The Juggler

The nimble man with sinewy arms,

Stepped upon his lit stage,

In colorful garb of a jester he stood,

Yet he was a master of his trade.

Without a word he began his act,

Which would wonder and amaze.

Drawing out of the air three spheres,

Down and around he tossed them,

A simple trick for any clown,

The audience did condemn,

Yet when he drew three more from his pockets

He then became a wondrous gem.

Never pausing to take a bow,

Nor stopping to have a rest,

Tossing the balls, he drew four clubs,

A much more difficult test,

And when he set the tops aflame,

The crowd new he was among the best,

Throwing the clubs into the air,

The fire lit up the night,

And catching all four in one hand,

Was truly a remarkable sight,

Tossing the torches into a pail,

He whirled about and opened a chest of knives.

One by one, ten knives flew up,

The crowd silently stared,

Higher and higher they took to the sky,

The juggler did not look scared,

As he caught each one by the point,

One on each of ten fingers, with care.

The juggler bowed,

The audience cheered,

And they tossed coins into his bucket,

As the juggler packed up his gear,

He wondered why, by risking his life,

He brought the audience cheer.




Nate Gowen