Circus in Three Rings Poem by Sylvia Plath

Circus in Three Rings

Rating: 5.0


In the circus tent of a hurricane
designed by a drunken god
my extravagant heart blows up again
in a rampage of champagne-colored rain
and the fragments whir like a weather vane
while the angels all applaud.

Daring as death and debonair
I invade my lion's den;
a rose of jeopardy flames in my hair
yet I flourish my whip with a fatal flair
defending my perilous wounds with a chair
while the gnawings of love begin.

Mocking as Mephistopheles,
eclipsed by magician's disguise,
my demon of doom tilts on a trapeze,
winged rabbits revolving about his knees,
only to vanish with devilish ease
in a smoke that sears my eyes.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Julia Luber 12 March 2019

Sounds like a weird LSD trip, in containment.

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Paresh Chakra 27 November 2018

It is a very nice poem 10++++++++

0 1 Reply
Britte Ninad 13 August 2018

drunken god= was her husband! extravagant heart= was her husband's abnormal behavior! Daring as death= family oppression! lion's den= in house of rude husband! jeopardy flames= husbands slang language whip with a fatal flair = husband's physical torture perilous wounds= wounds in sensitive limbs! Mephistopheles= husband! magician's disguise= husband's activities before the world! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

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Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath

Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts
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