In the park, I go back and I forth, From high in the air to the earth, A seat with a chain, Through sunshine and rain, I'm a ride of joy and mirth.

I’m a tool, a toy, a mechanical device. I’m sometimes used only once or twice. My uses are plenty, many and more. I collect them and show them, I’m told I’m a bore. Remembering their names is quite the chore.

My first four are a male name, one of the four more famous writers from the Christian faith. My last two are a common conjunction in Latin. Or a famous Spielberg movie from the early eighties. All together, I’m where you could buy fish, or stocks, or produce.

A giant's roar from the heavens high, With a flash, the sky cracks its reply. Its voice rolls through the cloudy night, A booming sound, a storm's delight.

The final stage before it’s dark Some older ones still barely glow But touch me and I’ll leave my mark A painful welt with smudge bestowed