At The Fun Fair
A night to remember at the fair
At The Fun Fair
The funfair lights are shining bright,
A whirl of colors in the night.
The smell of candy, sweet and warm,
The laughter rides the evening storm.
The carousel spins round and round,
With cheerful music, joyful sound.
Dodgems crash and children cheer,
The magic grows as fun draws near.
A prize is won, a teddy bear,
For tossing hoops into the air.
The funfair’s glow, a fleeting dream,
A happy place, or so it seems.
The funfair hums, a lively beat,
With every laugh and dancing feet.
The Ferris wheel climbs to the sky,
A thousand stars that catch your eye.
The rollercoaster twists and turns,
The thrill of speed, the spirit burns.
The games of luck, the ring and dart,
Each one a chance to win a heart.
Popcorn pops and lights all glow,
The ticket booths in a steady row.
The calliope sings a happy tune,
Under the glow of the silver moon.
Children’s faces full of glee,
Hands in pockets, eyes that see—
A magic place, a sparkling fair,
Adventure dances in the air.
The funfair lights are shining bright,
A whirl of colors in the night.
The smell of candy, sweet and warm,
The laughter rides the evening storm.
The carousel spins round and round,
With cheerful music, joyful sound.
Dodgems crash and children cheer,
The magic grows as fun draws near.
The Ferris wheel climbs to the sky,
A thousand stars that catch your eye.
The rollercoaster twists and turns,
The thrill of speed, the spirit burns.
The games of luck, the ring and dart,
Each one a chance to win a heart.
Popcorn pops and lights all glow,
The ticket booths in a steady row.
The calliope sings a happy tune,
Under the glow of the silver moon.
Children’s faces full of glee,
Hands in pockets, eyes that see—
A magic place, a sparkling fair,
Adventure dances in the air.
The funfair hums, a lively beat,
With every laugh and dancing feet.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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More stories from Marie381Uk and writers in Poets and other communities.
My New Book is Finally Here
My poetry collection Beautiful and Brutal Things is done. It's actually done and finally published over 270 pages. Over a year of my life went into this book. More than a year, really. Long days at my computer, sometimes seven days a week because I couldn't stop even when I probably should have. Then two months of editing that felt harder than the writing itself. But it's finished, and I'm still standing, and the book is real.
By Tim Carmichael3 days ago in BookClub
Comments (1)
A beautiful sensory poem that took me to the fair!