SwingMy feet are in the clouds.
My hair grazes the grass.
My face shines in the sun.
My toes skim the soil.
The sky and earth are one.
I smell the damp dirt.
I see the tops of trees.
I move back and forth.
I go up and down.
I swing higher and higher.
Blood rushes to my brain.
Bile rises in my throat.
I feel sick and stop.
Posted as part of Writing with Shelley's Poetry Schmoetry Blogfest
Awesome! I feel the poem... I want to swing now!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem. Thanks so much for sharing! I could taste the earth:)
ReplyDeleteNina
Yeah, swinging does that to me too! Never used to. Hee hee.
ReplyDeleteThe Write Soil
That's great. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteThanks for putting us in the moment, Brianna. And you said you weren't a poem! I would totally disagree! Blessings, my friend!
ReplyDeletePam
LOL! Yep, swinging'll do that to you!! Great poem Brianna!
ReplyDeleteSuch a wonderful poem that really falls in place with a carefree summer day! Just thinking about it makes me dizzy! Julie
ReplyDeleteFun poem. Did you mean ruses or rushes?
ReplyDeleteFavorite line: I smell the damp dirt.
That was lovely :)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem! Thank you. I love the first two stanzas best . . . "feet in the clouds, hair in the grass, the earth and sky are one" - lovely. However, swinging too long makes me sick too . . . sigh.
ReplyDeleteNice -- I was getting motion sickness with the memory.
ReplyDeleteExactly. This is spot-on.
ReplyDeleteYou captured the feeling of being in a swing. Well done!
ReplyDeleteI love swinging! Especially from a big old tree! Your words so deliciously reminded me of that. I'm so glad I don't get sick when I swing. Thanks for such an enjoyable poem!
ReplyDeleteOh, you sound like me when I swing! Eventually I always have to stop.
ReplyDeleteLove your poem BTW. You probably already know it, but you have a real talent.