The Day the Circus

Dear Readers,
I really am more creative at night! My best poems always come to me when I'm already in bed with the light turned off. But, I always get the best results when I actually get back up and finish the poem instead of waiting until the morning - so here it is: my latest poem! I hope you all like it, its not quite like anything I've done before. I've been reading a lot of TS Eliot and his strange rhythm and rhyme is definitely at work in this poem. Its also a very dire poem, but don't read very far into that: I've just been reading the Waste Land which is very dire. So don't call me and want to talk about this "depression" because I'm actually really enjoying my time at Westmont so far.....all 2 days of it. Also to note: this is a very very VERY rough version of the poem. I actually just completed it a couple seconds ago, so this is in no way going to be a magnum opus or anything. OK, have to go (back) to bed! Here's my poem: (PS - feedback is MUCH appreciated!)


The day the Circus came to town

The day the circus came to town
the masses came in droves,
flocked like crows
to see the freaks and clowns.
The crunch of gravel hung
between the jaded streets,
a symphony of feet
herded on by weary patrons.

But now the red tents are
gone, and the tired streets look
beaten in this light. I might look
that way too, if I screamed
“suburban”
all day long.

Look again
Look again

The streets are full of hollow men
and girls in pink tights say
If only I looked like them
to the gaunt faces of pages
who only stare back
from their windowless cages.

And now the day packs up
and leaves us only with black,
the top hat
of a day which rests on nothing but
weary bones and a sweaty forehead.