Chariton Iowa has a carnival every Fourth of July
The entire town flocks up there to watch them set up
They are open for business in a few hours
Ferris wheel, merry-go-round, tilt-a-whirl
The true magic happens in the evening
sky is lit by neon lights fancier than a sheriff’s topper
ambiance is mystical and magical
you can hear the screams of carnival riders
wonderful smells fill the air – funnel cakes and caramel apples
lines waiting for them as long as a box car
everyone chattering together, for this is a small town
two or three people carry large pink or blue teddy bears
barkers try to entice me to spend my money
I know better than to give up everything on the “maybe” wins
I am heading for the Ferris wheel and tilt-a-whirl
the merry-go-round is for the little ones. They are giggling
Strangely, the carnival in the evening is ten times more magical
Because of the sky? The crowd? The emphasis on the bright lights?
No idea, but it always seems like a dream come true, a fairy land
Something to cherish until the next Fourth of July
I’m tired of the teeter-totter polemics
that pass for profundity.
I’m tired of the see-saw tug of war,
the streaming regurgitation on every channel.
Yes, I’m weary of the predictable posturing,
the vapid, barren landscapes of the oligarchy.
I am groggy in the dull fog of capitalist pretense,
the plutocratic hubris sold by carnival barkers.
I am worn down by the endless banal chatter,
the mindless daily clutter flooding all our
electronic screens, all our senses.
Scientists in a million years will
try to decipher our primitive etchings.
Our digital scribble will remain.
Will they recognize our AI ventriloquism?
Will they distinguish us from chimpanzees?
I don’t have answers in my advancing years.
I’ll find cozy books and trees instead,
while we still have them.
Guard dogs try to sleep in a deaf corner.
Smaller barkers do what they do best
from under bed or table.
Large bugs in the sky
keep blinking and teasing.
They jig and jag
and only the dogs
and a few elderly cats
can hear them.
Whirligigs descend only to disappear,
spinning wings bite the air.
K9 units are advised
to use extreme caution,
it's almost as if
we know that they know.
Town Full Of Sound
I use to live in
A town full of sound
With Roller Coasters
And Merry Go Round
Horns would blast
To sound an alarm
I use to live in
A town full of sound
I use to live in
A town full of sound
Pinballs were zinging
And barkers would hound
Foghorns were blaring
A mournful fog song
I use to live in
A town full of sound
I use to live in
A town full of sounds
Salt water taffy
Came clacking on down
The bandstand was swinging
Those Glen Miller songs
I use to live in
A town full of sound
I use to live in
A town full of sound
Where all sorts of music
Played all over town
Screech of the crowd
As the Comet roared down
I use to live in
A town full of sound
Bill MacEachern May 2, 2024
Late 1940s England
the square
was packed
& the high street full
meat&veg seemed plentiful
market barkers
drew the queues
with jokes
impromptu
shoppers filed
neat& formal
in sainsburys greggs
& home colonial
the bacon slicer
shuttled back& forth
rashers scaled
in halves&fourths
bread mealed smooth&strong
butter patted shaped oblong
cheese cut with twangy wire
toasted later on an open fire
ham sliced from the bone
spuds bagged weighed in stones
tea from open square tins
packet-served with a welcome grin
'woollies' snackbar smells
'elevenses' hunger time to quell
one mug of ovaltine must'nt dally
so shortcut thru' market alley
where auctioneers tones rise&fall
above the sheep&cattle stalls
then off homewards at a trot
last pennies spent in feaseys sweetshop
on the train bridge 'spotted' numbers new
waited whilst the 'cutler' raced thru'
along pebble brook time to climb a tree
on this day shopping was made coupon-free
I watch carnival of carnivals quickly unfold
intense barkers are yelling as if their large bears are gold
seeing ultimate thin man and fat lady never gets old
fortune tellers are so unique, they’ve created their mold
tickets are being traded, fought over, bought and sold.
elaborate stories are being bandied about in the cold.
silver is crossing palms, upsells are extremely bold.
acrobats are doing tricks with agile bodies that fold.
from the tilt-a-whirl ride an old man just fell and rolled.
kewpie dolls nod from their shelves inside the fold.
merry-go-round horses are touched up with gold.
old women are wearing minks, flashing that they're stolled.
carnival of carnivals is a treat that never gets old.
cotton candy is pink and puffy, spun right out of gold.
tickets are being traded, fought over, bought and sold.
traveling from town to town, her tales quickly unfold.
I Watched While the World Slept
The simple minds are sleeping
On the threshold of the moon
While nocturnal wolves are weeping
None hear the barkers swoon
Darkness is uncertain
Most will never see The other side of the curtain
Yet I’m awake perpetually
Miles of asphalt vacant
It belongs to me
When the sun runs rampant
I let go reluctantly
Dying quasars gleaming
Exclusively for me
A million suns rotating
Under weight of gravity
A sleeping world doesn’t see
When my day has begun
Confined to solitary
I have become undone
The night belongs to me!
who is winning?
me?
my bike?
the ferris wheel?
the loud carnival barkers?
or the boats?
the boy turned to see
amazed it was him
It might have been his first win
I SIT IN FRONT
OF THE TV SCREEN
WATCHING NOTHINGNESS
THAT APPEARS TO BE REAL
TO
APPEAL
TO
THE VIEWER’S VISCERAL FEEL
BUT IN REALITY
NO MORE REAL
THAN THE BARKERS SPIEL
OR THE SALESMAN'S DEAL
WATCH OUT
ON THE WORLD’S TV SCREEN
FOR THE SALESMAN ‘S STEAL
AND THEIR PROMISE TO HEAL
TIGHTEN REAL TIGHT YOUR RESOLVE
AND BE READY TO CLOSE OFF
THE FOLLOW UP
ATTEMPT TO BE HAD
Clamor of the midway delights our ears
Calliopes from the old merry-go-round,
Shouts of the barkers, games one hears
Clamor of the midway delights our ears,
Squeals of children, roller coaster fears
Combine to make up that special sound,
Calliopes from the old merry-go-round
Clamor of the midway delights our ears.
Written August 22, 2022
With apologies to Albert Camus
I once was a circus strongman,
Sovereign of midway spectacles.
I wore a leopard-skin loincloth
And a lion-claw necklace.
My club was seasoned hardwood.
I proudly dragged my knuckles
Through the sawdust and straw.
I wrestled the orangutan
And boxed the kangaroo.
I tore phone books in half
With my teeth.
I became a star promotion
With elevation from sideshow freak
To a main ring attraction.
My charisma was marketed
By carnival barkers and snake oil shills.
My future in show biz seemed bright.
My manner was summertime light,
And then came the fall.
The spring carnival will soon be arriving
With exciting rides and strange exotic shows,
Loudspeakers will blare with old disco jiving
Flickering neon lights causing nocturnal glows.
With exciting rides and strange exotic shows
Featuring the weird and impossible stunts,
Flickering neon lights causing nocturnal glows
Barkers and showmen, workers, and grunts.
Featuring the weird and impossible stunts
Parents shielding children from scanty-clad girls,
Barkers and showmen, workers, and grunts
Steer them to Ferris Wheel and Tilt-a-Whirls.
Parents shielding children from scanty-clad girls
Enticing naïve bumpkins to enter the tents,
Steer them to Ferris Wheel and Tilt-a-Whirls
Where good times are had with better sense.
Parents shielding children from scanty-clad girls
Loudspeakers will blare with old disco jiving,
Steer them to Ferris Wheel and Tilt-a-Whirls
The spring carnival will soon be arriving.
HONORABLE MENTION
written March 30, 2022
"Carnival Time" Poetry Contest
All Poetry
July 10, 2022
I can hear the screams of happy children a block away from the square
It is the fourth of July, the only day we have a carnival in our town
The tilt-a-whirl and the Ferris wheel are in their usual places.
How they manage to do this the same way every year is astounding.
Barkers are begging us to give up our dimes; I keep walking.
All of my money is going for rides, and cotton candy – hopefully pink.
It is crowded already; old people are sitting in lawn chairs watching.
Kids are running in and out of the crowd.
Blinking lights are everywhere.
There is such happiness here; my heart gives a bit of a jump.
People are smiling from every direction.
There are strollers and mommies.
We walk rapidly past them to get the next seat on the Ferris wheel.
It is always a magical day when the carnival comes – July 4th, every single year.
Flawed Masquerade Carnival
Upon the midway of imperfection,
The traveling human circus, “illusion” of perfection,
A masquerading “mask,” in carnival unmasked,
Lies “cracked” in equinox
Like “torn” tickets discarded in the sawdust of dreams
As the “façade” crashes down into “flawed” fragments
To scatter splinters in wild spinning carousels
Flinging away the costumes of sideshows
All exposed wearing nothing but transparent truth.
Bathed in dignity
Integrity rises up shaking off ballyhooed dust
Shuts out the carney’s “broken” come-ons,
Taunts and barkers no longer entice,
Clothed in capes woven of calypso sunlight
Scarred arms, no longer concealed,
Reach out to clasp thundering pure moonbeams
Discarding charade’s ragged camouflage
And the “imperfect” circus moves on to another town.
6-21-21
Contest: Flawed
Sponsor: Constance La France
Prompt words: flawed, mask, broken, cracked, façade, torn, illusion, imperfect
the square
was packed
& the high street full
meat&veg seemed plentiful
market barkers
drew the queues
with jokes
impromptu
shoppers filed
neat& formal
in sainsburys greggs
& home colonial
the bacon slicer
shuttled back& forth
rashers scaled
in halves&fourths
bread mealed smooth&strong
butter patted shaped oblong
cheese cut with twangy wire
toasted later on an open fire
ham sliced from the bone
spuds bagged weighed in stones
tea from open square tins
packet-served with a welcome grin
'woollies' snackbar smells
'elevenses' hunger time to quell
one mug of ovaltine must'nt dally
so shortcut thru' market alley
where auctioneers tones rise&fall
above the sheep&cattle stalls
then off homewards at a trot
last pennies spent in feaseys sweetshop
on the train bridge 'spotted' numbers new
waited whilst the 'cutler' raced thru'
along pebble brook time to climb a tree
on this day shopping was made coupon-free
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