Clown Poet

He had a way with words, 
       spoken or written,

       could clown around with them, 
              could leave you smitten,

              but he could be most sober, 
                     and somber, too,

                     and leave you with a hybrid 
                            point of view.


Beneath a tree, his epitaph 
       winks at me:

        "Lachrymose don't be,  
               this isn't  tragedy,

               you should've seen my dad 
                      doing comedy,

                      well, apples fall near the tree 
                             where I pee."
Copyright © | Year Posted 2008

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace