Haunted? You could say that. But there’s a dichotomy, too. That’s why there are words like “peaceful” and “comfort” included here. And a lack of shadow, because it is noon. Lonely, the empty playground. But quiet.
Poetry / Recess
The sounds of the playground
are comfort in winter
no children, no laughter, no shouts
here outside
just the iron ring cry
of a swing on a eye hook
the wind in the monkey bars
sleet on a slide
Grey snow all but banishes
yellow paint hopscotch
and ice jams the joints
of the merry-go-round
Nobody lingers here
just a few blackbirds
and me and it’s noon
so my shadow is gone
All alone with the crows
and the sounds of the playground
so useless
so empty
so peaceful
so cold
+ +
TaleWeaver the author’s storytelling, writing and creativity book/game, at www.lulu.com/awhavens
Blog at www.TinkerX.com
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ShivaSamurai reviewed Version 1 -
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Oh man, I love this. Calm, soft, blissful, and really capturing a moment like a photograph. The way you paint the image of this playground is great, especially the “iron ring cry of a swing” part. That’s my favorite other than the way you end it, which is beautiful, the four so lines. It’s a good length, leaving us with how things are without getting us caught up in the playground for too long. Peace.
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Witchy_Child reviewed Version 1 -
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Phill reviewed Version 1 -
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I have read your poem. Nice to see people of my own age group here. I too have looked at the empty playground in winter. I’ve felt that coldness not just from the weather but from the sounds of the mechanics of the play equiptment without the sound of the children to overshadow it. I always get those visions in my head of the playground as it was in summer with all the kids and parents running around and the screams of excite little children having a blast. It almost gives the winter playground a haunted feel. Is that what you felt. Let me know if I’m offbase. Thank you for this cool poem.
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