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*playland In Winter

Rating: 3.1

Steel gates creak
As cold winds speak
And sweep through the turnstiles
Past the sign, “For Sale”
Next to the carousel
Where the worn horses lie in piles
But paints crust
And gears rust,
Bringing the price down.
The blue Northern swipes

Through the calliope pipes,
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Sonya Florentino 27 August 2009

i don't know, I see this more as a yearning for childhood that's somehow still missed....and see more of a desparation to hold on to it.... quite eery in fact in a beautiful way like a resurrecting something that's gone....

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Susan Jarvis 22 August 2009

This poem's fast pace, rhyme and rhythm has all the attributes of a fun-filled ride on a merry-go-round. Your images paint a vivid picture of the worn out horses at the beginning of the poem. This gives way to the carefree neighing and hooraying from the seemingly child's eye view of the second. I've been taken on a windswept ride down memory lane - and I loved every second! S :)

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