The Jester

I come from nowhere, have no famous name
but live within the palace of a king.
I’m like a monkey: house-trained, semi-tame,
permitted to do almost anything
within my limits. So I joke, I sing,
I use satire, even profanity
to tease those so much mightier than me.
 
But it’s a fine line that I have to tread.
I must amuse, but all the time, I know
an ill-judged word could soon cost me my head.
The trick is sensing how far I can go.
I know the King’s mind like a lover, though
my words, the things I do give him no sign:
he has small inkling what goes on in mine.
 
Who has the power here? I used to feel
after the King, the nobles – I had none.
But their might comes from him: it isn’t real.
Their Lord can snap his fingers and it’s gone.
I have a power unknown to anyone,
stronger and longer-lived than any crown.
I watch, I listen. And I write things down.
 
Tim Taylor


If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Tim Taylor would be pleased to hear them