The Little Fool

This poem was inspired by what it feels like to be a public school teacher… how it feels, how I’m treated, and what the main frustration is.

The Little Fool

The king’s favorite jester,
Is sitting in his tower,
Arranging all his puppets,
For the coming children’s hour.

His songs and silly stories,
Are dancing in his head,
But his life is unfulfilling,
And he wishes he were dead.

The pain, it comes from knowing,
That the songs he’s yet to sing,
Are filled with love and glory,
And the most important thing.

He knows the theme is crucial,
And hits the nail upon the head,
But the listeners are all screaming,
That he’s hit his thumb instead.

They really do not listen,
To the stories that he tells,
They think it’s not important,
Not even if he yells.

So he turns back to the children,
With a puppet in his hand,
And one more time he teaches
The best story in the land.

He cries out to the rafters,
“My life is lived in vain!
I tell a tale of triumph,
But my listeners are insane!”

And because no one will listen,
His face-paint all is blue,
And clown tears grace his visage,
There is no sadder hue.

But the Princess now is smiling,
And she shyly takes his hand,
And says, “Beloved Jester,
Please sing it once again.”

And the Jester keeps on trying,
For even a single ear,
Can take the Jester’s message,
And actually start to hear.