A Child Is Born Where The Monkey Wildly Swings Poem by Jerry Waterfields

A child is born where the monkey wildly swings
And reveals the sweet earthiness of beauty.
Atop the strings with human breath, he flings
In a land strange and far, yet near and dear.
In the ponds, he swims in little darts and sparks,
Bathes in River's goodness and pleasure.
Holds the aquats and celeberates
And dips in the sun's golden splendour.
He must know the ways of the street, the street knifes,
The thugs, the propped suits walking tall and short,
The underground, buses, colour of air.
What time here, what time there; sing madness.
Go to bed and forget everything done,
Then dance, cry and die; the poet retires.