With giant shoes and big
red nose,
He jumps and juggles on
his toes,
And giggles everywhere
he goes!
News of circus for the lurkers
I’m a morning coffee man
Greeting the familiar workers
Orange-vested gentlemen
I go down to buy some food
For the lunch and for the evening
So this fossil villagehood
Seems like natural way of living
Every outing has its purpose
In the evening wine and bread
Reconcile me with the surplus
Of the news they choose to spread.
untamed and deranged
romantic thoughts of
the circus
lead to questions
which in time
reveal certain truths:
the tamed lions and
the high-wire act
are illusions from
an overactive ego,
and the infinitely
sad clown cries
tears of wine
and the parallels
to my own life
in midtown, twin clock towers chime.
their peal resembling tumbling coins.
procrastination, now a crime,
consummate idleness purloins.
youth may clutch her bottled seconds
to transact on a rainy day.
she addresses urgent errands.
handsome faces gallop away.
i've seen my own spring and wither
between these effortless minutes.
cherished vanity's coy sliver,
wasteful without observed limits.
i'm liquor-free and off-caffeine,
walking in sunlight on cool grass.
crunch my vegetables, staying lean,
extra sands upon the hourglass.
lost my rosaries. almanacs!
are charming nooses, rave and posh
pocket planners build sky-high stacks.
moments have no spares, cut the bosh.
shouldn't spend my flowers wantonly,
chastising walls, scaling degrees.
there's never enough time, truly
to claim wealth from its poverty.
Should you spend St Patrick’s Day in merry old Derry
Beware of sheepdogs so smug and contrary
He swears he’s Irish, he’s not!
He’s just an old English sot
So toss the cur, drink up, and get your dog some therapy
Aerial acrobatics at the circus.
They have everyone in oohs and ahhs.
One slip and fall ~ it’s all over.
Broken bones won’t be the worst of it.
From lights and stilts
the hat tips down
an adoring voice
welcomes the crowd
From end to end the tent fills with laughter
and every second there's a passing actor
from the car you drove in residing inside
the make up covers your face and tears in your eyes
you'd never thought you'd be here
you'd never thought to try
but in the end at the circus
the tight rope you walk on
was not held so high
so keep your chin up
and raise your fist
honk your horn
and balance on your wrist
for this is the show
and you are the clown
and the only fool that is here
is the crowd left profound
One couple of days, a circus travelled into town
Where fun frowning clowns, wear their smiles upside down.
There is a hairless bearded lady with soft curly brown hair
And a dancing bear who reads Learn How To Dance books, inside his lair.
There's a confident high wire walker who has a morbid fear of heights
And the ugly fat lady whose sheer beauty delights.
These acts are not lies and my nonsense story is true
So please come visit our circus, down here at the zoo.
CUATRO-- SANDCASTLES
Category: QUATRAIN
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Date: October 9, 2025
purposeless purpose
constructed in wash away sand,
ruled by wind and waves
my life an ebbing tide circus.
"Let's go see the circus", he said with glee.
So we went, we kids, my mother, and he.
I didn't want to go. It was late at night,
But agreed to go not wanting a fight.
Though it was late, the tent was still standing.
"Look! See the circus", he was demanding.
There was naught to see and we kept silent.
Regretting this trip, we stayed compliant.
Suddenly there was fast movement and noise,
Then out ran a bunch of roustabout boys.
Quickly the last Ringling Big Top was gone.
All of us were tired and starting to yawn.
So I missed the last circus that came to town.
I only saw the Big Top being torn down.
For Suzette's contest, The Pirouette Poetry Contest, by 30 September 2025
At a moment of time
with the strike of the clock
she was holding a cord
getting ready to fly.
She fell flat
splat face down
acrobat
that was done
copycat.
Segmented arms and legs are seen
wielding a broken machine.
A swinging lamp of kerosene
lights up a silent movie screen.
In the dark Circus Oblique,
presided o'er by the freak,
each butterfly is unique -
but none of them can speak.
Is it not a little odd,
ev'ry page his bug-eyes trod,
were a kind of lightning rod
for the sad boy who played God.
I recall clearly, my mom took me to peek
at the calico box crab roadside circus freak.
Some kids have a tooth fairy, my reward, more oblique.
I stood, mouth agape, quite unable to speak.
I had a strange childhood, you might call it unique,
before reaching adulthood, employment to seek.
there is a clown in every political house
he who denies the climate crisis
and calls it a "hoax"
there is a clown in every political house
presenting his circus show
to please his own kind
there is a clown in every political house
who loves to be at balls and parties
thus betraying his own nation
One of the clowns in my circus
wants to be ringmaster and crack the whip
one of the sailors on board my boat
wants to be captain and steer the ship
but there's only room for one
under the big tophat my dear
so they're both out of luck
and the buck stops here
I have the last and final say
tho' not one to overwhelm
to maintain a steady course
there can only be one at the helm
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