Long Spun sugar Poems
Long Spun sugar Poems. Below are the most popular long Spun sugar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spun sugar poems by poem length and keyword.
On a warm summer evening
we are pinned together on the octopus ride,
twirling with excited pleasure.
Even the breeze we swirl through
cannot cool us down,
for the passion of new love
consumes us.
We browse along the Midway,
and he buys for me spun sugar on a stick.
Later we sit buckled in on the seat
of a huge lit-up ferris wheel.
It circles round and round as we swing our legs
while surveying the bustling gleeful folk below.
I shiver with a fever
of anticipation.
At the pinnacle of our last go-around
on this gigantic wheel,
the ride hovers there in the cooling night air.
The stars above us seem to be dancing with delight.
He leans over and his lips meet mine.
I taste the sweetness of cotton candy
and melt into our first kiss,
never wanting again to come back down
to earth.
A taste of sun upon my tongue
a lick of stars inside my maw
a fresh cool drink from rivers pure
mayhap her face, today ?
Before you walk away listen to my plea
I squat to feast and famine everyday
waiting for her Rembrandt smile, sweet perfume ;
A taste of mercy on my spleen, pigeon crumb for a bum
I sit and wait ravenous for peace and bread of life,
oh how I wish those stars could wife;
Anchored in home spun words of beauty and grace
she arrives with two wings offering hope and Faith;
Those two faced coins tossed in my favor
become like spun sugar in the rain, suddenly
gone and out of flavor;
I'm a wolfish man a piping nightingale
hungry for the big feast of heaven
A taste of sun upon my tongue, lick of stars
truth and light,...
I'm an Agnus Dei soft as lamb, a street man
with an angel, by his side.
The Ferris wheel, a spoked and sputtering crown,
Pinned back the velvet dark. We paid our fee
In crumpled bills, bought passage to the town
Where gravity forgot to work its shift for me.
Neon stuttered sermons: "Try Your Luck!"
"See Freaks! Win Love!" The calliope’s thick breath,
A sticky-sweet confection, made us drunk
On promises spun sugar-brittle, sweet as death.
We traded common sense for ticket stubs,
Gulped down the chaos. Bumper cars collided
With jarring joy, released electric grubs
Of laughter down our spines, fear undecided
If it should stay or flee. The Tilt-A-Whirl
Unstitched the solid world, flung stars askew
In streaks of cheap chrome, made the pavement curl
Beneath our feet. I held tight onto you,
A fixed point in the whirling, painted blur.
The rifle range barked sharp, tin cans leapt high.
A sad-eyed bear, impossibly demur,
Watched from his perch where hopeful bullets die.
We shared spun sugar, ghosting on the air,
A sweetness gone before it reached the tongue,
Like fortunes told by Madame Zara’s stare
In smoky glass where futures, cheap, were hung.
The haunted house exhaled its chilly moan.
We walked through shrieks (machine-made, mostly sound),
Past rubber bats and bones of plastic thrown
To frighten children. On the trembling ground,
The roller coaster’s skeleton outlined
A shriek against the stars, a rattled breath
Of riders flung through space, ecstatically blind.
We felt its tremor, smelled its oil and death.
Then, sudden quiet by the carousel,
Its painted horses frozen mid-career,
Up, down, around, beneath a tarnished spell.
The music box wound down, the notes unclear,
Like childhood memories half-drowned in time.
The lights began to shutter, one by one.
The midway sighed. The air grew thick with grime
And spent excitement. All the magic, done.
We walked back through the gates, the real world vast
And strangely silent after all that din.
Holding the cheap prize that was meant to last,
A plastic star still glowing deep within
Its fragile shell – a captured, fading spark,
A testament to how we briefly flew
Above the ordinary, through the dark,
On borrowed light, just me and just... and you.
The carnival's clockwork heart beat slow, then ceased,
Leaving just echoes, ticket stubs, and peace.
Immortal land awakes through dusk and dawn
Beneath ceiling spun sugar and midnight blue.
Winds breath trill of tiny song accrues through
ardent woodlands, rivers, and natures gentle fawns.
6/22/2019
Poetry Contest: Arbitrium Divisa 2'
Sponsored By: Gregory R Barden
Nature will go on no matter what It will evolve
Immortal land awakes through dusk and dawn
Beneath ceiling spun sugar and midnight blue.
Wind's breath trill of tiny song accrues through
ardent woodlands, rivers, and natures gentle fawns.
Tears of life stream with allure and glamor
Dreams grow draping over nature's life in each
Branches newly bereft of leaves, tips reach
Gilded sunrise bonding souls and laughter
Ocean's emotion echoes deep shifting realm
Its grace untouchable in its deepest depth
As it attains its greatest heavens breadth
ancient secrets adhered on coral helm
3/15/2017
Christmas Confections
Visions of candy canes, swirling red and white stripes,
Pirouette through our dreams spinning Christmas delights;
Sugar sticks and sugar plums tweak our imaginations
When bright store windows show off marshmallow creations ~
~ ~ ~
Truffles and toffee nestled near gumdrops red and green
Spun sugar delights fit for a queen;
Peppermint bark, only seen once a year,
Graces gingerbread houses when in villages they appear ~
~ ~ ~
Raspberry candies filled with gooey, sweet centers
Hold hands with ribbon candy - childhood remembers;
Creations of fudge draw our attentions
Chocolate and maple, vanilla nut confections ~
~ ~ ~
Sugar and cinnamon coats nuts of every variety
When coal lumps of licorice invite stocking anxiety;
Pralines, nonpareils, cocoa snowballs, chocolate mints
Sour stars and lollipops leave a holiday footprint ~
11-11-21
Contest: November December
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
BAKED ALASKA GRINNED THROUGH THE SNOWY WINDOW,
CREPE-SUZETTE NICELY SAT ITSELF ON A FANCY PLATE BELOW,
NEW YORK CHEESECAKE WAS FIT AND STRAIGHT FROM QUEENS,
STICKY TOFFEE PUDDING CLUNG ITSELF WHATEVER THAT MEANS.
THE LADY CHEF WITH THE COOKING CAP WRESTLED WITH SPUN SUGAR,
WHICH WRAPPED ITSELF AROUND HER GENEROUS BOSOM THUS FAR;
ORANGE PUDDING WAS SET IN ITS WAYS, GELATINE HAD GOOD DAYS,
STRAWBERRY GATEAU EASED ITS WAY BETWEEN LIPS MOST WAYS.
IT WAS CLOSED ON A SUNDAE BUT OPEN AGAIN ON MONDAY,
YOU COULD SEE THE LADY WITH THE CAP CHASING PANCAKES AWAY,
THE CREAM IS BETTER HERE - NONE OF THAT SLOPPY THIN STUFF,
YOU KNEW AFTER ALL THE 'SLIP AND SLIDE' - YOU'D HAD ENOUGH.
CHOCOLATE RAN DOWN THE SIDE OF FRUIT, STAND AND STARE,
THE COATING WAS ENOUGH - I'VE ALWAYS LIKED A NICE PEAR.
The clock has decided to melt its hands,
pouring liquid seconds into the teacup of a ghost.
My bones are made of spun sugar and whispers,
snap-cracking like dry twigs in a January wind.
I am a house built of stained glass,
holding my breath in a thunderstorm.
See my shadow? It is unraveling at the edges,
becoming lace, becoming smoke.
The mirror shows me a portrait painted on water,
constantly blurring, always just about to break.
I walk on a tightrope stretched over a velvet void,
balancing a drop of mercury on my tongue.
At night, my teeth turn into sand:
And my hair grows roots into the pillow.
I hold onto the edges of the bed,
afraid of dissolving into the wallpaper,
fearful that a butterfly’s sneeze
will scatter me into the dark, forever.
Lollipops for good little boys and girls
melt like tricks onto rotting teeth;
Full of intense flavor and colored swirls;
Nightmares freeze into all that spun sugar,
cotton candy pinwheels on pumpkins;
The wigged Jack O Lantern’s such a looker;
There is such a buzz hanging in the veil,
candied spiders pick up the scent;
To their nostrils it will never go stale;
You can almost capture the bands of air
that permeate raw fear through treats;
Still they walk wanting to collect their fare;
Specters and witches partner with a clown
to lay waste to this hoggish pile;
Sugar drunk they harbor a busted frown.
summer rain
cotton candy clouds
whispy trails like spun sugar ~
sly mists mask the skies
muggy breathless air
leaves hang limp upon their boughs ~
mute the summer song
heat in mirages
shimmering waves sweltering ~
sweet star jasmine blooms
winds like banshees rise
hypnotic dust shadows spin ~
crickets take cover
monsoon clouds rumble
dark humid fury gathers ~
lightning waits to strike
thunder bumpers swell
full of humid heaviness ~
fevered fireballs flair
muggy raindrops fall
scent of rain on sidewalks
drought runs for its life.
8-1-22
By day, I followed her around and watched her every move, for she was bigger than life itself. But when the sun went down, she would change into her uniform and go out into the summer evening. Busing it she'd go to the local factory and work on an assembly line. They made confectionery sweets there, and when the boss discarded them for being broken or imperfect, he allowed the staff to take them home to their families. I'd sit at home doing my homework, waiting for her shift to end. Quite often I would be too tired to stay up until midnight and since I had school the next day, I'd go to bed by nine. In the morning I would find a box of pastries called Palmiers in french palmyè, sitting on the kitchen table waiting to be enjoyed.
When the sun came up we would both sit at the kitchen with a tea in hand and talk before I had to go to school. When she hugged me she smelled of spun sugar with a touch of fixative from yesterday's hairspray. All around her was a peaceful presence, as I enjoyed the warmth of her capable strong hands. That was close to sixty years ago and still today if I stand by a bakery counter taking in the scent of cakes and sweets I can still recall my mother and the way she moonlighted just to make ends meet.
Another feather in my cap of feelgood memories from days of yonder. Tune in tomorrow for another story in my lifetime.
The End.