Monday, April 20, 2009

The Carousel

Around and rounds
to anyone's guess...
who gets the ring?

The mares are prancing
in gilded drawings
as a call is made
from an Oliphant's nest.

Pride was exposed
in a mockery stew,
a dream held dear...
circles anger and glue.

Ride on, free stallion
in fantasy spin,
words are stakes
in Wurlitzer rhyme.

Line up and grab
flowered ring of token.
I'm every woman...
the Goddess has spoken.

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