In My Circus

Ginger and Citrus Leaf Teamaking ginger and blood orange leaf tea for my cranky tummy

I want tea to be coffee,
and ginger chocolate beans.
I wish for life to be a circus
tent, where nothing goes hungry
or sick or dead or extinct…

In my circus, I’m a mad cat
with a crimsonly chic hat
and a silvery grin
slightly cracked.

Fresh coffee flowers brew wild
in my circus, that’s a garden
in a kettle. I take my blooms
everywhere, and spread them slyly
on tables on pianos and saloons.

I want
tea to be coffee.
I wish
for Wonder to be free
Land.

You?

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the wee notes…
– Today Vanessa Valencia celebrates her 9th annual Mad Tea Party. And because I’m hosting over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, I invited the prompts to dance together. I chose to pair (actually trio) the Mad Tea Party theme with Words Count with Mama Zen (Is your life a circus?) and Rommy Drik’s The Way of Tea, specifically this quote: “Once a flower’s season has passed, it should not be brought in from another location for display in the tearoom.” Yes, Rommy, I’m a tea brewing rebel. Muahahahaha! *cough, cough, better get more ginger, cough*
– Do fly over to The Garden and to A Fanciful Twist to see what everyone else is brewing.
– So… if your life was a circus, what would your tent look like? I wonder, wonder, wonder…

Tim Burton’s Cheshire CatTim Burton’s Cheshire Cat
colored by moi
snatched from Print the World: Super Coloring

Under My Thorns

My skin is made of sentient thorns,
coated with well lived words
and a patch of forget-me-nots,
which shields all that grows
in the chambers of my heart.

Once upon three forevers ago,
while my hips were lines
and my chest was too new to feed
anyone but me, I believed

my forget-me-nots were too dear,
too costly for me to afford a blooming coat
that could cover me from thought to step—

then and now, I’ve been wrong
so many times. The flowers do cost,
but deep-deep-deep, under my thorns,
forget-me-nots grow wild and free.

Where only I (and my chosen) can feel,
thorn turns to petal, love rules the field.
Outside, where hate often licks unseen,
my thorns are ready to impale its tongue,
to deny its rotting kiss.

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a wee note…
The last few days have been emotionally charged to the brim. The horrors that touched France are rippling through the feeling world, making anyone (with a brain and heart) rage and mourn. I tend to cope with most of my raging and mourning, by morphing them into words. So I was thankful when Sanaa, over at Prompt Nights, asked for poetry that reminded us that “Hate’s a parasite that rots the Soul”. And at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Karin is “In the Market for Poems” that make us “Consider some kind of bargain, exchange, purchase, promise.” I’m also linking this piece to Poets United (Poetry Pantry #311).

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Frankenstein and Forget-Me-Nots, by Winter Moon“Frankenstein and Forget-Me-Nots”, by Winter Moon Vintage
(You can find this art print and much more on her Society6 shop. And if you delight in her work as much as I do, you might also want to follow her blog).