Poetry Friday: the word is “Carousel”

Jeremiah has chosen the word for our Group Masturbation Poetry Friday, and the word is:

Carousel

I love this word. There were so many images that came to mind when I heard the word, reaching all manner of emotional and physical memory. I’ve chosen to do 2 writing assignments…one five-minute-fast-write, one little ditty.


Five-Minute Free-Write: Carousel

Carousel horses always seemed sinister. Their frozen smiles made me wonder just what they were up to. Who would want to ride a panther, or an ostrich, or a kangaroo, when there are so many fine-bridled horses there? The slow ones had to sit on the benches, in the proper cars, or take the horses that were psych!, not moving up and down but suspended on some sort of sick metal rope, and the spinning, the dizzy lazy crawl, let you know how unfortunate you were. The mirrors on the inside sometimes reflected your own frozen grin, or your hair in the summer breeze and the barnyard hay and the caramel apple oops and kisses stolen under the grandstand, oh, that boy named, what, Mike, who you met at the carousel. Who worked at the carousel. Who had the brilliant black dog named Sheba, and let you ride for free. The boy named, oh, Mike, who took you to his carny friend, what was it, Fred, and got you on the spinning stand-up ride, where Mike reached for your hand and found a sweaty warm sixteen-year-old mess of virginity and want.

There’s a carousel that the kids love to ride because the horses race, actually race, Kentucky-Derby style without the mint juleps, three or four at a time, their heads bobbign and weaving forward/back, and families, whole families, time it so grandpagrandmakids can see who is the winner, who gets the footlong hotdog and the extrabig icecream cone, who’ve never ridden a horse, a real horse, and smelled the hairy sweat and felt the creaking leather beneath them, who’ve never pulled on the reins and felt the power of stopping a passionate animal, who’ve never smiled at horse spit on their hands after carrots and apples and sugar cubes, the tail swishing at flies, and your mouth,



One Little Ditty: Carousel

She straddled the middle
Legs strong and tan
Wrapped tightly at the sides
Hands hard, holding
Head thrown back, a furious grin

He began to move
Up, and down, his back
Arching under her bottom
Between her thighs
The world spun cotton candy

She had no breath
Her mount, the pole,
The rhythm, her gasp,
The spinning lights
The golden ring

He bucked and toppled
Eyes forward watching
The dizzy climb, the descent,
Music and her throbbing
Round and about, down up

Softness, she
Saltiness

Hardness, he
Harness

They fought with gravity,
They fought with Control,
The shouts, the sighs
Exhausted cries
Collapsing in sweaty summer skin

Please feel free to play along today, with whatever creative activity strikes your fancy. I nearly posted a recipe for my Chocolate Carousel Cake, a recipe I created prolly fifteen years ago, that will truly send you spinning, but I forgot it at home. Ah well, maybe next time!

Have a good weekend, on whatever carousel you're riding!