Until you conquer yourself, you have conquerednothing.

A Weeping Clown
by Femi Osewa

I was forced to ogle.
She was graceful even in her trite attire,
Evidently provoked; the eyes were penetrating,
Clumsily she repositioned- to a “stop looking at me” assumption.

Maybe from hell,
Definitely irrational,
Conceit to the core,
Even avant-garde in his approach.
He left her battered.
She kept on begging,
He kept on bragging,
She kept on trying.

More and more she became touchy.
Instead he became cavil.

Slowly and finally,
Tears rolled down from her eyes,
Slowly and finally,
She became aloof and tantrum-ic

Helter-skelter he panicked.
“but you are supposed to enliven me” he said in fear
The once tractable SHE is obstinate.

“I was beautiful and amorous,”
“Now I’m a weeping clown”
“Capable of making you cry.”
“I’m a woman,”
“I’m mother Earth.”

Still in her fury,
I was forced to flee.