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Cweeta Cwumble May 2016
I followed my dear friends to the edge of a cliff
and was greeted by a peculiar thing.
There, standing on the edge of the earth
was a swing set waiting just for me.
Her thick black seat and strong metal arms
cradled me while together we flew
into the starry night canvas, sprawling
dark blue, except for a splatter of twinkling
firefly-speckles, from the cityscape
to the moon.

Each time she lifted me I felt closer
to the heavens. I raised my chin
and let the gentle kiss of raindrops
wash away my sins, cleansing
and revitalizing my body like a baptism.
I’ll never forget the smell of the rain
on the freshly-sprouted grass, with dew drops
made from the breath of my friends
hanging delicately in the sweet air
like glass beads strung on a wire
while the crisp wind carried me higher and higher
and the most brilliant masterpiece ever created
was painted across the entire night sky.
jerrey Mar 2018
with our slick smiles and flashy bodies
now we’re impressing hell with gaudies

with our hearts thumping till they bleed
now we’re singing dirges while we scream

with our licked lips and shrilling laughter
now we’re loving  bones lying there after

with our tin flasks and empty canisters
now we’re swinging from the banisters
You know that stereotypical high school party?
Berenice Apr 12
There is no easy Poly feeling
This is not fun for those who stay tonight alone
The heart is aching
Despite of understanding 
The Gratitude I felt is  gone

For those who leave tonight
This may be blissful swinging
An implementing fantasies of youth
Two unicorns are merged into freestyle whirling
Not asking much just making love
Tommy Randell Dec 2014
To loosen with my bare hands
the wide air between us
in explaining something of meaning
I almost feel
I am pulling flesh
from the living and moving moments
possible here.

It is somehow breaking
the natural order of things
to use words alone
of all viable means
in setting out the wind-waves and rivulets
of ideas internally flowing -
but I must try and get something out for once.

I circle in bad phrases
prickling with the itchiness of sharing,
I send out a few vague words
horrified and perplexed
at their translation now they are naked
knowing you too listen
and they are at last unalterable.

Deep in the brain, far back
this is my bad time
but I know where the roots go
down into me
and from the storm’s heart
perpetual agitation pumps hand in hand
with calm acceptance.
The self *****, alternately
to fan and to freeze
whatever doubts or unease are burning.
Talk travels the spaces between us
through the clear air
in the kind of silence
surviving bones may know swinging in a wind.

But I know stillness can become alive
when living mouths bring their hearts to bear -
ears can well hear
what the breath has to say,
as the eye sees
the body’s smallest noises -
face to face we are a field of listening.

The warm comes without sound.
This is only the edge of a becoming.
We are not trapped in the lips -
already we lean inward
to know of each other and to give
not words for the wind
but a dance at ease with all that flows.
Spiralize Sep 2018
Reflections of the sad soul,
when the shouts are unheard.
From the beauty of the pain within, the skies bleed red.
Water cleanses the body,
the soul is ripped apart though.
Solitude and Isolation is a Pendulum,
as it swings to and fro...
Inspired by a painting by a friend - Gem
Jayantee Khare Aug 2018
***

hold me not
touch me not
maybe I'm clumsy-clumsy-clumsy!

have headache
want chocolate shake
maybe I'm lazy-lazy-lazy!

feel me not
mind me not
I'm cranky-cranky-cranky!

the mood is swinging
find me clinging
I'm touchy-touchy-touchy!

may be crazy
sometimes hazy
I'm moody-moody-moody!

stay away
go your way
I'm feelo-feelo-feelo!

just be there
patient listener
I'm despo-despo-despo!

here i contradict
have conflict
I'm ******-******-******!

changing hormones
troubling estrogens
tell me not a fatso-fatso-fatso!

maybe I'll be ok again!
maybe you'll love me then!


Maybe few females relate....resonate....rate .....
A big thnx to all readers and those who appreciated, thnx hp, thnx Elliott
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Dead spiders on the ceiling, just hangin’ around,
swinging on their high trapeze.
With every breeze from the window they take to the air,
doing summersaults with the rythym of the wind.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Ashley Chapman Jun 2018
We fall,
and hard,
and in the shadows,
***** ourselves on snags,
that tear our clothes;
grazed and cut,
we stagger on -
Impressions, ideas, fancies!
Of these have we been disabused.

But is this spring,
come again?

Lovely,
yesterday,
in the bright sunlight,
to see you,
felt green hat in among the photo clouds,
apple suedes on the gallery's dank floor.

Melvyn,  
and I,
merrily circling with you the light cloud images,
my nostrils full of pollen spikes.
The pictures:
wisps of trailing dreams churning in ‘scapes of infinite blue;
dark clouds,
in amongst them,
too.

Photographs in two time places
caught;
at once, all:
the other and t'other.

So excitement swells,
and everything besides us quells,
because the knowing of itself,
knows,
and dares beyond the frames;
to skirt knowingly the unsaid;
to want beyond the wounded past,
to pull things,
once again,
inside out.

In whimsy’s currents flow these thoughts,
these feelings,
these drives;
swirling in eddies,
so that as you sit,
on a summer’s day,
it moves,
a mirror to everything above.

The wavelets on the surface,
hammered into shape,
burn, bite and dazzle;
the sun’s flames leaping and dancing on ripples.

In the basement,
on the concrete,
your Y proneness shifts,
releasing knees on black-clad thighs;
two pendulums swinging,
brushing;
yawing metronomes in the cool,
coolness of my desultory thoughts.

Oh, what am I saying?
Feelings like reveries walk along these silver lips straying languorously.
These myths are too soon made,
carried one to the next,
one-on-one,
until contained no longer,
become new truths.
Visited an East End London picture gallery with a friend. Later, she texted me and said she had been called a *****, and I said, we're all that, too. Then I wanted to defend her by describing the intoxicting effect of her connection with me: her beauty.
KM Hanslik Sep 2018
We've been out here swinging for a while now
tearing at your throat like there's no tomorrow
And I've never been one to stand aside or
stand in the way of change, but she's got us on one hell of a ride
hanging over the sides now
trying to get my bearings with my guard down
standing over the edge now
we've been playing both sides, don't let us hit the ground
it'd be one too many if we went down tonight
can't catch a break wondering is the timing ever right
can't catch my breath but it's over now

passing in phases like the last round
the last scene before the grand finale
dialogue caught in tatters like you've a mouth full of razor teeth
touch my cheek
kiss me only when you feel like it
(we were there just last week)
take this dose and space it out, I need
my portions small like my dreams
always on to the next faded scheme,
it's okay though because my vision's 20/20
and I don't mind chasing
the hard-to-get things.
Cowardice and bravery
Not either-or
But different levels of

Valor and shame
A swinging door
Whose facings change when swung

A foil to confound
The Poets dream
With glory and disdain

Bravery and cowardice
Not zero-sum
  —but often look the same

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)
Samantha Cunha Nov 2018
Ivy swinging
dark tree
singing
Echoes near
Resonance of your voice
Abruptly
appears
In the long hallway of drear
Far out of sight
Far out of wits
Far out of mind
Far out of bliss
Ivy swinging
dark tree singing
All encompassing tingling
Close
& near
Our time
is here
Jesse stillwater Apr 2018
Nightbird perches high
beneath the shooting stars
that dapple the bouquet
    of sleepless peace
... his soft downy breast      
    has lent breath
to the sweet April afterglow
     heaving with song

The mystical feathered troubadour's
     swooning echo
A melodic twilight serenade
conjures a moonstruck metamorphosis,
sprouting magical wings of flight;

rousing a lonely heart's esprit
     to fly away unfettered
     in constellations of song

How dare imaginings spilled from the big dipper
enchant such an enrapturing magic spell?
It's so far to fall from swinging on a star!
It's so far beyond nearing crescent moon
     when you wish upon a star  

Thereupon struck by a bewitching bolt of starlight;
Dropping asudden as a shooting-star!

    Rolling like trailing thunder;
        tucked and tumbling ―
             somersaulting,

           celestial rumbling
blossoming with an unearthly joy

A nascent winged heart splayed bare,
soars upon cresting wind waves;
    dreaming of that shapeless  
          w h o  o  o  o  s h ―
         gathering beneath
        ~ uplifting wings ~

  Suddenly ― gliding freely,
       winging gracefully
  upon wafting star drift glitter;
lilting lightly upon the arising cadence
of nightingale's melodious fluted song

Nightingale sings sweet April perfume
beneath the star shed lamplight twinkle

... and it makes no difference if it's only a dream
    if my heart had wings



imagined by:   Jesse Stillwater
22nd  April  2018

Imagination set free ... perhaps rooted in the branches of a tree
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2397540/a-lost-angels-wings/

Luscinia, nightingale -  songbird noted for its melodious nocturnal song
.
PC classic Feb 2016
telecast trepidations
at the top of your
tongue

move like the moon

shout like the
sun

The monkeys are swinging to the beat of the drum

Says
"It's finally begun"
"It's finally begun"
r Apr 2017
Tonight watching the waves
break over Dead Woman's
Shoals quite a ways away
through the windows
of the Riverview
where I once thought the bar
was the bottom of a boat
scarred deep from the drink
on the rocks and sand bars
until I realized it was a coffin
shellacked black
as the hazards of marriage
between a waterman
and a lonely woman
black as the soft leather
of the stool climbed
and kicked away
black as the water
the night
you found her there
still swinging
from the rope
of the nets
she repaired
for her man
while he was away
chasing the catch
deep in the darkness
of the black waves.
Inday Mar 15
She wakes up with a shock; feeling the blood boil from her head down to her toes, its the sound of that door.

The repetitive sound of that door slamming is a reminder of the poison in her life who seamlessly seeps into her heart continuing to infuse her mind with hate.

That door is used for a swinging entrance into her soul leaving it with touches of darkness until she simply can't understand how to love another person; how to empathize with another's time of distress. She loses touch, suffering to understand what love is.

The life who uses that door brought her into this world and smothers their existence with cold truths, lies, neglect, and stories of their past; inflicting damaging images and thoughts that cannot be unheard.

She's trying to persevere, but they persist to acknowledge their unreceptive response to her cry's for help, it destroys her light; leading her down the path where the poison starts to consume all her thoughts and distorts her rights to express herself with the constant feeling of never being heard.

You built darkness in her and every layer affects even the smallest of challenges in life but you left her with a flame of curiosity to understand what others could not even care to comprehend; she sustains her curiosity for life.
King Panda Mar 2016
I.

and I galumphed
to the rock salt
shore and
collapsed
waiting for
you
to run over
the dune’s
*****

II.

it had only been
a few minutes
but I could see
the rhino cloud
coming
full
steam
and spitting
fire
if only I had
the strength
but you stole that
from me
too

III.

the steam was
fresh against
my cracked
skin
I could feel the
salt melt off
into the
sand
crane swinging
jaws engulfing
my twisted
body

IV.

I did not find you
inside
only an
unbreakable bottle
with an
unreachable
note and a skeleton
with rings
on its
fingers

V.

my last dreams
were ones
of us
on a mountain
hot air balloon
shadow
specked against
the sunset
everything was so
big
the wind blew
your hair
everywhere
as I drank
in the
storm
this was the last
time I remembered
smiling

VI.

black expanse
with a little
white dot
popping from
corner to
corner
life always played games
with me
death was no
different

VII.

this creature
feared you
this creature
was a long visit
with fire burning
and love notes
this creature was
spit out by
your mouth
this creature
was loud by
your breath
this creature
spackled and
magnetized
never reborn
boat stench and
teeth
mashed
and mashed
again
raining on
your body as
the desert breaks from
its last
drought

VIII.

we will meet
again
I’m sure of
it.
Pigeon Sep 2015
Oh, I'm a blackbird singing in the dead of night but my voice is shot
I'm a river-stone that's all alone and skipped over more often than not
I'm a bird flying off of a bridge and a pendulum swinging from my ceiling
Because only bidding everything farewell can help the way I'm feeling
Kaitlin Evers Oct 2016
I will always remember
Swinging with you in the night
January through December
You were my safe place, my light

Little sister I always favored
Saving me from every scree  
Always kind, and rarely untoward
Without you, I wouldn't be me

The simple sweet moments we have had
Laughing, talking, and crying too
In everything you were my comrade
Even my relationship guru

When little, you'd climb into my bed
And even now as we are grown
Though some pieces have been left unsaid
All silence between us is known

Lovely little sister
Inseparable friend
Through the sweet and bitter
You are here to the end
Dedicated to Kristy, the most beautiful soul I know <3
Valsa George May 2016
With the peak of spring in the month of May
In the early hours of a pleasantly sunlit day
Two kids sat cuddled on a swing
Feeling as though they were taking on wing

Swinging in the air, they began to sing
Their sweet lay breaking the silence with its ring
They kicked their legs in rising delight
And felt like thistledowns ever so light

Up and down on the swing was fun
They closed their eyes on being face to face with the sun
Felt the swish and sway of the buoyant air
And knew the light tug of breeze on their curly hair

As the air got caught in the frills of their frock
Their eyes gleamed bright in delightful spark
Imagining themselves to be astronauts in space,
An ebullient excitement lit up their face

From a raised angle, they saw the Earth in green folds lie
Watched the surrounding hills standing awfully high
Saw a small stream flowing as a slow moving train
With trees lined up on its banks in unbroken chain

Longingly I watched these children free of all worry and pain
Also their aerial feats, not tainted by any melancholy stain
How I miss these childhood days of innocent fun
As my hours, towards the sunset, quickly run
I envy little children and their care free days......! They leave me immensely nostalgic as I had a joyous childhood in a large happy family !
Jessop Oct 2018
At the swinging of a pendulum
The seconds pass one, by, one.
Like beats of the drum
The spinning of the hands which dictate time

But it ends,
The weight hits the bottom, the pendulum stops swinging
The drum falls silent
With its energy all spent, it stops.

Without the will to continue,
It is allowed to die,
and silence takes over.
As time is allowed to stop.
Although I didn't realize until after writing it, this is my take on the country song "My Grandfather's Clock" by Johnny Cash, but obviously a poem
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