry. Always wrestling with language.

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