Love Is A Circus

Love is a circus,

love is the incongruity of skirted elephants,

the heart-stopping pause on the swaying wire

in nowhere-wreathing roof-worlds,

a million miles from earth;

love takes gallant risk of plummetting fall;

love is a spangled shine,

a sequinned dance,

a bom! bom! bom!

on the bursting big-heart drum;

love is the flap-foot march of clowns,

ballooning pantaloons all pregnant with disaster;

and love is too the star-shaped eyes

that cry behind a painted mask,

and have a need for children

and a broken tune...

love is afearful juggling with air-born, circling hopes,

a balancing upon a cutting-edge of trust;

love is a breath-shaking, dazzling, rioting, shouting, joy-strung razzamatazz

in the wild big top of the soul...

(January, 1986)

Skipping Rhyme

Monday’s child is fair of face,

She’s black-eyed, poised, with curly hair;

She’s brown, she’s Afro.  Dark disgrace

stalks through her mind; and cries beware

of Tuesday’s child - so full of grace,

the muddied road-child, thin and worn,

who slips into the neighbour space

and touches her, the eye withdrawn.

Wednesday’s children, full of woes,

fearful, careful, touch-me-not;

who smells?  who hates?  who steals?  who knows

what timid trust there grows?  knows what

their Thursday hopes, with far to go,

will reach, will hold?  One smiles; lets fall

a web of sunlight, soft and slow.

Comes back a shadowed, shy “hello”.

Brown Friday’s child tries loving and giving

her drawing pens, those building bricks

of learning, reading, adding, living;

Saturday’s child works hard for its living,

and comes dew-degged, fire-smoked, and why?

She brings from nature’s reckless giving

a world-round puffball, sliced to fry.

Each child, new born as the Sabbath day,

skips high, skips low, in one looped rope;

both bonny, blithe, both good and gay,

each turns and turns within that hope.

’Jungle bunny, chocolate drop;

                             one, two, three - hop;

                             tinker, taylor, diddakoi;

                             five, six, seven - hoy!

                                                     - and out.

(1986)

Haiku: Colour

Love is a prism

splintering my happiness

into a rainbow.

(April, 1986)

Haiku: Apple Buds

Hold budding hopes high;

set your orchards in the stars;

harvest appled gold.

(Summer, 1986)

Haiku: Behind Is A Door

Behind is a door;

in front a shining window.

Both closed.  Life’s like that.

(1986)