under an endless
carousal of stars -
bright leaves ride the wind
With keen eyes, I follow July’s evening
Spread its blended palette of amber tints,
Of varnish 'midst interlude of showers
That I enter into nature's mystique;
Before me— an avian carousal
A radiant skyscape where nightingales
And jays reel from warmth of moonlight, aflame
Circling within rare space of equinox:
Birds' flights slowly disengaging for now
From interludes of pewter pewter dew.
First place
Ask me to run a marathon
I would think you where off your head.
If you say something that worrys me
I could run two back to back in my head.
You look for peace in a tablet.
And sanity from a therapists chat.
In a world gone mad
the past is lamented.
The future holds fear
the present is a nightmare.
When the world as gone insane.
Your mind is like a carousal
running issues round and round.
Your the clown at the carvival
the joker in the pack.
Wipe that fake smile of your face
the worry from your mind.
Deal yourself a royal flush
and tell the world to kiss my ass.
Winsome harmonies
Hold my attention captive
Ramblin' carousal
Of spirited melodies
To sounds of tranquility
Carousel inn on highest peak,
Round and round they quickly spin,
Beacon invites as we speak,
Carousel inn.
Tent for a carousal din,
Memories lost they seek,
Floating feets under Natures basin,
Festive aura sound and reek.
Flying with the spinning wind,
Emotions fast and thick,
Carousel inn.
by Danesh Morgan
on 3th August 2013
I am Silent
Like a wolf stalking his prey
The white snow falls vibrant,
as the trees sleep at midnight
I intensely watch the prey saunter away
my smile is warm
my laugh is reserved
I am energetic.
The chase is like a carousal.
My comfort comes from the round, full moon.
I prance extravagantly as if i had wings.
42.
Play the amusement park tune
Start the carousal going round
The child always wants the ride
Recall the eerie childhood sound
My ugly unwashed hair
Crooked brown stained teeth
The shame of poverty’s snare
The dysfunctional disease
Bring out the youth’s trauma
Make it a Technicolor show
Where the past belongs in gray scale
To make drama, memories must grow.
Mistakes that will not fade
Sticking to my sides like glue
The wound that mother made
Am I unclean beyond repair?