The seat solid under me,
I push off, lean back, hands tight
around the chains, sail forward,
find the rhythm. Legs pump
until the border of the schoolyard
and the sky’s a blur, until my stomach
gives a little flip, hairs on my arms
tingle, and the humid summer air
becomes a breeze.
– Sarah Russell
Sarah Russell Poetry 
Lovely. This has great rhythm and structure. And it’s a fun read. Bravo!
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Thank you, Charlotte!
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Very fun image/scene poem and great pic
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Thanks, Sabio. The fun part was finding a picture. Lots of great pictures of kids swinging!
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I want to cross back over into childhood… 🙂
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Every now and then I get to swing with my grandchildren. It’s heaven!
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You capture the joy of childhood so well. Maybe we build borders growing up
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Thanks, Bjorn. I’m sure it’s true that borders become more and more formidable as we grow up. A shame, isn’t it.
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I love the way the title is also a greeting, Sarah! Swing poems always make me run over to the playground, which is only across the road. Luckily, no children use it after bedtime… 🙂
I love the lines:
‘until the border of the schoolyard
and the sky’s a blur’.
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Thanks, Kim. It’s irresistible sometimes, isn’t it, although I’m a little more cautious these days. And have you noticed that they’ve taken away teeter totters? I used to love to do that too.
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And roundabouts!
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Had to chuckle and look up roundabouts, which I thought only applied to traffic! Yes, those are gone too. The monkey bars are still there though. And now little girls can wear jeans so their underpants don’t show!
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I agree, really fun to read. It reads like my own memory. You captured a moment here!
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Thanks so much, Nosaint! High praise.
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Fun and warm memories.. ❤
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So glad you enjoyed it, Maria. I think the feelings in the pit of your stomach that swings evoke are universal.
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I love this, very physical, and I could really feel the excitement of the child in the poem. I love going on the swings with my daughter, and still enjoy seeing how high I can get! Haha.
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Thanks, Katie. Swinging high never gets old, does it. Such fun.
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Swinging is a good way to create a breeze. Like turning oneself into a fan.
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Yup. I always felt cooler despite the exertion. Thanks for stopping by, Frank.
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I love that feeling of swinging high….you have made me feel it again through your beautiful poem Sarah!
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What a great compliment. Thanks, Carrie.
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I love the vibrancy of that moment ~ Well done Sarah ~
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Thanks, Grace. Love the feeling of a swing!
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Love it! That childhood thrill of going higher and higher until the blurring of us as a ground-living human blurs with us as a bird soaring. I used to love to go very high and then at the peak, let go and jump off….now that was soaring! 🙂 (Used to scare my mother though!)
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Thanks, Lillian. My only child timidity kept me from jumping off, but I remember reaching that point when the chain went a little slack and my stomach lurched!
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Brings back memories of elementary school (and going back to the same playground just last year!).
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Oh, what fun! I’ll bet it looked smaller than when you went to school there.
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This brings back one of my favourite summer memories :))
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My favorite too. I wasn’t much for the rest of the playground equipment, but I loved swings.
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