three wise monkeys

a poem by Leif Phillips, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

Three wise monkeys
offering nothing in each paw
on the same branch that they sat
on the very day before
they sit there in wise countenance
a funny look on uniform face
with just a subtle difference
in each monkey, just a trace
one whispers in almost silence
that the sun is made of gold
and the tree is born of that
with no beauty he is sold
he says all gifts are rare
as they are given without regret
he is an English speaking monkey
that’s a gift you don’t forget
the second sneezes on his feet
a great big glob of flem
then smiles with true indifference
well true of most of them
the third raises his arms
beats his chest with wilful glee
says this is not my branch
I’m in the wrong sodden tree!

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