Long Carny Poems
Long Carny Poems. Below are the most popular long Carny by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Carny poems by poem length and keyword.
Here we are at the county fair,
log-rolling show right over there,
and in the back, a trained brown bear,
there’s racing children everywhere.
Endless carts where the food is fried,
bizarre creations you can try,
funnel cakes always catch my eye,
and ribbon chips are so sublime.
Strange rides that rattle, clank, and shake,
kids seeing how much they can take,
good lord, I hope they have good brakes,
the sights makes adult stomachs quake.
Tents with shinny trinkets galore,
the stuff you rarely see in stores,
cheap weapons, tie-dyed beads and more,
glow-sticks and fake tattoos deplored.
A plethora of carny games,
the ring-toss and BB guns reign,
are they rigged? It wracks the brain,
and still we play them, all the same.
In the back is the livestock show,
how massive can a Holstein grow?
Draft horses pulling, on the go,
from countless farms I didn’t know.
On the stage is a country band,
cheered on by some fair-weather fans,
back in the nineties they were grand,
now they play fairs across the land.
At the grandstand: the tractor pull,
just in case things were getting dull,
how this started? Some people mull,
others just cheer as tractors bull.
Some might look on, haughtily glare,
say they’d never be caught dead there,
for their nonsense I have no care
here at this epic country fair.
She said his grin was as charming
as a Shoebill Stock.
Warning others of his lack of
beauty and handsomeness.
His presence caused others
to feel spooked and haunted
creating a situation hard to ignore
and forget.
Nearing 3;45 the clouds
overtook the sunlight
a chilling darkness
took it's place. Glooming the
edges of daytime
a start upon her face. He stood there
watching and waiting
with no expression on his face.
I gazes toward her to gain my
composure, his ugly face looking
at me. He dropped his head
might I may see him,
there the things of nightmarish
stories ,stood before me.
I refused to gasp or
insult him he acted cool and cleverly.
leaving we gave him distance
before we talked about abou him
and his gasping entity.
Yet which in his presence
bad omens flush the veins
to the soul, and chill you to
the bone.Giving way to how
it is easiest to understand
why the have carny him into
legend. Tweed suit or frock coat
a costume that creates his
character. Elbarote groans and moans
they say they hear.
A story were he stood
in a doorway durning a storm.
And lightening striking when
the door creaked open. She said his face
looked as charming as a Shoebilled Stork
and spooky as cold chilled cloudy day,
his haunting persona is meant
to unravel: to pertrfy your
unluckness away.
Written by
Lento-Off Putting Music
Have I been too long at the fair?
by Michael R. Burch
Have I been too long at the fair?
The summer has faded,
the leaves have turned brown;
the Ferris wheel teeters . . .
not up, yet not down.
Have I been too long at the fair?
This is one of my earliest poems, written around age 15 when my family was living with my grandfather in his house on Chilton Street, within walking distance of the Nashville fairgrounds. I remember walking to the fairgrounds, stopping at a Dairy Queen along the way, and swimming at a public pool. I believe the Ferris wheel only operated during the state fair, so my “educated guess” is that this poem was written during the 1973 state fair, or shortly thereafter. I remember watching people hanging suspended in mid-air, waiting for carnies to deposit them safely on terra firma again, neither all the way up nor all the way down. Keywords/Tags: Fair, State Fair, Amusement, Amusements, Carny, Carnies, Ferris Wheel, Roller Coaster, Leaves, Dangling, Suspended, Fall, Falling, Limbo, Big Top, Big Show, Circus, Carnival, Sideshow, Gypsy, Gypsies, Summer, Autumn, Child, Childhood
i'd become immortal again binding
a hardened stone catering to the sensual
needs to gather soiled stained hanker chief
a sudden removal of all earthly gesture's
i'd crawled beneath self tracing his footsteps
he guided me somewhere between heaven and earth
i suppose as night crawled under day creating
a soft mauve glow throughout the sky all sense's
were quite balanced and filled with a tidiness
i'd rather not embrace the calmness about me
moved searching for granite hills and solid
foundations as the warm mist traveled evenly
through ancient greenery of pastel pasture's
while my mind craved a certain mastery i found
little peace depicting a tranquil finding i'd began
to shatter openly into a million pieces a sheer
rapture abode my firm structure as my mind
swayed tossing memories back and forward
a charming force chasing the eye of the needle
i'd encased virtue beyond my wild eye's slowly
madness had return shivering about my space
why i'd carefully stored it somewhere between
the grand piano of broken keys and lost notes
unspoken memorandums followed by speech
hence moving tolerance behind me abandoning
life as i gazed earnestly above the carny dreams
of a folklore's tale capturing my soul in a borrowed
dance a game of chance as i began watering the earth
with a mountain of tear drops drowning myself into
solace and relief quiet moments opened the windows
to my mind seeking refuge in my thoughts my desires
an infamous notion that i once walked among
the living that i once soared through the galaxy
clinging to light clinging to hope's findings absorbing
life's bruise's feeling human emotions for one small
moment i'd felt a twinge where life once dwelled
somewhere within me
You ask of me silence as I Rome
Saint peters square gathering hymns
beneath Di Vatican where Satan sits
in solitude a prisoner of haste awaiting
a time to live a time to give malice a
wretched sea urchins filled with rapture
borrowed by solace envy kackling carny
unfolding aimlessly becoming nothing in the
eyes of God sending chills of fear weathered
under the soil sandals of the child of God wrath
behold the tyranny engraved over the watchers
minds eye calling to pontius pilates consciousness
professing goodness portraying the death of Christ
from a morbid dream shared by his wife come to me
now seek truth return void from your sinful actions
hatred devoured love conquered an yet I am still here
klaus says humanity has lost its trust' so i guess to regain
It is his new must??
trump has won and now presides.' As many people are
Opening their eyes.?]
Many Americans phoned and texted when a new bill was
Debated' and we saw things got really affected.'
I don't know how ( that went down ?)
With all those evil? davos clowns?
soros gates claus and carny, atten-borough thun-burg they'd send you barmy!
In listening to such fifteen minutes? it is plenty.' Of time
To escape the ' forever citys' and before they're built.!
Like a hive.? Do we have a mind.? Hmm think..Think think.?
Also action will do fine.' What will be the next distractions.? Maybe
Its simply best to do as above.? Get involved to devolve.!
Give the agenda a shove.? Which is like a train on its track
Of lies.?? If you remove some sections off a cliff it
Fly's
we Waited-
the summer for the carnival to arrive-
all the rides
and all the side shows
the screams far and wide
and the carnival treats
running to get on the roller coaster
was that me there
yelling
that's when my world was wonderful
the ferris wheel
oh gosh we are high
far and wide
my friend leans over and I close my eyes
from ride to ride we rush
the music is blaring
and we
tilt
and whirl
the smell
of candy-apples in the air
balloon man whistling for us
and the music is
blaring
come take a chance
carny men yell-
I went-
to the carnival not long ago-
it seemed unchanged
same rides and same
sounds far and wide
nothing had changed at the carnival
but I had I had grown up
so no screaming
no yelling any more
the excitement was gone
or
was it
from ride to ride I wandered
and kids ran past me
skipping
shouting
and the balloon man still whistled
and the carny man still called out
but I was quiet
a watcher
now
and lovers passed by arm in arm
holding huge
teddy bears
____________________
October 19, 2017
Poetry/Free Verse/The Carnival
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9509-15-0
All Rights Reserved.
Submitted to the contest,
Any poem won in a contest in November,
sponsor, Laura Loo
First Place, Judged December 4, 2017
___________________
Written for the contest, The Sound of the Past
Sponsor, Eve Roper
First Place, Judged November 4, 2017
murder sang in me where the sultriness
of hot cotton fields consumed by
old carny folk gestures given any doubt
to a freedom that ole Abe spoke of diligently
why I never dreamt a better dream
where I'd giggled life's fortitude beneath a darkened
sky with brillant hues of wandering mirth beyond
a quaint timing of lemonade and broken slacks
why I'd began to simply utter faint whispers
of where I'd been through the gallows and gentle
memoirs of mi Irish pappy I'd exploded in a sensational
absolute glow covered in shamrocks I solemnly wondered
what gift shall I leave to mi irish pappy perhaps
the cream colered scarf or a pair of paisley socks
as the hanging moss spread sparingly over land
where he'd become to grow as old as mud pies
underneath the empty porch
you'd beckoned my thoughts again
through sudden whispers
i've declined to respond morbidly
catering to the quaint findings
of life after death a quiet calm
arose over shattered fixings
wildly i'd mastered the gory details
hindering my every whim
childishly i catered to his robe
nestled beneath wrath carny
and the mild mannered masterpieces
torn between terror and sheer neediness
while captured beyond graveness
the sullen memory of where time resided
my inner self crawled eagerly i suppose
as my body bargained with my soul
a meaningful gesture giving my heart
infamous nudges arousing tattered bliss
mere ashes to be smeared throughout
the galaxy of fairness and the norm
Here he smiles and there's such joy again!
Blue balloons and red; faces at the windowpane.
Now a green one, then a brown;
With his orange hair, why, he's a clown!
Sunrise yellows, pinks and purple;
Vivid colors attract little people
Each summer day without rain;
Every summer in the lane.
Footsteps follow him through marigold
As they did in the days of old.
"The Balloon Man is come! The Balloon Man!" all cry,
When sun greets a morning sky.
And return with many merry balloons,
And memories of golden afternoons;
As the clock ticks off happy hours
So gay, like little flowers.
The Balloon Man of sunrise days,
Is happiest when a child plays.
Such a red nose, why, he's a clown!
Much laughter 'til the lights go down.