I swung a magazine in a speeding blaze,
and killed five houseflies in three days.
My statistics are good, and for my money,
I'm better than Shohei Ohtunny.
the sun the wind the surge
childish passions emerge
i hear summer’s call
nothing holds me back
as i swing high and tall
years long spent
yet i close my eyes
and youth is omnipresent
a spell of timelessness
manifests its sweet caress
AP: 3rd place 2025
he sits on a swing and mourn 'what could've been'
a little child inside a devil like him longs for a home
is it that he wish to run or return to same old place
he will forever be lost in the woods, searching for the end
his body turning cold and sweat running down the skin
heart on its high and face appears to be pale
running from everything that he inherited
he just want to die and live in eternal peace
a ghost of a child at the playground
swinging on a swing
laughing and having fun
a ghost of a child at the playground
swinging on a swing
he was never found at local cemetery
priests went out in search
exorcists did their performance
but the child was swinging on a swing
A branch once held our daughter’s swing
By blue supporting ropes,
The yellow molded plastic
Holding her and all our hopes.
We pushed her as she laughed out loud
And always wanted more,
So we complied, each happy swing
Just like the one before.
In time, she grew too big for it;
It hung there, never used.
The branch, from wind and rain and
All that weight was worn and bruised.
And then one day it simply snapped,
The swing found in the dirt,
Long past the time when any toddler
Might have gotten hurt.
The tree still stands, our daughter’s grown
And very few recall
The yellow swing that held that child,
Giggling in its thrall.
Bathe in something blue,
sail through the sky or the sea.
Positive mood swing.
we
met for
no reason
in lonely park
where we happened to
be, both there at the same,
time for no real reason,
just an accident really,
that happenstance yen-ed to sublime.
we both heard the empty swing grind a creak
as wind swung it to and fro, to and fro,
we spoke gently about the pathos
of the scene, swing parked empty,
echoing the joyous laughs
of kids at play with creaks
of cold rusty chains,
enlivened by
the puffs of
wily
wind
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
-----------------
/ { }
/ { } swing a s into sky
{_____} r c
{_____} bare feet chase late passing clouds~
dainty dreams take flight
One of my favorite places to be
is my bench swing with a canopy
I swing and float in the air
Problems don't exist, they are no-where
My swing, faces the backyard and beyond
Sometimes rain puddles in the field, a pond
A train of clouds often travel the open sky
I lift my feet, while I watch them go by
The birds sing all around me
Motion leaves me calm effortlessly
I could easily stay as time ticks by,
consumed by peace, oh my!
Heidi Sands
5/18/25
(C)opyright
The Faded Garden Swing
If the flaked paint on the old swing
could speak, it would tell stories of
days long ago,
Of children's laughter and their bare,
muddy feet,
Of fireflies caught and imprisoned in
empty jam jars,
Like the fireflies, my memory flickers,
trying to recall who lived across the
street.
The faded swing’s rusty chains creaked
loudly under my weight, an old familiar
song,
And the scent in the air from the aged
honeysuckle, still going strong,
An old familiar perfume of yesteryear,
At this moment, suspended between
the then and now, time stands still.
Once the echoes of children’s giggles,
now a silent yard,
Images of scraped knees, loud cries
and a lemonade stall,
In the distance, the sound of an old
church bell rings,
Here, on this faded garden swing,
I sit in the past with the weight of
what was and of what can never be
again.
Now, shadows linger in silence,
Where children once soared with
dreams,
Oh, faded swing, a keeper of stories
of joy and pain,
You hold the essence where memories
remain,
At last, I am home, in the place where
time stands still.
I like to swing higher than high
Above the trees into the sky
Someday I hope my feet will zoom
Beyond the mist and touch the moon
Hey! Batter! Hey, hey batter!
Hey! Batter, swing!
There is the wind up. Here comes the pitch.
Fastball, slider, curve, but which is which?
Bases are loaded, it’s up to you…
Swing for the fences! Do what you do!
No one to help you. The ump is blind.
There’s so much pressure. Two runs behind.
You stand alone on the precipice.
Give it your best shot! A swing… a miss…
Hey! Batter! Hey, hey batter!
Hey! Batter, swing!
So many hecklers… the catcher laughs.
It’s just his job to try to distract.
You are all warmed up, ready to go…
Swing for the fences! Do what you know!
The fans are yelling, calling you names.
It’s life or death now, not just a game.
Millions are counting on your strong wrist.
Eye on the ball but… another miss…
Hey! Batter! Hey, hey batter!
Hey! Batter, swing!
Lean in closer, maybe you’ll get hit.
Just some pain from an errant pitch.
Forget that! Focus! Let’s make the news.
Swing for the fences! What will you lose?
You lured the pitcher into your trap.
One more second everyone will clap.
You’re in the zone now, there’s no defense.
Over the plate… Now Over the fence!
Hey! Batter! Hey, hey batter!
Hey! Batter, swing!
A path of stones, I walk each day,
With skies of grey and hopes that sway.
The world feels heavy on my chest,
Yet onward still, I must contest.
Each step I take, a battle fought,
Through webs of worry, I am caught.
The dreams I chase seem far, remote,
Yet still, I cling with fragile hope.
The wind is cold, the road is long,
But deep within, there grows a song.
For every stumble, every fall,
I rise again, defy it all.
The hurdles loom, the shadows creep,
But courage wakes from where I sleep.
Through hardship’s fire, I forge my way,
And though I falter, though I sway,
I learn that strength is never still,
It bends, it breaks, but never will.
A life of hurdles? Yes, it’s true,
But with each scar, I start anew.
For every challenge that I face
Becomes the light I dare to chase.
In Rhythms & Silence- Rajit
Clouds and trees
Animals and the bees
High up in the air
Swinging so freely
I see it all
The landscapes
The moon and stars
Are all surrounding me
Legs dangling mid air
Breeze blowing
Hair flowing
My hearts a singing with flair
All while I’m swinging mid air
I’m swinging high in the sky
Close to the stars
But not quite there
The smile on my face
I cannot contain
Why would I anyways
It’s my happy place
It feels like home
And it’s swinging me closer
To the moon and stars above
To the very places I love.
An empty swing sways, lilting loneliness in the breeze,
With no children in play, no laughter's squeal to please,
Its rusty chain creaks a forlorn squeak for days gone by.
Like lonesome clouds that linger longingly in the sky.
The ropes are worn, the seat is torn, thread-bare.
The swing swings a lonely dance, with no one there.
It swings from the memory of when frolicking legs and arms.
Would pull it skyward, to thrust aloft its charms.
The wind blows dust tumbling through the ghost town,
Abandoned by the curse of salt in the ground-waters,
Caused by a wasteful irrigation scheme that shutdown.
Leaving the town barren, devoid of sons or daughters.
The willy-willy wisps of white crystal salt,
Lifts from the dust in the playground's remains.
Evoking ghostly images that twist and somersault
Through the rusty links on the swing link chains.
The empty swing swinging in the breeze,
Is a prayer-wheel, squeaking a mournful mantra hum,
That human greed drags nature down onto its knees,
Knowing what you've done, can't be undone.
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