TRAPPED IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE RIDE

   

    The speeding carts
        in darkness lunge and squeal,
            (Eyes glow then fade)
        down through a dragon's jaw,
            past bats and skulls.
    Kids shriek with anxious awe,
        but, though we duck,
            few think the phantoms real.
    What scares me
        more than plywood ghoul or witch
            (Who just like us
                are force around then back)
    is what's beneath us
        on this endless track,
    how hidden wheels
        provoke the preset switch.
    Just so the scent of thyme
        --up swells regret.
    A train at night
        --I'm homesick once again.
    A book
        --lost love. Enough!
    Not what, it's when and why
        that stumps me,
        haunts me,
        makes me fret.
    The shuttle not the shame
        is what I dread,
    This mobius madness
        jolting in my head.

 

 

 

Reviews

[pasdepoisson]

The cogwheels behind the phenomena of life are apparent to the poet. I really admire the use of a haunted house ride as a metaphor for the hollowness of even "profound" experiences such as reminiscence during a train ride-- even "lost love" seems a pop-up ghost triggered by nostaligia.
I really like the rythm and rhyme of the last four lines, along with the aliterative phrases. Very nicely resolves the peice.

[TLK]

This mobius madness .