Curled in her warm arms, rocking
as James Darren* sings on the radio.
At bedtime, she tells me stories of faeries
and ogres while rubbing my aching legs.
I’m dropped at another stranger’s tent.
Ignored, uneasy sleep in an empty corner
until her midnight voice returns, slurs,
“Let’s go.” Dad will never know.
Carnies’ front room partying with Barbie.**
Crawling from my room along the wall,
their curiosity is more entertained with
mine than Barbie, whisky, and weed.
Reading diary’s center ring epithet for her,
my hair is in her handfuls, slap after slap,
trapped under her on the floor
as she screams, “I’ll teach you…”
Off-key calliope tunes, haunted echoes
remind that the circus is always in town.
Yet rides, now old, fall down. Crumbling
clown honks to calloused learned ears.
Image (one that I truly adore): The Circus, by Albina Felski
A continuing thread through the stanzas is the circus.
*James Darren sang, “Goodbye Cruel World,” about running off to join the circus.
**Barbie is a pseudonym for one of a stream of interesting live-in babysitters we had.
The cadralor form is perfect for this prompt.
Ingrid is today’s host for dVerse’ Poetics. Ingrid says:
Now try your hand at writing your way out of a place of pain… Let’s always keep in mind Wordsworth’s definition of poetry as ’emotion recollected in tranquility.’
Tao Talk 
The separate tableaus of the cadralor combine in a powerful way. There is something immensely sad in something so broken as the one you paint.
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Thank you, Bjorn, yes there is.
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I find this somewhat frightening, Lisa.
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It was! It is, even after so many years later.
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You definitely nailed this one. Each stanza stood on their own but came together beautifully (considering the subject matter, that sound odd, bu you know what I mean!)
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Dale, thank you, and I know what you mean ❤
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🙂
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I love James Darren, aka Vic Fontaine! My favorite is “I’ll Be Seeing You.”
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Neat to know his real name. He has a smooth voice.
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You know, each of us has no difficulty conjuring up “pain” within the spectrum of our lives. This piece touches me emotionally. I send you retroactive hugs, and feel so sorry that this may be biographical.
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{{{{HUGS}}}} back, Glenn. I know you had a rough way to go also.
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If only there weren’t a need for these words. The past may be behind us, but it’s always with us. I hope that writing brings a resolve to continue moving forward.
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Well-said, Ken. Every time I share a piece of it, there is a feeling of catharsis but at the same time a feeling of betrayal. I had to use a paraphrase from an old cigarette commercial, but I’ve come a long way, baby. Thank you for your empathetic and affirming comment.
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You’re welcome.
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This is incredibly haunting, Lisa! I felt every word.
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Sanaa, thank you, and I’m sorry to bring you pain with the words 😦
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I wish I could go back and rewrite the script for you. And yet you have written such a rich and affirming one of your own. There’s no way to erase these images, but your life is rebuttal to them. Sending hugs, K.
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❤
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I’m sure all that pain was so confusing as a child and still a riddle as an adult. The cadralor is a great form for your piece, I think little flashes speak so much, thanks for sharing, sending hugs! 🤗
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Tricia, as a child, I think I had nothing to compare it to and so thought this is the way life is. As an adult I learned different. Now I see it as a burden that has had to be lifted off of my shoulders and put onto the guilty party. It truly is “not my circus, not my monkeys” anymore. Thank you very much for your comment and your support, Tricia ❤
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Yes, thank goodness you made it out of that fiasco, childhood shouldn’t be so hard!
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A heartbreaking story Li.
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Thanks, Sadje.
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You’re welcome
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Every poem you create / share comes from great depth (why I adore your writing) this one more than any I’ve read. Hugs, huge hugs from me, Lisa.
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Helen, I sincerely appreciate your kindness and your hugs. ❤
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I too love the image, and your choice of form, which does seem perfect. There’s a strong thread with the circus theme. In the end, all clowns crumble. A poem of great strength and endurance!
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Ingrid I love this: “In the end, all clowns crumble.” Thank you very much.
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Your welcome Lisa!
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Amazing exploration in how the fantastical and what might be another’s fantasy can be filled with pain. I love this, Lisa.
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Karen, I appreciate your perspective on this. Hadn’t considered it could be something another person fantasizes about. Maybe in another dimension they are! Thank you for reading and your comment.
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The piecemeal narrative is apropos to childhood and wells of wounding which remain in the psychic terrain. A therapist once told me, “every access is a re-frame,” meaning our willingness to go down and re-live those hurtful moments takes away some of the damaging charge. History has a way of improving as we heal, or try to. Well done –
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Wells of wounding is a good way of putting it. I remember a layman’s class I took close to 30 years ago (a counselor at a church taught it) took us through going back (in a meditative state) to the inner child and comforting them. I think your re-framing is similar in that it brings some salve to the wounds so they can heal. Thank you for your thoughtful comment, Brendan.
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Nice cadralor.
“The circus is alwsys in town” Bravo
Much💜love
Thanks for dropping by to read mine
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Thanks much, Gillena, and you’re welcome.
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I may never go to the circus again. “my hair is in her handfuls” is a wonderful phrase (if frightening)
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I understand, Phillip. It’s a danged messed up place. Thanks for reading and your comment.
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Your use of the form gives this the surreal quality of childhood, the memories we make without understanding the things that we see or feel, and what takes a lifetime to understand. I can relate to every single line, and feel all the terror, the distance, the immediacy, and the altered life that comes out of them. Excellent writing.
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Joy, I’m both sad and glad you can relate to them all. It’s difficult for anyone who hasn’t been through it to comprehend the experiences in their shaping influence. The “altered life” is a great way of putting it. Thank you for reading, your feedback, and your understanding.
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Pain stays coiled inside till we recognise it and then it uncoils leaving us in a daze. Li, I couldn’t erase the image of a bewildered girl. Hugs. ❤️
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Punam, many thanks. I’ve been whittling the snake down over the years. It’s venom has drained for the most part. Soon it will be an empty husk that can be washed down the drain…
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I am glad that the venom has drained. May there never be any bitterness. You are very welcome.
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I thoroughly enjoyed the vivid images throughout here that took me into your writing. Thanks for sharing.
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Thank you, TJS. Glad you enjoyed the trip to the fair.
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Lisa,
Like snapshots you use the form to shed light on what to a child would be confused darkness and pain and fear. They say children are resilient but only because as adults they carry the burden of what they couldn’t understand then. What scars they have left I pray healing for, dear Lisa.
pax,
dora
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Dora, thank you. You’re so right, so many times kids don’t have the language or the understanding they need in times of trauma, and when the person they are supposed to turn to for safety and understanding is the one hurting them, they feel alone in the wilderness. Thank you very much for your prayers, Dora. They are appreciated ❤
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perfect format for those stark but disjointed childhood memories, glimpses of a dark time you have been bleeding to expunge the bewilderment/hurt felt. You have had much to heal and grow from and you’ve done it with much aplomb.
I too wrote a response to Ingrid’s prompt but felt it too personal to share, you are far braver than me! I can write and talk about it with those I know and trust, just don’t feel comfortable airing on the www 🙂
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Kate, perfectly understandable about not wanting to share the deeply personal out on the www. Since I’ll never run for public office — oh they would have a field day with my history! — and the fact that I’m not protecting my abusers anymore, I feel more liberated in sharing. The hope is that someone who has been hiding or protecting someone who has or is hurting them will find courage to speak out.
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I found that speaking out created far more abuse – the assumption being that I was a liar – so we do need to be selective!
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😦 I’m so sorry to hear you were further abused by not being believed.
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oh you have no idea 😦
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I enjoyed that. Carnivals always interested me…the carnie life cannot be good. Oh and calliope music is likable and creepy at the same time.
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Glad you enjoyed this one, Max. I used to *love* to go to the carnival as a kid. It was a highlight in my world, truly! I agree about the calliope music.
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Oh I did also…I still excited seeing carnival lights in the dark…I think of the crane game that my dad and I played.
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You know I do too, but it’s been so many years since I went to the carnival. How cool that you and your dad played that game together. I was never any good at it. I loved the rides best, the scarier the better. Remember that ride that looked like a ferris wheel but it had those small cages that you rode in that would spin? My favorite ride! I also loved the Himalaya (if it went really fast.)
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Oh that ride I think…or a form of it was called The Zipper….I loved the tilt a whirl or spider….anything that would spin me around. I never liked heights though.
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