We go up and we go down. Sometimes twist and turn sitting on the seat. We use our feet. We become some part of physics, some part we don’t understand because everything changes for us every time we close our eyes.
But sometimes I just want to swing the bat and make a run home.
Or maybe we can learn to dance…swing and sway like in the old days.
Swing the pocket watch from left to right and fall asleep.
She was nervouse. He was too. He was happy he suggested it. She wasn’t sure. He wanted to think normal people did it . He knew that was probably not entirely true. Yet, he wanted to try. She wanted to teach him a lesson. So they did.
just sit on a swing, let the air brush past you. let it take you higher and higher.
forget life. enjoy the little things in life and just swing. it will clear you head and you’ll feel like a child again…
I was on a swingset and there was someone waiting for it. I didn’t get off because it was my turn, but they seemed upset. But it was my turn. But I got off anyways because that’s what you do; you share. There’s nothing I dislike more than sharing. But it’s what should be done. And the swingset probably likes to be shared. Or does it? Maybe it doesn’t like the number of people sitting on it day after day.
swing when you are happy.. says the song but why bother hearing the lyrics.. you can just sing and sway as the music goes.. as you should to the rthym of life…
I swing my arm from the branch and lift myself onto the rotting tree house planks, their sighs and screams muffled by my lackluster girth. The air picks up around my face and stings at every clogged pore and every blemish I get to show off to the world.
My nephew, Timothy, is playing basketball with my cousins below. The concrete is dry and scarred, and I don’t want to climb down.
I remember when I was growing up we had these swings in my backyard. I do also recall one day my older sister’s friend Katie, who was really, really fat, came over and used one…it broke. It didn’t ruin her for me, nor were the swings ruined, it did make me think about people though.
I’m sitting on my back porch. It’ a windy day, and I look off at my childhood swingset. Th wind is blowing the swings back and forth. I imagine ghostly children having the fun I never quite could.
There was only one swing left once George and May had run and claimed the two closest ones. Sparrow and Lee exchanged a look, then simultaneously burst into a sprint for it.
“No fair no fair no fair no fair!” Sparrow squealed after him as they ran, Lee cackling as his significantly longer legs allowed him to reach the swing quite a few steps before her.
We did cocaine in the treehouse first. Then we went on the swings. It was the hyperness of a child all over again with the added thrill and fear and guilt and pleasure of drugs. Then it was just two people on swings near the black, black ceiling of night.
I love to swing, i remember being spanked and after that lied down on my stomach because i couldn’t sit. I lost two teeth in a swing when trying to swing with my front teeth only, not my hands. We had three swings, one for each child.
I watched the ape fall
the limb snap from his weight
then his limb snap under his weight
gravity and evolution playing snap
on his chest with tarot cards
the sword and angel shining and smiling
Swing. Like a swing set? The one I would fight friends over, and race to get to first in elementary school. Yes that one. The one that brought endless joys to my younger recess days.
I swing high in the trees. But apparently I’m not meant to because I’m a sloth. I’m meant to sleep all day. But I don’t find that very appealing. I don’t want to miss out on life.
I love to swing in the trees during summer days. feeling the dappled light against my skin. the wind sounds like birds laughing, or maybe that’s just me. I miss those summer days when I was young.
She sat silently, swinging backand forth, enjoying the forgotten childhood sensation of letting go. She resolved to do this more often, but for now, back to the classroom, the children were waiting for Mrs. Hinton to start her class.
swing means that you are pulling yourself like on the playground your hands on the bar and your feet should be up there is another type of swing the other swing is your reflex for an example i swinged the bat to hit the ball.
i remember the days when swinging was one of the best and most fun activities in my life. Gone are those days now. All I do now is sit on my computer and work, work, work. But, I do like to dance when I get a chance. It’s really liberating to get out and be free – absent a care in the world. When did I start caring about what other people thought so much? The more I move away from that mindset, the more I start feeling like I did in those days when I loved swinging so much. I love life.
set child fun flying high and falling down memories dirt grass sun, playing with friends, laughter, enjoying easy time, children, my daughters, push me higher mom scary funny tummy wish I could be a kid again running around enjoying spring and easy relaxed time with no responsibility
I remember the days I spent on my swing set outside in my back yard. I remember feeling as if I would fly right over the tree tops if I kicked my legs hard enough. Somedays, I will still try to. I wish life could be as easy as swinging in my back yard. But, being grown up makes me fully understand the memory. I miss it.
i was swinging one day and the love of my life walked up and then we decided to play kick ball .. that was back when i was ten years old and to this day we are married and have 9 kids , 3 grand children two dogs one cat at 17 fishes . we lived a happy life.
I felt the rough wooden slats of the swing through my light summer dress, the air billowing around me in folds like invisible marshmallow, the setting sun throwing shadows on my face. The grass shimmered with crystallised dew beneath my bare feet.
kids love emma outside free air free childhood swimming yellow and blue dad by myself happiness freedom young alone and happy and enjoying the outdoors
I don’t like when people swing their hair in my face. It is too close. I used to love to swing on the swings, but now my stomach gets sick. I think that happened after having babies. My equilibrium is off. Right now I can’t think, and swinging would make me crabby, except if I were on the Windseeker?
Swig back and forth, enjoying the beautiful weather. Jumping out of the swig and Tumbling to the ground. It is hard to learn to swing, but once we learn how you never forget.
I sat in the park, calmly swinging. Then, out of no where, I saw her. She sat next to me and we swung together. Calmly. As if we were flying, all of our cares going away.
The park, grass, kids running around, dogs running around & playing, kids playing frizbee, kids playing on play structures, people swinging on swings & jumping off like maniacs. I can just imagine the warm summer breeze whipping through my hair.
I looked at the swing and smiled, remembering the times that you would push me and shout to three and do an underdog, and I can’t stop the tears on my face because I knew you wouldn’t ever push me again, or even your own daughter. Because they took you from me, from us, from everyone. And they didn’t care enough to even give us an explanation of it. I still smile, though. I have to, or I won’t stop crying.
Nobody hates swings. I am a young girl not sure of many things, but I can tell you that nobody hates swings. It’s impossible to hate such a caring, loving device. It is always there to keep you up when everything is forcing you down. In the same way, it will hold you gently as you float back to earth.
Hokey-cokey, hold hands, spin, swing. The music charges the mess of legs and arms and charms them into a harmony. The song stops. As the strains of the slow number seep outwards, the sea of joyful limbs retreats, leaving the few: in love, proud or desperate.
Her hair streamed behind her as she went higher and higher, catching her breath as the wind rushed into her lungs. Exhilarated, young and free, daring almost to swing all the way around the pole.
When I was little there were few things I adored more than flying on a swing. It was the closest I came to freedom at the time. Sometimes I’ll see kids at the park and I’ll wish that I could feel that light and unburdened again.
Now I’m teaching my kid to swing and I know that soon he will get the hang of it and I’ll be able to share one more thing with him. One more way for us to connect.
However hard you push someone on a swing, they rarely swing right over
We go up and we go down. Sometimes twist and turn sitting on the seat. We use our feet. We become some part of physics, some part we don’t understand because everything changes for us every time we close our eyes.
But sometimes I just want to swing the bat and make a run home.
Or maybe we can learn to dance…swing and sway like in the old days.
Swing the pocket watch from left to right and fall asleep.
She swang and swung on the swing
the sun hit her just right
she thought that she should start to sing
but decided to kick her legs up and take flight.
She was nervouse. He was too. He was happy he suggested it. She wasn’t sure. He wanted to think normal people did it . He knew that was probably not entirely true. Yet, he wanted to try. She wanted to teach him a lesson. So they did.
shoes
music
dance
beat
50s
retro
fun
movement
nature
trees
child
park
chain
singing
jazz
flowers
wind
hypnotize
just sit on a swing, let the air brush past you. let it take you higher and higher.
forget life. enjoy the little things in life and just swing. it will clear you head and you’ll feel like a child again…
I was on a swingset and there was someone waiting for it. I didn’t get off because it was my turn, but they seemed upset. But it was my turn. But I got off anyways because that’s what you do; you share. There’s nothing I dislike more than sharing. But it’s what should be done. And the swingset probably likes to be shared. Or does it? Maybe it doesn’t like the number of people sitting on it day after day.
swing when you are happy.. says the song but why bother hearing the lyrics.. you can just sing and sway as the music goes.. as you should to the rthym of life…
I swing my arm from the branch and lift myself onto the rotting tree house planks, their sighs and screams muffled by my lackluster girth. The air picks up around my face and stings at every clogged pore and every blemish I get to show off to the world.
My nephew, Timothy, is playing basketball with my cousins below. The concrete is dry and scarred, and I don’t want to climb down.
Flying high, feet touching the the sky
Baby laughing
So happy.
Never lose that joy
Baby of mine
Let your light shine
Always.
I remember when I was growing up we had these swings in my backyard. I do also recall one day my older sister’s friend Katie, who was really, really fat, came over and used one…it broke. It didn’t ruin her for me, nor were the swings ruined, it did make me think about people though.
this way and that
up and down
here a laugh
there a frown
high and low
away we go
I’m sitting on my back porch. It’ a windy day, and I look off at my childhood swingset. Th wind is blowing the swings back and forth. I imagine ghostly children having the fun I never quite could.
There was only one swing left once George and May had run and claimed the two closest ones. Sparrow and Lee exchanged a look, then simultaneously burst into a sprint for it.
“No fair no fair no fair no fair!” Sparrow squealed after him as they ran, Lee cackling as his significantly longer legs allowed him to reach the swing quite a few steps before her.
We did cocaine in the treehouse first. Then we went on the swings. It was the hyperness of a child all over again with the added thrill and fear and guilt and pleasure of drugs. Then it was just two people on swings near the black, black ceiling of night.
I love to swing, i remember being spanked and after that lied down on my stomach because i couldn’t sit. I lost two teeth in a swing when trying to swing with my front teeth only, not my hands. We had three swings, one for each child.
I watched the ape fall
the limb snap from his weight
then his limb snap under his weight
gravity and evolution playing snap
on his chest with tarot cards
the sword and angel shining and smiling
Swing. Like a swing set? The one I would fight friends over, and race to get to first in elementary school. Yes that one. The one that brought endless joys to my younger recess days.
I swing high in the trees. But apparently I’m not meant to because I’m a sloth. I’m meant to sleep all day. But I don’t find that very appealing. I don’t want to miss out on life.
I love to swing in the trees during summer days. feeling the dappled light against my skin. the wind sounds like birds laughing, or maybe that’s just me. I miss those summer days when I was young.
She sat silently, swinging backand forth, enjoying the forgotten childhood sensation of letting go. She resolved to do this more often, but for now, back to the classroom, the children were waiting for Mrs. Hinton to start her class.
swing means that you are pulling yourself like on the playground your hands on the bar and your feet should be up there is another type of swing the other swing is your reflex for an example i swinged the bat to hit the ball.
i remember the days when swinging was one of the best and most fun activities in my life. Gone are those days now. All I do now is sit on my computer and work, work, work. But, I do like to dance when I get a chance. It’s really liberating to get out and be free – absent a care in the world. When did I start caring about what other people thought so much? The more I move away from that mindset, the more I start feeling like I did in those days when I loved swinging so much. I love life.
set child fun flying high and falling down memories dirt grass sun, playing with friends, laughter, enjoying easy time, children, my daughters, push me higher mom scary funny tummy wish I could be a kid again running around enjoying spring and easy relaxed time with no responsibility
I remember the days I spent on my swing set outside in my back yard. I remember feeling as if I would fly right over the tree tops if I kicked my legs hard enough. Somedays, I will still try to. I wish life could be as easy as swinging in my back yard. But, being grown up makes me fully understand the memory. I miss it.
i was swinging one day and the love of my life walked up and then we decided to play kick ball .. that was back when i was ten years old and to this day we are married and have 9 kids , 3 grand children two dogs one cat at 17 fishes . we lived a happy life.
I felt the rough wooden slats of the swing through my light summer dress, the air billowing around me in folds like invisible marshmallow, the setting sun throwing shadows on my face. The grass shimmered with crystallised dew beneath my bare feet.
kids love emma outside free air free childhood swimming yellow and blue dad by myself happiness freedom young alone and happy and enjoying the outdoors
I don’t like when people swing their hair in my face. It is too close. I used to love to swing on the swings, but now my stomach gets sick. I think that happened after having babies. My equilibrium is off. Right now I can’t think, and swinging would make me crabby, except if I were on the Windseeker?
Swig back and forth, enjoying the beautiful weather. Jumping out of the swig and Tumbling to the ground. It is hard to learn to swing, but once we learn how you never forget.
I sat in the park, calmly swinging. Then, out of no where, I saw her. She sat next to me and we swung together. Calmly. As if we were flying, all of our cares going away.
The park, grass, kids running around, dogs running around & playing, kids playing frizbee, kids playing on play structures, people swinging on swings & jumping off like maniacs. I can just imagine the warm summer breeze whipping through my hair.
I looked at the swing and smiled, remembering the times that you would push me and shout to three and do an underdog, and I can’t stop the tears on my face because I knew you wouldn’t ever push me again, or even your own daughter. Because they took you from me, from us, from everyone. And they didn’t care enough to even give us an explanation of it. I still smile, though. I have to, or I won’t stop crying.
Nobody hates swings. I am a young girl not sure of many things, but I can tell you that nobody hates swings. It’s impossible to hate such a caring, loving device. It is always there to keep you up when everything is forcing you down. In the same way, it will hold you gently as you float back to earth.
Hokey-cokey, hold hands, spin, swing. The music charges the mess of legs and arms and charms them into a harmony. The song stops. As the strains of the slow number seep outwards, the sea of joyful limbs retreats, leaving the few: in love, proud or desperate.
Swings are fun and child like, hair blowing in the wind.
Wind chimes swinging and playing melodies in the breeze, ting ting.
Her hair streamed behind her as she went higher and higher, catching her breath as the wind rushed into her lungs. Exhilarated, young and free, daring almost to swing all the way around the pole.
When I was little there were few things I adored more than flying on a swing. It was the closest I came to freedom at the time. Sometimes I’ll see kids at the park and I’ll wish that I could feel that light and unburdened again.
Now I’m teaching my kid to swing and I know that soon he will get the hang of it and I’ll be able to share one more thing with him. One more way for us to connect.
A swing sits in a garden, devoid of human contact. Alone it sits once used now forgotten as the wood rots away.
A porch swing of cypress about 3 feet off the ground… hanging, swinging, quiet moments… read, think, free