the clown waits for the tingling
bell of classical conditioning
to produce the act for retaining
every measure of survival —
i had never seen the red-nosed
darling open his carnival mouth of
blood candy & enameled smokes.
he told me of a lion’s solipsism
jumping through the hoops of
an urban jungle, quite similar to
a modern generational shift, from
a Randian objectivism to graffiti.
~
the bell is rung at the last step of
a sleepy night’s solo performance,
to wake me from a circus dream
in which i am but a rope dangling
from the canopy,
for all the poor souls
to climb, and flee from
a cannibal crowd, caterwauling
like Circe in waiting.
.
© Anmol Arora 2018
For dVerse Poetics: Come to the Circus!
Image source (Circus, 2011, by Leslie Bender)
*Edited some more for With Real Toads’ Tuesday Platform
***
I have been working on a new Insta handle for over a month now, for literary and creative posts: @anmol.ha.
For contact, you can reach out to me through my multiple profiles, enlisted here.
i am but a rope dangling
from the canopy, for all the poor souls
to climb and escape,
like that a lot. And the resonance between “circus” and “Circe”. Very accomplished. Thanks for dropping by.
LikeLiked by 2 people
“i had never seen the red-nosed
darling open his carnival mouth
of blood candy & enameled smokes.”
I am reminded of growing up with Father – the ringmaster – he could be cruel and twisted.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Ringmasters are all business, for they are hosting. Your dreams puts us halfway between carnival fun house and circus tent; scared me a bit.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Clever metaphor of the rope. Its no fun to have people climb all over you except for the circus applause
One has to be wary of dreams risk and dare
Thanks for dropping by my blog today
Much😊💛😊love
LikeLiked by 2 people
Enthralling poem, I enjoyed the nightmarish imagery and the flow- a reader can ride this like a wave.
LikeLiked by 2 people
The image and the poem have a distinct nightmarish quality, especially:
‘i had never seen the red-nosed
darling open his carnival mouth
of blood candy & enameled smokes’.
I don’t exactly have a clown phobia but they do scare me!
The lines that leaped out at me are:
‘…a circus dream
in which i am but a rope dangling
from the canopy, for all the poor souls
to climb and escape’
and the play on the words ‘circus’ and ‘Circe’.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I agree with the nightmarish imagery…and sometimes a circus seems very close to the real real world…
LikeLiked by 2 people
I agree with the others about the nightmarish quality of this. The conditioning and the waiting make it seem like it’s recurring, too. The repetition of the hard c sounds in the last stanza is very compelling.
LikeLiked by 2 people
what an image you created with the rope dangling and souls using it as a means of escape
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yes, that dangling rope was a wonderful image…a way out.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I like all those “c” sounds in the last three lines.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Great stuff. I like the modern generational shift and the cannibal crowd. The music enhanced the effect as something Alfonso Ponticelli-like, dark and gypsy, or some of the opening scenes of Márquez’s ‘Hundred Years of Solitude’: magical and foreboding.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I rather like Circe. If she changed those drunken sailors into pigs it was for a reason.
LikeLiked by 3 people
in which i am but a rope dangling
from the canopy… that can be terrifying- whether it is there as salvation or not. Peppered with great references as well!!!
LikeLiked by 2 people
“i had never seen the red-nosed
darling open his carnival mouth
of blood candy & enameled smokes.”
This is such a gripping account and glimpse into the horrors that lurk in this world!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Fascinating poem; enjoyed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The stuff of nightmares. I never liked circuses and clowns. This was a scary read.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I hope you are a very strong rope, then! It’s a lot to take on.
Your image of the open mouth made me begin to understand why some people have a clown phobia.
All in all, brilliantly ominous.
(Love the guitars.)
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’m one of those folks who actually like clowns, and loved reading your beautifully written poem. I could write a poem about caterwauling … think I will.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is a fun read, a busy exercise. I stopped at the transformation to graffiti to look again at your picture find. I wonder if the “Randian objectivism” forms were freehanded or if a curve stencil had been used. I also liked the gentle exit from the dream. Not the ordinary abrupt dream ending.
..
LikeLiked by 2 people
I think already we are ourselves part of the worlds circus, unaware of course thinking we are still in control, but we had lost privilege that long ago.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is a superbly written, and chilling view of the human condition. the middle movement is particularly noteworthy.. brilliantly conceived in all.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sometimes the world we live in feels so much like a dystopian circus, it threatens to put nightmares out of business. Though those that create art can indeed be a lifeline for those seeking respite, even if it’s only for a moment.
LikeLiked by 2 people
A deeper message performing at the circus. A wonderful write! I love it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your imagery is so vivid. I especially like that dangling rope as you woke from the dream.
LikeLiked by 1 person
wow, I love the intense imagery straddling the lines of dreams and nightmares
LikeLiked by 2 people