Long Circus Poems
Long Circus Poems. Below are the most popular long Circus by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Circus poems by poem length and keyword.
Most beautiful creature I had ever seen
More gorgeous than ebony pumas or wild wolves
I was fascinated, and intimidated; she was the Sheila.
There was danger in knowing her.
She was the ultimate circus star; a performer.
An artesian, her traveling RV was full of hand painted beauty.
The Sheila would have travelled easily in a gypsy wagon,
except the circus manager would not tolerate it.
I think they used to be married.
She was Bohemian, confident, a woman of truth.
Her beauty astounded and confounded us.
The Sheila could do every job in the circus, and she did.
She tamed the lions and sometimes swung from a trapeze.
She was stunning; mysterious and beautiful.
It was more than enough to wow me.
Form:
Create Your World
Go beyond the boundaries of definition.
Swim in your cerulean seas of individuation!
Stop bowing and cow-towing to the whims of the
masses.
Only you can decide to be you. or swim with the
conforming classes.
I promise you, your individuality will not be liked.
You either follow them, or find yourself on a lonely pike.
Great poets are ignored, searching instead for their
own voice!
To them, to be real, is the only valid choice.
They are not poet clowns in a circus ring.
You will never find them in a mad search for
approval, galloping!
May 6, 2020
2:15pm PST
Le Cirque Bleu
The spotlight is aglow through the gloam
The light an indigo ink modifying color
She swings her body with agility thrusting backwards
upside down, with unseen wings,
an acrobat aerials amid the roar
She looks pretty with her fan in one hand,
long tresses flowing loosely
A circus horse made of jade below
makes eye contact and an interconnection
Without movement they are in an eternal trance,
In the deep dark yonder the golden helio appears
Fiddle and banjo play for the opening adagios act La Nouba
Her leotard tightly invokes, red with flower imprints
Statuesque, still in time showing off her physique
and impressing spectators from below the fliers' pedestal
From above the nets, with ease, she imagines a
world where gravity defies, and animals and objects fly
Flights of fancy within the flying trapeze
flights of fancy an indigo trapeze ~ from above jade nets, an ease
Why a leader, I wonder, in the whisper of thoughts that flow like a river,
to make you follow, to crawl through the dust of doubt,
in a silent rebellion on the body of generous dreams,
for the captain has left the soul sinking into deep waters.
Each word carries a story, an image of a double-edged sword,
that slices truth from lie, cutting illusions with precision,
if you can cut, cut and believe, even in what is wrong,
for sometimes mistakes hide lessons in their deep shadows.
The clowns turned yellow under the tiring circus lights,
run by the words of strange occasional allies,
and the deep meaning is nothing more than superficial depth,
a paradox in which we lose ourselves, seeking the truth.
I wonder if time will ever tell the truth, let us move forward,
for eternity lies just beyond the shadow,
where hearts find peace and echo,
where time becomes a journey toward the light.
Touch the source, the heart where it all begins, drowned in an ocean of words,
where silence speaks first, revealing the hidden essence,
they never say what it truly means to thirst,
to passionately seek the hidden root in the depths.
But I will reach the truth, emerging from the jungle of illusions,
to prove that I am the captain of my own joy,
to find trust in the hearts I touch,
for there lies the root of our true power.
For love, much remains to be said, true love guides us,
follow your heart to the pure light that embraces us,
it is divine to define our trust,
hands clasped in a peace created only by us, a sanctuary of souls.
Clowns at the Abyss
I’m not a communist,
I’m a Democratic Socialist
Cries the independent Elitist
It’s a right to have healthcare
It’s a right to have welfare
Yet, funding for these generous proposals is no-where.
The clown behind the podium is a saint with your resources.
He proposes everyone pay their fair share, but more so by titan economic forces.
He hails we all work hard, or maybe not, assuming he is a party to the class of workhorses.
But the political party leaders are less like workhorses and more like jackasses.
For they too look down on their Animal Farm with tilted looking glasses.
Under their more-equal-than other proposals, in time all resources will be exhausted for the masses.
We have seen in the last century the million on million dead from empty promises given with a kiss.
We witnessed the suffering. Excuse me but was there something I missed?
If we cannot resist repeating our mistakes, like clowns we be, looking up from the bottom of an abyss.
Coveting is not a virtue.
You can vote your way into Socialism,
but you have to shoot your way out.
by Martin Braun
3/2/2020
Donald Trump has 306 electoral votes and Hillary Clinton has 232.
Hillary's supporters are causing violence and that is a lousy thing to do.
Her supporters claimed that Trump's supporters would cause violence if he lost.
Now Hillary's supporters are doing the exact same thing because they're crossed.
This hasn't been like an election, it has been like a circus.
Trump won fair and square and the rioting and violence fill me with disgust.
Google and CNN are hiding the fact that Donald Trump won the popular vote as well as the electoral.
But with 74 more electoral votes than Hillary, it's not surprising and this violent behavior is immoral.
Because of Trump's Triumph, Hillary's supporters are having a fit.
Trump won the election and the rioters need to grow up and get over it.
Life seemed rather bleak
The grey skies to him did speak
Of a better world
Somewhere, but not here
He was thought of with smiles
Always a good word
A Laugh or two
Who the hell thought, inside was all blue
He dressed up one day
As a gigantic peanut
Of to the circus he did go
Knowing his fate, he paid at the gate
An elephant’s eye lit up
A dessert finally of size
He ate the gigantic peanut
The skies have now turned gaily blue
They say committing suicide is nuts
This irony is that it turned out to be true
The coroner took care, waiting and waiting
At the elephants end, for suicides revenge
As the dark and despondent man quite frankly
Had such a shitty termination
The smell of sadness
Hangs in the air
Welcome to my Circus XX Style
_____________________________________
Welcome one and all,
to my circus of debauchery
hear the sounds of the lunatics
the sadist asylum.
Watch as the masochist play,
you should be wary
the psychotic idealistic righteousness
will wash out your wandering eyes.
Catch the bountiful bust of a trapeze artist fluttering by,
they will swing you to the star-filled heavens
but behind the doors of the stars lay secrets
care to venture into the devil's playground.
Come, let us play,
watch your step as you tiptoe across the beam
feeling frantically through the darkness
as my marauder of blood digest your sexual soul
Oh..don't O just yet,
we've only begun this pleasantly unpleasant journey
giggles and butterflies don't roam here
but sin brims the flesh of immortality.
Did you not play the games,
however, would you have found us
this quiet..sadistic place
and yet you are the sane ones?
Welcome one and all,
to your own self-gratification
your own animalistic facade
where the smell of the inmates excites you.
7/14/15
Jessica Thompson
Form:
While midnight bats are gnawing gnats and feasting free unseen,
a toddler’s fed from garbage sheds an elegant cuisine.
Along the trails in distant dales a lonesome wolverine
feigns appetite on fogy nights and days of crystalline.
The circus gongs excite the throngs in nighttime Never Land –
they swarm to see the destiny of Freaks at their command,
while Acrobats step pitapat across the shifting sands
and Lady Fat adores her cat and oozes charm unplanned.
The Dwarfs in suits, so small and cute when marching with the band,
ask crimson Clowns with painted frowns, to lend a mutant hand,
while Tamers’ whips with withered tips, throughout the winter land,
lure minds entranced through hoops enhanced with flames of fires fanned.
White Elephants in big-top tents sell black tusk contraband
to Sycophants in regiments who overflow the stands,
but No One sees anomalies, and No One understands.
At night’s demise, the dither dies, the lonely Crowd disbands,
down dead-end streets the Horde retreats, their threadbare rags in strands,
and Janes and Joes reweave their woes, for thoughts of change are banned.
Continued
How did the jungle get here?
Did it come on a train
like an old time circus
rolling in before dawn
while we splattered safety-nets
with doomsday drivel.
A rainforest has invaded;
has manifested out of alarm and
a far too high quotient
of native dumbness.
The clacking of parrots
mutes the lowing of milk cows,
only the cicada drone on
happy to click along.
This green thunder is oppressive.
The domestic canopies of backyards
are sprouting mythic Triffids.
Grass is getting spikey and carnivorous.
Tabby cats are abducted
by prowling panthers.
Giant sloths hang from the hedgerows.
Did we dream up this primal Eden?
Did we cancel
the regular unpredictable weather
of predictable Ohio?
Global Warming
could never have appeared to be real
if we had not made it so
by thinking it so,
and as so many here
think very little -
we had it coming.