“Circus-Apprentice” by Katherine Gallagher

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Circus-Apprentice

 

I’m learning it all – acrobatics, clowning,

riding bareback and trapeze,

fire from a sleeve: my hand’s a wand.

I weave my life around dancing elephants

who spray the air while turning their backs

on the crowd;

lions who never put a foot wrong.

I’m taking their cue, I’ve seen

what people want.

Prancing ponies teach me steps:

pacing, adroitness, like my fellow-dancers

keeping their spot.

I’m walking the high-wire, making my mark

poised, balanced, don ’t look away –

you are my gravity’s other edge.

© Katherine Gallagher

(Published in Carnival-Edge: New & Selected Poems (Arc Publications, 2010)

“Make Your Own Circus” by Louise McCarthy

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Make Your Own Circus

 

For sale! A bargain! A circus tent!

You’ll find that it’s really money well spent.

It has an arena and one thousand chairs,

The overall floor space is fifty-one squares.

It’s as high as it’s wide,

But now empty inside…

You see…

I was a ringmaster,

I was a clown,

I walked the tightrope,

I swung upside down,

While riding a unicycle I juggled ten balls;

It was fun!

It was life!  Oh I had a ball!

The ups and the downs; the highs and the lows,

But now it is time- I take my repose.

I start a fresh role; a chapter that’s new-

I recall my experiences and tell them to you.

So what do you say – a bargain or no?

I bought this canvas a long time ago.

So if you are keen this tent is for you –

Sometimes there’ll be cheers; sometimes there’ll be boos.

 

“Juggling” by J.R. Poulter

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“Tragedy at Circus Flea” By Kylie Covark

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Nanna Sue is training fleas,

She feeds them piles of buttered peas,

They jump through hoops

And swing trapeze,

Performing with such skill and ease.

But look out please, my darling fleas!

Brace your elbows!

Lock your knees!

Your circus trainer’s going to sneeze;

A devastating Nanna breeze!

We weep and wail at times like these.

Such sudden, strange catastrophes.

“Leo the Lion” by Toni Newell

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Leo the Lion.

 

I’ve been in a circus, for almost five years,

I have been taught tricks, and also to fear.

The whip has cracked, and I’m told to stand,

On my hind legs, at his command.

I’m asked to jump up, onto a stool,

And obey these orders, just like a fool.

The whip has cracked, and I jump off,

The Ringmaster bows and his hat does doff.

I hear the audience, clap and cheer,

And my heart feels heavy as it’s clear,

That I will never, ever again roam free,

And I’ll be forced to stay here,  in misery.

Now I’m told to strut around,

Then I drop onto the ground,

Where I roll over once, then twice,

And then again, which makes it thrice.

The whip has cracked, and up I stand,

Back onto the stool at his command.

Now I jump,  through hoops, on fire,

Whilst the audience gasps, as if in a choir.

And I wonder, would they like to be,

Here in this cage, instead of me.

After my job,  has been done,

I’m returned to the small cage, I can see the sun,

I close my eyes and sniff the breeze,

And imagine  I’m back in the wild, under trees.

 

Teacher Notes

For and Against animals in circus

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

”Muse on the Moon” by Celia Berrell

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Muse on the Moon

The Moon reveals so many things
for humankind to ponder on.

An anchor in celestial seas
or lunar clock to gaze upon.

Ambassador for gravity,
this Queen of Tides is mighty strong.

A temptress for astrology’s
imagined magic – right or wrong.

Love’s locket hung in silent song
reflecting what the Sun once shone.

Ellipse, eclipsed and wandered on,
our lunar quests go on and on.

The Moon reveals so many things
for humankind to wonder on.

 

“The Anzac March” by Toni Newell

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“Honeycomb Home” by Andrew Carter

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Honeycomb Home

 

Roses are red, red abuzz

With bees buzzing buzzes.

Violets are truly blue!

 

If Peace was made of honey

We’d each have a piece

Of harmony, both me and you.

 

When I send peaceful words

They don’t harm or disturb

I write, yet Im not alone.

 

Being born to a chalice, a buzz

Belies my writing palace,

Buzzing busily on my throne.

 

I consider wise words

Of kindness with mad verbs,

My honey, my peace flies home.

 

“The Australian dead at Villers-Bretonneux” by James Aitchison

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ANZAC DAY POEM