Emmet Kellys, Krusty Clowns,

        Puddles Pity Parties

For William Louis Hunter V

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

But what if peonies are more a gay

Flock, flock of happy birds come home to roost

In garden leafage?  Happinesses they

Are, not prinked beauty but laughs to boost

Our chests.  Imagine peonies as clowns

To make us smile and giggle, not bring awe

Of bloom in beauty, bouncing like jazz clowns

In Maytime’s breeze, not making us sing awe.

Of course the peonies cannot be sad

Sack clowns, not Weary Willies, but drooped smile

Unflagging, forcing feelings flapping glad

With slapstick pranks to win us and beguile.

  Yet all of this skids close to being sly

    Since peonies go smiling as they die.