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Megan Hammer Aug 2019
Swinging in a hammock under palm trees, I’m taken away;
into a swing on a playground where we used to live.
Pine trees work together with the heat waves that bathe us.
My sister is playing the boys while they play basketball.
She doesn’t see that they are planning a move, but I do,
and I hope she’s got a trick up her sleeve.
At fifteen, she sneaks out every night,
out of the window with no screen.
She goes to see Michael who I don’t like.
I think he’s up to no good, but what would I know?
I’m just a five-year-old.

Swinging in a hammock, I’m taken away;
into a swing on a playground where we live.
My brother rides his bike with his friends,
and they talk about baseball cards and the next game.
And the grass is always greener when he’s around –
my mom and dad grab the camera and make the most out of today.
But my dad is not his dad, which bothers no one,
though my brother is always a little mad.

Swinging in a hammock, I wish I could be taken away;
into a swing on a playground where they lived.
I sit in dazed exhaustion from a long day –
there are no sounds of running feet nor voices chanting names.
There are no baseball cards nor boys nor basketball games here.
I don’t know where Michael is, and my sister doesn’t go out anymore.
My brother doesn’t ride his bike anymore, and his next game ended up being his last.

Swinging in a hammock, I stare with strange, confused longing
at the branches above me;
the branches that bend into each other against a clear blue sky
I have not known for a very, very long time.
as a slung hammock
the moon was positioned
in last night's gloaming
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
It was a warm June night
Swaying between two trees
You laid your head on my chest
The leaves whispered its sweet breeze
The lantern was set to low
While we read about that giant peach
Fireflies giving us a show
The AC shut off with a screech
You lifted your tiny head
Do you remember what you asked me?

Why do we never see mommy anymore?

Instead of telling you about the horror of drugs
I told you about the peace in death.
Mel May 2018
We hang in the void
between two ancient beings,
their skin grey and cracking,
their arms stretching high.

We take in the moments
and count them like tree rings,
our hearts soaring freely
as birds in the sky.
Brandon Amberger Dec 2016
What a beautiful day
Nice breeze right off the bay
The Hammock swaying
Birds chirping and playing
The sun bright and sunny
Ice tea with a little bit of honey
A patch of daisies so yellow
Could this day be anymore mellow
Deep breathes of fresh air
This feeling of balance is rare
Saudia R Jun 2016
I string up my hammock for two,
and lay in it alone,
listening to the trees whisper to one another.
How I long to hear their songs
and giggle to their stories
of centuries past and times forgotten.
The wind rocks me close to her *****
while the sun shines down on the children
hoping from flower to flower and between blades of grass.
But my eyes grow heavy, and I struggle to stay.
Then I hear them,
laughingly say,
rest now child;
all is well.
Jeni B123 Feb 2016
This hammock is my God Spot
It is stretched between two trees
And I always seem to learn a lot
As it bounces in the breeze.

As I sway I pray and listen
For God's calling in the wind
And perhaps he will send a vision
Forgiving me for all the times I've sinned.

My hammock is a double wide
In fact it has to be
For Jesus and I sit side-by-side
Held up for God's great love for me.

Forget about all your worry
And dwell in the presence of our Lord
There is no need to be in a hurry
When sabbatical has such great reward.

I take down down my hammock and shake out the sand
Then begin the journey home
But the Spirit does not let go of my hand
In case I stumble as I roam.

And I will think back on my spiritual vacation
And let my mind play dot-to-dot
As I wait in anticipation
For the next visit with my God Spot.
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