Poems on Performance – Circus poem 4. Fellini

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Circus poem 4: Fellini



my tongue unfurls ‘Fellini’

salivating films

watched at an impressionable age;

Your Women ring

in my ears like coiffured charms

to guide, through black and white forests

(home to Jung and

Sixties circus music).

Thank you for the Archetypes.


They swarm now…

mosquito-muses biting arms

when I fall/ replicate: Benign Mother, Ravenous Mistress,

Lovely Innocent‘Pa-o-la’ or ‘Clou-di-a’

rising, white from antique ruins

                        are belles on high branches now…

chiming Juliet of the Spirits:


‘ remember…remember which…

Remember Witch!…Who you?… who you were

born. To be…come…  be/come.’


This path, shot in black/ivory

contrast is too much truth

defined as their couture bodies

cut by the shutter,

style overrides feeling matter.

Symbols replace guttural pain.

Sex is wit, no more, no less… if

costumed in black-tie, pouring champagne

down your silk as fountains of absinth



Tiptoeing the kitchen-sink –

Britain – blight

and might of Channel Four

jingles in crowded

common rooms, festivals

singing sex in foreign fields,

‘Il Maestro’s’ double note

chiming UP-CLOSE:

‘Madonna … Madonna/whore…



Tamsin FlowerJan14’

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