Introduction Poetry From 'Cricket'

Circus Comes To Town

I rarely ventured self to center,
still rarely seek the masses.
My narly-censured elf would enter,
to barely geek at classes.
Once a year, we need a clown,
with painted face and elephant shoes,
a wicked smile to chill my frown
when the Circus comes to town.

My coldness rendered child as barren,
and solstice brought no pleasure.
Elf's boldness-pressured style is foreign,
a solace wrought with treasure.
Unseen tear, poker-dot gown,
high wires with cotton candy colors,
a purple horse, all pain will drown
when the Circus comes to town.

As aging ponders lives worth living,
engaging wonders who was giving,
I remember self to Elf,
while paging friends from a dusty shelf,
"Hi, let's meet, go see a funny clown,
when the circus comes to town."

#2-

Broken Tranquility

My tranquil path is broken
by the stillness of a moment.
I watch the heron and his prey,
my old quill's wrath, - a token -
for a frog, with fly at bay.

No breezes move my lantern,
break stillness in a moment's breath.
Glistening grip's crisp lecturn,
mystery's marriage, - life and death.

My tranquil path is broken
by stillness in a moment's sigh,
wondering,
whose prey am I?

(c) cricket 2009 (Both)