#carousel
We live in a broken carousel,
in the middle of a
long time empty festival.
The old wooden horses
go up and down
on and on,
and everything spins
once more,
and once again,
while the horses slowly
lose their paint.
Every so long,
a carpenter comes
and replaces a horse
with a new and shiny
little pony,
who learns to go
up and down,
revolving around,
from the old and worn
other horses.
And so the carousel
can go on spinning,
young little ponies turn into
old worn horses
that wait to be replaced.
But never, in this
ancient cycle,
not a single time
has the central column
that everything revolves around
been replaced, or even
examined by anybody.
And if someone did look at it,
they would see that
no single horse has ever
been more worn than
this column, center of all.
No, no one has,
and so the carousel
goes on spinning
without clients
or even tickets.
Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 5:43 AM UTC
My mind is a carousel,
spinning round and round, never staying still,
my thoughts and emotions, a dizzying whirl
each ride a struggle, a test of will.
The music plays, a constant hum,
A reminder of the turmoil to come,
the lights blur together, a colorful haze,
as I try to find my way through this daze.
The horses gallop, a frantic pace,
each one a state of worry, of fear, of a troubled space.
The swings rise high, a soaring flight,
but crash back down, into the dark at night.
I search for a way to slow the ride,
to step off the carousel, stand aside,
to find some peace, some calm, some rest,
but the music plays on and I'm stuck in this test.
Yet still I hold on, through the twists and turns,
and pray for a moment, when the ride learns,
to slow its pace, and let me breathe,
and find my footing on solid ground beneath.
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 9:28 PM UTC
My continued experience with the NHS is the sense that, no one is listening or fixing.
If at all possible go private, tell them what you want investigating and fixing.
A national health hospital is not going to cure you for, “A patient cured is a customer lost!; Instead, of fixing you, “Big farmer” will crudely manage your symptoms, with drugs, at a cost and send you home in prolonged agony.
It’s a lucrative carousel !
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 10:28 AM UTC
the elegances of minutiae, the grandeur of detail
********
inspired by m vogel
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/5097839/airborne-part-i/
&&&&&&&
perhaps, unlikely, unwittingly
your fingertips bring you to a familiarity,
stumbling into a new door, taken by the intricate intrigue of any
of:
name, style, handwriting, overlapping language
and sometimes pure chance, impure luck,
leads one to a poem,
that soddens your soul,
the elegances of minutiae, the grandeur of detail,
the rendering of pain so swelling in a heart,
where loss is everything and then there is
absence,
and though a life can be voided,
a poem is forever,
for it lives in a land of luck of the draw
and you read this poem above,
and you are airborne into a deeper sea depth
that makes the chest arrest, the legs limp,
the intensity of the details
insist one clutches his neck
to ascertain that the choking will not be permanent
this falling into a poem
bedevils me,
and tells me the road ahead
so open, so wide, scarcely touched by
footsteps,
and return you do
for a second tasting, a third emulsion,
and though you leave another's poem,
the heaviness of chest informs yourself,
this is now part of my baggage
that cannot be be ever lost,
but will go round and round
the luggage carousel
till it is your turn
to take it home
Sept. 23, 2025
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 10:31 AM UTC
The merry-go-round
dances on its wheels, swinging --
around its axis.
Dec 2, 2024
Dec 2, 2024 at 4:00 AM UTC
The more I try
The more I fail
A cattywampus scale
Creating this personalized
Dollar general designer hell
A fiery well
I'm always drawn back to
In a spell
And I keep mindlessly pushing
Circling like a carousel
Why pray tell?
I couldn't tell
But I'll tell you what,
If you know someone buying souls
I'd be willing to sell
If they pay well
©2024
Nov 17, 2024
Nov 17, 2024 at 3:39 PM UTC
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.
Oct 18, 2024
Oct 18, 2024 at 10:47 PM UTC
I've cut open my eyes
And to my surprise,
I found an old carousel projector
With millions of upsidedown pictures inside.
The machine starts to whir,
And my life flashes by,
Every memory frame by frame,
On these convenient little slides
Every laugh, and every smile
Every absence of joy,
Those slides seem to last longer on this carousel of poise.
Sep 17, 2021
Sep 17, 2021 at 7:47 PM UTC
Our small story; is just a small line or chapter in everyones story.
We are each busy; listening, narrating, taking notes, leafing through the pages; losing, following the plot, whilst searching for the happy ending.
It turns out this immortal story ends where it begins, with most of us spinning round and round, simply chasing our tails aboard the carousel of love.
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 10:32 AM UTC
Our bodies fit perfectly
hearts racing rapidly
lips harmonising ceaselessly
Nebula gawks
making asteroids stop
No evidences,
just stars,
No one but You and I
Gleaming stones dull
In comparison,
set aside to our
brewing passion
You light my day
like carousels do
to a carnival
Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 3:16 AM UTC
Winged souls harmonize
in voices divine,
as star chandlers
bring light to moment.
As angels sing to celebrate
all who wander on Earth.
Citadel is built by heartbeats mortar,
and love bricks guided by constellations
form grand monuments.
Light integrates with dark
for a parade of love to anchor
while new pyridines become reality.
And as life's carousel continues to turn
expanding self, we gracefully walk
with wind, rain, and sun at our backs.
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 10:01 AM UTC
White horses go up and down
enchanting music plays in background
It keeps spinning, round and round
a joyful ride with a merry-go-round.
People's life goes like a carousel
spinning with worries that never end
still we must enjoy every cheerful ride
and live a life that brings happiness inside.
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 11:50 AM UTC
I read about her somewhere.
...
About a lady in a white bralette.
Always bloomed alongside the flowers, with a scent, that made you look at her like she’s one of them. She came into a life with the waves. Crashed into you like the ocean onto the shore. Her touch was feverish and her steps were light.
Like the falling leaves she tiptoed around you, danced with the flames and got you lost in her madness. The kind of madness, that makes you walk through the forest in the middle of the night. The kind of madness, that erases all gravity and lifts you high up in the sky. The kind of madness, that makes you drop sanity out of the palm of your hands.
But her unexpected visit was just it. A visit. As soon as the wind blew she disappeared. And she was gone. Gone with the wind. The gravity reappeared and your feet we’re back on the ground. The sudden twist of events was often too much for most to handle. I live, but many have fallen deeper in the madness that existed only with her existence.
Their souls will forever be heated, but their eyes will never see again.
If I loved her?
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 9:21 AM UTC
We started with love.
Well, I did.
I started with love when I laid eyes on her behind, Le derrière of life.
I was pulled into a wormhole, only her slap could wake me up from.
We slipped into hate.
Well, she did.
Till with my charm I pulled her right back
For a Yoruba demon never gives up.
A carousel going back and forth, we ride from love to hate to love again.
I hate to see her go but I love to watch her leave,every single time.
Today, today is no exception.
She will be back.
©Belema.S.Ekine
(belemascribbles)
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 6:18 AM UTC
My life is like a carousel.
This one I can't get off.
It's beautiful on the outside,
but it never ever stops.
The world is a blur now,
from spinning for years and years.
It's easy for people to say I'm fine,
when they haven't felt my tears.
Your life might be a roller coaster,
going up and down.
That's way more fun than being stuck
Spinning round and round
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
Being on earth is a carousel ride
that goes up-and-down,
North, South, East, and West.
Payment for such ride is gratitude.
The carousel conductor starts ride
with my breath that aligns in moment.
I am galloping on a rainbow horse,
up a grand mountainside.
Blossoming trees on either side.
Wind blowing hair with gentle energies.
An occasional shower
with darken clouds pass quickly.
Freedom is mine,
as love infused music plays.
It's the music of my heart.
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC
Magic happens when you don't give up
and ride the waves of light.
When you open your heart to see
as if eyes line the *****
Magic happens when you
touch the moment in breath
and bestride the carousel of dreams.
Its what happens when one
recalls who they a
divine being with reservoir of gifts.
Hello magic I declare my birthright.
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 8:45 PM UTC
I don't even know what to say anymore
I've used the word word and words
too many times and I'm in
something of a rut
dominated by a state of nigh infinite flux
the problem is I'm aiming an empty gun
at yellow iron ducks, red horned devils
thinking the same few thoughts again, again,
again, stuck casting such dark spells
spinning the wheel, ever on the carousel
all i do is cast dark spells
all i do is tell true stories
as if they were tall tales
when i could scribe my life
as if it were fiction
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 12:14 AM UTC
If perhaps we meet
upon road of my dreamscape reality,
I will be the one with feather in hat,
and candle in heart.
The one who sings with birds,
and radiates sun.
The one who looks into your eyes
to smile at the beauty I see there.
The one who whispers a poetic love song,
as wind encircles day.
If perhaps we meet
on the rainbow highway of life,
I shall reach out hand
and smile widely,
Smile, giggle, laugh whole heartily,
as we move on the carousel of life,
inside love, peace,
and harmony.
StarBG © 2017
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 8:23 AM UTC
all I ever seem to do
is fall deep for someone like you
round and round the carousel
is it ever to stop, only time will tell
-k.g.
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 1:49 PM UTC