7) Circus
Kids craning their necks,
Amidst feeble claps,
Smell of animal dung
And glaring lights all around.
Unusual acts performed
In colorful costumes.
People living on the edge,
Of fame and lameness.
The phony weights and
Fake roars,
And an accidental death,
In the final act.
In no man’s land,
Almost every year,
It comes and goes,
Leaving tent marks.
Because of a free pass,
I also went to see,
To find forgotten memories,
But were beyond remembrance.
1 comment:
1> Circus
I had read Ramanujam’s poems, liked his style, and mixing it with attempt to look at circus from a very non-middle class view. Based on an imaginary circus, I grandiosely tried to see it as a mini representation of the world…
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