surviving a circus

the clown waits for the tingling
bell of classical conditioning
to produce the act for retaining
every measure of survival —

i had never seen the red-nosed
darling open his carnival mouth of
blood candy & enameled smokes.

he told me of a lion’s solipsism
jumping through the hoops of
an urban jungle, quite similar to
a modern generational shift, from
a Randian objectivism to graffiti.


the bell is rung at the last step of
a sleepy night’s solo performance,
to wake me from a circus dream
in which i am but a rope dangling
from the canopy,

for all the poor souls
to climb, and flee from
a cannibal crowd, caterwauling
like Circe in waiting.

© Anmol Arora 2018

For dVerse Poetics: Come to the Circus!
Image source (Circus, 2011, by Leslie Bender)

*Edited some more for With Real Toads’ Tuesday Platform


I have been working on a new Insta handle for over a month now, for literary and creative posts: @anmol.ha.
For contact, you can reach out to me through my multiple profiles, enlisted here.

Circus of Emotions

circus of emotions, finding a way to fly,

leaving a tail of silver glittering fire,

the residue of what once was dear to heart,


the land where, one had found the strength,

time to bid goodbye, to those boulders,

(which are now broken into sand kernels),


as the crescent moon gazes, meditating

at the scene of sultry separation,


the circus of emotions in tatters, flying

away, with the memories of those lives,

no longer tied, to the rope of significance,


I close my eyes… I am that pulled apart earth,

bidding goodbye to the circus, and along with it,

a farewell, to what all were my dreams once


* The art work is by Catrin Welz Stein. You can find more of her work at

** A quick piece for dVerse Poetics.