Im on a carousel
No bright lights, just darkness
Yet still it whirls
With muffled tone still sounding
I know I'll hear it in my dreams.
I had to ride
There was no choice
Face my demons and ride the horses
Round we go
Round we go
In the night.
midnight carousel~
horses drift through moonlit haze,
soft as whispered spells.
each turn stirs the hidden world,
calling old dreams back to life.
The ticket man quickly collects the tickets.
He has colorless eyes.
The tiny riders select their favorite plastic horse.
Laughter splashes around the small circle.
The horses are screaming the melody.
Win- place -show -the order is always the same.
The horses are still screaming as the riders dismount.
My lone rider wants another chance.
The ticket man collects the tickets again.
“Ride, ride the carousel; reach for the brass ring—life is a circular thing." (Julie Andrews)
The calliope sings through twilight’s hush,
a drunken waltz of pipes gone slightly lush.
The carousel spins ghosts in gilded light~
each rider swears they’re flying, in their rush.
Clowns have shed their greasepaint grins by dawn,
their hollow eyes still laughing, though withdrawn.
The carnival packs up its aching bones,
but the carousel? It's never quite gone.
A ribbon lost, a child’s shoe in the hay,
the scent of sugar clinging to the fray.
Ticket vendors count their silver lies,
while horses dream of galloping away.
Tents collapse like sighs into the dust,
yet something lingers—rusted chains, a trust
that when the moon hangs fat and low once more,
the music will return. And so it must.
If you enjoyed this poem, you may want to read its companion memoir vignette posted on Poetry Soup: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/carousel_of_memories_13583
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
childhood dreams whirl~
dizzying, gleeful blur.
popcorn smell wafts through the air.
cotton candy clouds drift by~
laughter reverberates across time.
shadows lengthen, dusk
d
e
s
c
e
n
d
s
steeds slow, music fades.
time dissolves~
carousel of yesterday.
Carousel and life are somewhat alike,
Aphotic at times, then awash with light.
Resplendent memories they both create,
Obsidian energies they set in play.
Unbounded they make you feel,
Solace in little truths revealed.
Essence of life, so one may tell,
Liminal realm — where life and carousel meld.
I followed the sun to the sea to find
an electric horse that had no mind,
gliding up and down, and round and round,
pulled by a haunted jingly sound.
A hollow voice begged me to ride her,
from the empty air that stayed inside her.
The Carrousel of sex
My sister held a party. She lived across the road from us
My wife wouldn’t go; she was not on speaking terms with
my sister, as they often did.
There were many women there, and one was especially and
charming laughed at my feeble jokes, and when it got late
I agreed to follow her home as it was dark and autumnal
We had sex on a park bench, but it struck me as sordid and
I pulled away, said sorry, and walked home.
I was riven by guilt and also anger. This was a trap I, a man,
had walked headlong into. I cursed my stupidity.
Back home, my wife was fast asleep. She had been at the gin
We had breakfast at ten, it was a Sunday, and I was sad
I was still tired and waited for her to berate me, but she didn`t.
In the affairs of the heart, it is better to tell an untruth
because women will only believe what they have decided
to be the verity
Years later, after we divorced- for another reason- she said
She told me she had been sleeping with the man who collected rubbish
every week, and I thought of the woman in the park and my
sister who had a reason for disliking my wife
Spinning, a horse of gold,
I am four, a princess bold,
My first time on this magical ride,
With a giant, toothless, happy stride.
The music hums, a carousel tune,
I rise and fall beneath the afternoon moon.
The painted pony gallops fast,
A happy feeling that's made to last.
The world outside is a colorful blur,
My little heart gives a happy purr.
Around and around, the wind in my hair,
I'm flying high, without a care.
The ride slows down, the song is done,
A perfect end to a day of fun.
I step off the horse, a little sad to leave,
But I'll be back, I truly believe.
carousel whirls round and round
horses climbing up and down
few riders smiling
most, teardrops crying
calliope’s adversity
three minutes an eternity
Stones left unturned for those that seek truth among the urns.
I care not to seek out answers requiring a life’s sacrifice of family and name.
Secrets revealed. Kingdoms rise, then disappear. Buried beneath silicon dunes of unrefined glass. Reflected back a whisper of their past.
The abyss now lay claim to their lands.
Endless cyclical tides, wash ashore smashed relics of a time long forgotten.
Blending perfectly with tumbling mollusks and stone.
But, all too soon. Quicker than we think. Our bodies reduced to boney fragments. Charging towards some beach.
Stones left unturned, are left better unlearned. History unfolds lessons, that are left better; alone
the clock strikes dusk
the sun fades away
a thousand golden lights blinks
to set the scene on fire
crowds carouse
for the merry-go-round
that bright crown of the carnival night
under that picturesque parasol
children clamber up the golden saddles
atop alabaster rides
galloping through infinity
then drums snare with cymbals
while clarinets and woodwinds shriek
in jubilant symphony
laughter jingle
as the circle twirls
and the colourful world dissolve
to a colourless blur
Beneath the sky’s deep purple hue,
Music calls, the laughter too;
Wheels turn slow, the lights all spin,
And pull us gently further in.
The air smells sweet with candy threads,
With buttered corn and warm baked breads;
A carousel of painted dreams,
It ripples on the moonlit streams.
I watch your eyes in neon glow,
They shine in ways you may not know;
The call of bells, the beating drums,
The thrill before the next ride comes.
We win no prize, yet still we keep
The moment safe, our hearts to steep;
For nights like these are never sold,
They live in us when we grow old.
As the tents fold up tight,
And lanterns fade into night,
We walk back slow, still side by side,
With all the joy we could not hide.
on and on and on
we climbed on painted horses
we hitched a ride on a conga line
rode on the luggage collection airport rides
watched the slide-show cycles on endless repeats
for life's a carousel of roundabouts
on those merry-go-rounds,
on and on, on and on,
with no beginning,
end or meaning,
spinning not
to heaven,
nor hell,
dream
on
The carousel moans to the empty dusk,
rusted music haunts brittle air,
the laughter has decayed.
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