Circus

The colours of your grass theatre 
are blood red and ice blue.
You arrive with a tang of petrol
we admire what you do.
You bring us glamour and danger
as you ride bareback, tumble and spin
appearing to be boneless
you flex your elastic skin.
On your Wheel of Death, your Globe of Terror
you claw back victory from calamity.
We watch as you dance on air
you seem to defy our gravity.
If we could, we would follow you.
We are drawn by your weightless jeopardy.

The twisted sisters

Three scarlet hussies – watch them scheme
These shameless women make me sick
The twisted sisters – Ed’s harem
What do they want? The moon on a stick?
With their compassion and generosity
They are the enemy within
They will destroy our austerity
They’ll let more foreigners in
We’ve seen their sort before
Yes, they’re very BBC this lot
They’ll punish the rich and favour the poor
The Welsh woman, the green and the Scot
All of them are brazen idealists
We are being held hostage – by pacifists!

Staying in

Darkness falls; a gathering gloom
brings shadows and parakeets
chattering into my room.
It is swift here, the extinction of dusk.
The coming of night shape shifts.
In this muffled suburbia
squares of light draw one in
cozy interiors - an advent calendar.
I hope that something will tempt me
that a new mood, like a sudden landfall
will prise me from the window.
Perhaps I have grown too attached to them -
the clouds of bright birds and the eucalyptus
I turn back to the window. It's too easy to stay in.