Best Cotton Candy Poems
Cotton candy castles
When you look closely at an idea,
it has no weight.
The holes seem to weigh
more than the thought itself
The idea can never happen.
It can never be real.
It is too preposterous,
too stupid.
The light is shined into
the cavity of a brain, and
the ideas melt away like
bits of spun sugar melting
in your mouth. Small, Insignificant
Fluff never to be seen again.
You try to save the fluff.
Keep it from the light.
But no matter how
the idea hides, it cannot
escape the scrutiny of the
world. The idea flees
from the light, and
collides with another
idea fleeing the same fate.
The holes from one idea
fill in the holes of the other.
The idea grows
Bigger, and collides
with more ideas. Their
holes gaining more and
more weight until
they are what the world calls
concrete.
Now the idea is something
to be reckoned with.
The idea could change the
world. It could bring an
alternate eternity
into life. The idea could
do ANYTHING.
It continues to grow
little spun fibers of
fluff gathering speed,
gathering power, gathering
weight.
Until the weight is too
much to hold the holes
together, and the idea
is scattered, like fluff
in the wind. The weight
of the wholes, is more than
the weight of the idea.
.
Pampas Grass' tassles
Shooting upward fresh new
Beauty filled short life
Summer's surf rising from ivory tides be her light...
Reflecting from an hourglass these prisms she sways
Breaking waves their eyes conversations ladies they gaze.
Sometimes
life should be about
nothing more than
swirly upside down rides
and blue cotton candy
for in the end
pasts can’t be taken back
only relived
and the truth is
I’d rather live
happily
with my blue tongue
than die
with the past’s
bitter taste
on my lips.
8-8-09
With cotton candy
Pink and dandy,
Funnel cakes, sweet
All you can eat
A Ferris wheel
To make you squeal,
The carousel
Sure looks swell
Toss a ring
To win something,
Pop a balloon
You'll get it soon
Try to get that prize
Go for the biggest size,
Win a pet if you wish
Take home a goldfish
Stay there all night
For every sound and sight,
Like a kid again, be
So much to do and see
Show off what you do
Win a ribbon, blue,
Shower what you raise
With the highest praise
Craft and quilt
By hands built,
Goodness canned
Grown on the land
Pumpkins and pies
To delight the eyes,
Each cow and pig
The biggest of the big
Farmer's best on display
Sat in a pile of hay,
Take in the dairy air
At the county fair!
In the quiet of a morning
where sunlight spills over the edges of dreams,
I catch a glimpse of the lost-
a girl with tangled hair,
a heart wrapped in a paper-thin shell,
her laughter still echoing in the stillness,
suspended like dust in a sunbeam.
She wanders through hallways of mirrors,
each reflection a question,
each scar a story,
the fabric of her skin stitched with shadows
that whisper of battles fought in silence.
What does it mean to be whole
when the pieces slip through fingers
like sand through an hourglass?
Outside, the world unfurls,
a carnival of colors,
the pink of cotton candy,
the blush of cherry blossoms swaying,
yet she feels like a ghost
wandering a landscape painted in grayscale,
wondering if she is the canvas or the brush,
the artist or the art.
In moments of stillness,
the heart beats louder than reason,
and she gathers the fragments,
the shards of herself scattered
like leaves in autumn winds,
wondering if she can stitch them back
into a tapestry bright enough
to warm the coldest nights.
But time, that relentless tide,
pulls and pushes,
inviting the tides of despair and delight,
and she learns to cradle her imperfections,
each flaw a petal in a bouquet
that blooms in defiance of the storm.
Perhaps it is enough,
to stand in the center of the chaos,
to breathe in the cacophony of life,
to know that even the broken
can sing a song of resilience,
a melody woven from the threads of wounds,
the chorus of "I am enough"
echoing through the valleys of doubt.
So she lifts her chin,
gazes at the horizon stretching,
the sun a promise,
the clouds a canvas,
and in that moment,
understanding unfurls like wings,
the weight of wonder
lifting her toward the vastness-
that to be imperfect is to be beautifully alive.
You explain your thoughts away.
Like cotton candy on a windy day
As your adventures never seem to end.
Talk of riding roller coasters straight to
heaven and back again.
You say you're an angel incarnate disguise.
Though you never say how you know this.
You're always wanting to sit by the sea.
You say, it's to wait for your lover, And
You're most definitely sure it's not me.
You take me on rides I've never been before.
I know I could get off your merry-go-round.
Not really sure how to do that, though.
As you show me the many possibilities of me.
Though I watch you slit your wrist.
As you let the blood run free.
And I do nothing to stop you.
Only because you want to be set free.
Fri. 11 pm 7/ 19/ 2013
The day ends in soft sunset as it turns to twilight
The moon’s visage shines at night
Illuminating the scene with its mysterious almost eerie blue light
Cotton candy childhoods’ delight
Is sold by the store
During the day above it birds will soar
Children and adults alike cotton candy adore
It’s strange look for a candy that taste buds will explore
The lantern splashes its light on the window glass
Frost makes bizarre shapes on that glass
When light touches the frost shapes on the glass
It creates a rainbow of soft but vibrant colors that nothing can surpass
The cotton candy makes good metaphor
Representing surreal starship in untraceable soul that is what sugar is for
This is reflection of greater force which growing in true expanse to heavens will soar
As base for imagination not needing base this will score
And as creating the imagination the making of cotton from sugar is good metaphor
Adequate comparison to transitive necropotic energy flavor added to cotton candy is
And spinning sugar forming the candy is euphemism for space abyss
And just like eating cotton candy reflects childhood bliss
The real bliss cotton candy just reflects this theory of everything is
Cotton candy, so fluffy and soft
Sugar that floats, sticking on throat
Color that bloats, sailing like boat
My sweet hands, grubby like groft
These are days whose weather writes
pages in the memory: air with clarity
one rarely sees, as on high seas in ships --
and in the stretching blue, horizons frame
a scattering of cloudy swirls,
like white cotton candy at a fair.
fluffy spun sugar delight
fingers become pink and sticky
wipes are discovered
P.R.Deremer
"Voluminous sweet
She bought me one and then leave
On her grave I give".
Gimme that cotton candy boy!
With you all day I'll toy,
To get that sweet cottony treat.
Gimme that cotton candy boy!
That stuff that flows out,
When you are filled with the utmost joy,
Gimme that cotton candy boy!
All day I'll play with you,
And have a real feast.
Gimme that cotton candy boy!
That cotton candy is what I enjoy.
4-7-11
Cotton Candy Clouds
Cotton candy clouds
Wisp across the world,
Hovering o’er grandiose minds,
Beyond issues to unfurl.
Whiling away to write a poem
To touch some solitary soul and yet;
Could it be that such a poem
Could fly across the internet
On Cotton Candy Clouds?
Minds can turn in contemplation,
To a great state fair with clowns;
Where that fellow going down the street
Is the funniest guy in town.
Where jolly calliope music drowns
And grownups hold big teddy bears
Drifting, drifting to a happy place
Where everybody cares
Neath Cotton Candy Clouds.
Yummy
Delicious
Clouds
Taste
Like
A
Dream