Swing Low, Suite

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Swing Low, Suite

Toes high, knees low,
arms that pull and pull and pull–
look at me, I’m flying

Sky high, arc slumped,
legs that pump and pump and pump–
look at me, I’m dying

Unhinging every minute’s wings,
in and out of strife we swing,
one more breath marks one less breath
as we criss-cross, tossed, this heath;
mind all dart like swallows’ swoop,
mind all droop like pigeons’ roost;
feathering high, free-fall low
with arms that tethered yet do pull–

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Very much a draft poem. Not sure I can call it a sonnet, but it does have fourteen lines.  Linking to Real Toads Open Platform. 

Pic is mine;  all rights reserved. 

I will be very involved in work stuff the next couple of days and may be delayed returning comments. 
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Very much a draft poem, written this a.m. Not sure I can call it a sonnet, but it does have fourteen lines.  Linking to Real Toads Open Platform. 

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9 Comments on “Swing Low, Suite”

  1. Kerry O'Connor Says:

    I’ve had American Tune stuck in my head since your earlier post, and I smiled to see the echo in your italics lines. This is a lovely swinging poem.

  2. Mama Zen Says:

    This has such a lovely cadence!

  3. hedgewitch Says:

    Bittersweet and hypnotic.


  4. Oh the image of the swing… love how you brought it to a conclusion… It became like a life’s story…

    one more breath marks one less breath
    as we criss-cross, tossed, this heath;

    Maybe we are in that swing…


  5. “Unhinging every minute’s wings” I love that. Do we really know when to breathe, the upswing or on the downswing to reality?

  6. Marian Says:

    Gallops along like a playground rhyme, the underside.


  7. I remembered that feeling of freedom on a swing. Very enjoyable read!

  8. margaret Says:

    From child-like to what we do to ourselves as we “grow up” . Turn everything inside out, don’t we? Haunting…

  9. Bekkie Says:

    I have a swing and swing on it daily so this is about a subject I enjoy just like your poem.


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