"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Monday, August 16, 2010

Swing at the Park.

Gritty chain
beneath my hands,
and muted gravel
under my feet.
I take off, and
the wind tangles my hair.
I go up,
and back,
and up again,
on a swing to nowhere.
I close my eyes
and jump.

- - -

I've been feeling pretty uninspired lately (mostly because I haven't been doing as much reading as of late), but today my two younger brothers and I went to the park. I love swings. They're a cherished pastime of my childhood, a snatch at the sky, so much fun! :)


  1. You're young. Sometimes being uninspired means you just have to enjoy your youth. Then as you get older you write about those carefree days. In fact, you do this in this poem, when you write about when you were a kid.

  2. Thank you, this is good advice. I will remember this I face other periods of non-writing.


"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."