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Erwinism Oct 2024
From the swing;
the playground,
when the mind is clear
as honeyed water,
there,
ever on the road goes,
slithering into the shadows
of the sleeping horizon,
and
when my feet
were big enough to fill
the muddied shoes,
I sauntered,
then walked,
then trudged,
until my toes were nailed
to the asphalt,
until I came upon
where the road has crumbled,
its debris scattered.

And stood this body,
two sizes too big for this tiny soul,
swathed in layers of expectations,
dragging sagging lumps of age around
past this old carnival.

Forsaken years in the rear view mirror
once painted with life,
proud stallions
here, stand still and gray,
golden poles tarnished,
Their hand crafted eyes
wide-open,
staring through the smudged glass mirror at the lives they missed.  
while the music box wheezes—
a slowing tune,
a dying sound,
as shadows lengthen
on this fairground.

Deep in my pocket,
my fingers exhume
yesterday’s cold corpses
no longer jingling,
just grating tired,
clutched a handful of
these tokens—forgotten currencies,
now just pieces of obol for the eyes,
obsolete,
for games whose booths have long since shattered.

The Ferris wheel creaks,
half-dismantled,
Its empty seats
Swinging
in the twilight’s breeze,
crying tears
of rusted nuts and bolts,
groans high above my head,  
emitting light
a weaker pulse
against the night.  
As if they were embers
holding on to their glow,
if for a moment until the breeze snatches their soul out of their ashy bed.

I stand beneath it,
feel the wind brush past  
And wonder if I’ll ever climb again,  
or if this ride has ended with the spark  
of something breaking,
and like with most
it is something I can’t fix.
Isaac May 2020
City stretching wide,
Touching on every side.
Buildings so high,
They look beyond the sky.
Space a playground of travel,
So vast it can only baffle.
Time a never ending maze;
We can subdue every phase.
Written 31 May 2020
Em Glass Mar 2020
Other kids think I love
you too much, and adults
tell us children, behave
because we aren't playing right,
arm in arm climbing up slides
or otherwise hiding with hands
where our feet should be.

When I was scared of other kids
and monkey bars
I would have been relieved
to see police tape
surround Fireman's Park.
Now again I look such
surfaces in the eye
and think: if you killed me
I would die
shelter in place day 11
Nigdaw Jan 2020
when you're tired of the swings
and the thrill of the roundabouts
how's  another playground
gonna recharge your adrenaline

you survived all the bruises
and the scars have healed faded
so many tumbles trying
to push an unreachable envelope
perhaps it's time to appreciate the stars
rather than trying to reach them
to conquer the universe
Mark Toney Oct 2019
flipping baseball cards
in the flippin' school yard
pictures up, stats down
Drysdale, Koufax, Mantle, Spahn
or vice versa all around

retirement income source lost on the playground...
6/8/2019 - Poetry form: Light Verse - Back in elementary school we used to flip baseball cards on the school grounds.  Today, a Gem mint PSA 10 1952 Topps Mickey Mantle baseball card, may well be worth $10 million. Who knew? - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Khoisan Jun 2019
Boredom digs itself a hole,
its friends?
manages its soul.
A snare of despair
into the straits
of Hades,
Beware!!!
Idle hands (friends?) demons substance abuse suicidal thoughts snares death hades
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