with thanks (and apologies) to raamesh...
riding a worn elephant
i enter the tent
on my bended knee
i am old tarzan
calling forth the wilderbeast
i grab the trapeze
let the show begin!
life is a circus
for what it is worth
i'm a tired clown
third-rate circus star
living hand to mouth in hell
update #1, nov 24th: this poem came on the wings of the haiku/short-form poetry email group i belong to. the following haiku-stanzas came in response to the above, from my poet-artist friend in argentina, monica silvia cassels:
I am the juggler
in this demented circus.
Gilt ninepins and balls
glitter the vulgar,
raising a phantom rictus:
false joy pervades all.
ramesh gowri ragavan in mumbai had the original idea for this particular series, "life's a circus". here is his original short poem, with the tag "continuez!" i got a bit carried away. :>>>))))
Life is a circus -
I'm the ringmaster sometimes,
sometimes the lion.
Update #2, nov 25th: a great artist and writer (and my dear friend) mary stebbins-taitt joined our "fête du cirque" with a strophe of her own. i love how this process of passing along the seed of a poem works for us and keeps us writing! if you have a little circle of poetic friends, allez-y! give it a try. it is my bliss.
In the circus of my sanity, no applause
ripples the canvas, no cheers
harmonize with the band. My mind
wobbles across the tight rope, sagging,
slipping, tumbling into the darkness
where no nets wait to catch me.
The lion’s maw, full of rotted teeth,
yawns open and I tumble toward it,
my last sequins sparkling faintly
in the fading light as all goes black.