Swings

[ironicgoose]

So a while ago I showed up here out of the blue and posted for a while, and then I disappeared.
I don't really have much of an excuse. I just stopped coming.
But I think I'll start coming again. I feel stupid starting a thread only to say that I'm going to come back, instead of just coming back.

So this isn't a thread about my return. It's a thread for poetry.

I like swings
I think I like them, at least
I like to tell myself I like them
Because I feel like I'm the kind of guy who'd like swings
If I was someone else, and I met myself, and then someone asked me if I thought the person I just met would like swings I'd say yes
Because I seem like the kind of guy who'd like swings
And I do like swings
Well, I think I like swings
You see, when I think of swings, I think of good times
I have many fond memories of swings
But every so often I actually go on a swing
And they aren't that great anymore
I'm too big for them, and they're too small for me
But I just forget about that
Because I like swings

[YsaPur EsChomuw]

Hi

[Brynn]

[brightpearl]

Eggs, newspaper, and coffee

are the first lie of the world,

saying that it's

in order.

~Sylva Fischerová
The Swing in the Middle of Chaos

[Marcus Bales]

When the World Was Young
Johnny Mercer

It isn't by chance I happen to be,
A boulevardier, the toast of Paris.
For over the noise, the talk and the smoke,
I'm good for a laugh, a drink or a joke
I walk in a room, a party or ball,
"Come sit over here" somebody will call.
"A drink for M'sieur, a drink for us all!
But how many times I stop and recall.

Ah, the apple trees,
Blossoms in the breeze,
That we walked among,
Lying in the hay,
Games we used to play,
While the rounds were sung,
Only yesterday,
When the world was young.

Wherever I go they mention my name,
And that in itself, is some sort of fame,
"Come by for a drink, we're having a game,"
Wherever I go I'm glad that I came.
The talk is quite gay, the company fine,
There's laughter and lights, and glamour and wine,
And beautiful girls and some of them mine,
But often my eyes see a diff'rent shine.

Ah, the apple trees,
Sunlit memories,
Where the hammock swung,
On our backs we'd lie,
Looking at the sky,
Till the stars were strung,
Only last July
When the world was young.

While sitting around, we often recall,
The laugh of the year, the night of them all.
The blonde who was so attractive that year,
Some opening night that made us all cheer.
Remember that time we all got so tight,
And Jacques and Antoine got into a fight.
The gendarmes who came, passed out like a light,
I laugh with the rest, it's all very bright.

Ah, the apple trees,
Blossoms in the breeze,
That we walked among,
Lying in the hay,
Games we used to play,
While the rounds were sung,
Only yesterday,
When the world was young.