Where is the joy
in receiving that which one is
past wanting?
The pros and cons have been weighed in favor of the
cons
The grief of loss
has been bartered measure for
measure –
That many bushels
of despair
These many buckets
of tears
And a large sum of
youthful ignorance
Which was largely
my bliss
For acceptance
I was once smitten with the red Shalimar
The Clown, Shakespeare’s
Philosopher,
And the stone have
now showed up in the same frame
In this montage
called “My Life”
The jester mimes offering me the
ruby on a silver
platter
With watercress
around it and then
languishes at my feet
Feigning death as
a noiselessly Dying duck
Who am I, I who
have been so mistaken so many times in my judgment,
To ignore the
Fool’s message?
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ALLUSIONS:
~Shakespeare's Fool
~Rushdie’s “Shalimar the Clown”
~J K Rowling’s “The Philosopher and
the Stone”
~P.G Wodehouse’s frequent references
to the “dying duck’
and things “on a silver platter
with watercress around” them.
