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Philomena Dec 2018
I never saw it coming
You were just the guy that sat next to me every day I was stuck in a class I couldn't stand
And one day it just hit me
It was like someone had turned on the lights
And you looked so different to me

From there it was a downhill *****
Almost like skiing
Slow at first
And then faster than ever
And for me with an abundance of mishaps

Once it hit me I began to notice all the little things
I'd get nervous having lunch with you
And I was beyond terrified when you saw me in my suit
Movie nights left me second guessing body language
And when you weren't around you were in my head

And it didn't stop there
From aware to curious soon I was done
Much like skiing
I had fallen

Good thing you were there to pick me back up and hold me tight
Silly little poem I guess
Cambria Andersen Nov 2018
After the rain, came the heavy snow.
Falling with silent thuds through the trees,
the bush and below.
Muffled crunches of boot ensconced children
zipping up parkas against flakes by the million.
Stillness in my heart slipping through the broken parts,
dripping to the snow in colors of blue and vermillion.
The quiet flakes gently holding my confusion and loneliness.
Caressing my cheeks as a mother would to her child crying
in whispered tearfulness
A painful summer ambled slowly away leaving a far fairer autumn
but as winter and her snows knocked at my door, the mountain beckoned, and I lost him.
Any ski purists out there may understand this. My relationship was about over, but as snow filled up the resort, it was the end, of it all.
Dylan M Baer Jul 2018
They say humans can't fly
but I beg to differ.
There are a few of us,
a silent minority,
that can fly.

Floating through the white fluff of clouds,
Pure and untouched
Dancing on them;
high above the world
In the heavens

Before I descend back to the ground
And look up wondering when I will spread my wings
and fly once more.
Adrian Jan 2018
There's a world out there
seen only through orange lensed ski goggles
a world with a redder sky
and a vermillion ground
your eyes adjust
to the apricot hues
and after a while
you find yourself seeing orange
and thinking blue
and when you take off
those warmly toned lenses
everything seems
so **** blue
like you forgot
the entire sky around you
was just a vast expanse
of cerulean
everything is so ******* orange
until it's blue
Took a bat to a truck at a party
It wasn't my truck
I was pretty drunk, it was at a party
Struck the glass and made the truck bleed
The owner wasn't even mad about it
He let me hit it again
He started beating it with me with a ski
Rich people have skis in their garages
Owner said it was his dad's truck
We beat it until it bled out in the street
It felt good to beat something
Feels good he said
To beat instead of get beat

-E (c) 2017
Snizzlefish Feb 2017
White mountains capped in satin,
North face hiding behind a veil of frigid diamonds.

How I long to caress your powdered cheeks.
To float down your ivory aisles.
How I long to toast your champagne kiss.
To hear you softly whisper "I do" beneath my feet.
How I long to traverse across your velvet curves.
To fall head over heels into your feathery embrace.

It's something.

Old friends
New snow
Borrowed time
Blue sky

There's just something about getting cold feet.
I could wed you every single day & never grow tired of this frosted bliss.
Amanda Kay Hill Jan 2017
Up on to mountain skiing
Down the mountain
So fast that you can
Feel the wind blowing
To you hair and seeing
The beautiful pine trees
And the sparkling snow
And snow on the beautiful
Pine trees and skiing down
To the bottom of the mountain
Going inside to get warm up
And drink hot coco I love to
Skiing it is so peaceful and
Relaxing I love to see the
Beautiful view up on the
Mountain so high up in
The mountain
© Amanda Kay Hill
CK Baker Dec 2016
~ Ode to Joy ~

White gold ambassador
canine past eight
soul seekers ascend
(from cirque to seven)
to peak
to peak
to peak

Saddlerock spearhead
and flute
Christmas trees
in winter glades
over dusted crystal scape

Fissile (eiger) sanction
open shale and tusk
indiscriminate members
roll the bluffs
and ice falls
above the
north face steep

Dead dawn silent
breathless, bitter cold
the beating hearts
and brahmas
warm the spirit
of pakalolo
CK Baker Jan 2017
cedar planks line the dim lit hall
morning snow begins to fall
sepia print in a chipped wood frame
embers spark from the franklin flame

rustling sounds from bunks below
records play in a tight alcove
bacon grills on an iron sheet
gloves are warmed by baseboard heat

bean bags tossed on colored ****
papka placed as a punching bag
red brick wall with mounted poles
windows filled with glacier bowls

whiskey jack on the southern rail
a frozen patch of wine and ale
pine cones fall in gathering white
brothers bathed in firelight

sleighs are on the table top
canyon road is at a stop
northern winds that bite the face
lines are up the gondola base

cornice clipped by gully goats
the rubber man appears to float
alpine depths are on the rise
peaking sun through parting skies

triple ropes and nordic luge
honored guests from baton rouge
gelande jumps on rainbow drive
nostalgia’s light and warm reply
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