Here is this week's prompt:
'This week, give yourself permission to eavesdrop and steal.'
So I have stolen from the Blog's How-To-Join page!
Here is the original quote:
"You are a member of the circus the moment you discuss a prompt, post a poem (or a link to a poem), comment on an article or participate in an activity. "
THE CIRCUS OF LIFE.
You, already, are a member of the circus,
For life is lived with sawdust and with paint,
Your ponies gallop round and round like crazy
As you pretend to be the things you aint!
You tackle great big lions in your dealings,
You juggle different balls up in the air,
You swing from high trapezes when you're happy
And do things that you never thought you'd dare.
But you're the Sad Clown when you lose your footing,
Although your nose may be a jolly red,
And it breaks your heart when people roar with laughter
Every time you fall and bang your stupid head!
Sometimes you chance to act as the Ringmaster,
In charge of everyone, top of your game!
At other times you're mucking-out the stables,
A thousand miles away from any fame.
Yes, Life's a Circus and we all are in it;
We live our lives beneath a huge Big Top.
We're dancing to the crazy blaring music
Hoping like mad that it will never stop.
*
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Memories are precious things. And some of the most poignant and precious are, in themselves, slight. This memory is slight, but it is always with me.
A WINTER'S TALE
The play was over.
All the giggling and terrible acting were done.
We were young village girls
Performing at a neighbouring village hall.
Was it two miles from home or more?
The distance escapes me.
Does it matter?
All that matters is the stars.
That and the frost.
Transport arrived to take us home.
Some would have to 'start walking'.
(In my memory we walked all the way.)
Does it matter?
All that matters is the stars.
That and the frost.
Five of us linked arms
And started walking homewards.
We didn't speak;
We had done with laughter
And bad acting.
Were there five of us?
Does it matter?
All that matters is the stars.
That and the frost.
The memory of that night
And that walk
Is with me still.
'A Winter's Tale'
Demands snow and a full moon.
We had no moon, no snow,
No Christmas-cardy
Effulgence of night-time glory.
We had a dark blue sky,
A billion stars,
And a road fast-crisping
In the icy stillness.
The air was bitter.
Our breath billowed out,
Temporarily clouding the stars.
Branches, whitening before our eyes,
Stood stiffly,
Surely ready to snap.
We walked in unison,
Briskly, because of the cold.
One could almost say we marched.
No words were spoken,
Yet such a sense of companionship
Pervaded that night
That I remember the silence
As a meaningful conversation.
We spread out
Right across the vehicle-free road.
(This was 1947 remember!)
What a poor old 'Winter's Tale'!
Silence,
Except for the
Sound of flinty feet
On the fast-frosting road.
And the vision of periwinkle stars.
*
