#skiing - Hello Poetry

Up, up, away I go; Climbing up the mountain. Skis and poles on the rack- The gondola ascends. It takes a few minutes To get to the summit But not enough to write. See ya around, my friends.

0

Feb 22

Feb 22, 2026 at 11:35 AM UTC

Wolfnation4800

On the Mountain

Up, up, away I go; Climbing up the mountain. Skis and poles on the rack- The gondola ascends. It takes a few minutes To get to the summit But not enough to write. See ya around, my friends.

8

The sun seemed to rise slowly, almost hesitantly, this morning - a yellow syrup pouring into a deep, dark blue sky. The air is hot and thick, like a low viscosity liquid. We’re going out on the boat this morning and when you have 9 passengers and crew, everyone’s toting something. Kim and Bili have towels and a shoulder bag of sunscreen lotions and repellents, Charles has a cooler with everything needed to make breakfast omelets on the grill (the eggs have been pre-beaten, the veggies pre-chopped, the cheese grated, the meat diced). Anna and Lisa are toting a cooler of sodas buried in ice. Leong has the “dry box” with phones, Nintendo switches, kindle readers and iPads. Leong’s rolling a luggage rack of textbooks, Sunny has a large coffee thermos, and Sophy has a bag with dry clothes for everyone. The girls are practically running over each other in their eagerness to be last onboard because the first two get to towel the night’s condensation off everything. I carried the lunch cooler full of Chick-fil-a sandwiches, but my main job is to check the indicators and disconnect the dockside water, drainage and electrical feeds as Charles takes the helm and begins his “preflight” before he fires up the Mercury 500-hp engines. I know we’re a “go” when he turns on the underwater lights - that’s my signal to cast off. The engines roar to life and then purr as we slowly pull away from the dock, we girls greasing ourselves up with sunblock. The air conditioning begins to help but picking up speed is what finally breaks the hold of the oppressive heat. As we exit the marina Charles opens-up on the throttle and that’s always a thrill. We usually ski first, before the lake gets crowded, and lounge later. Sunny, Leong and Anna like to sit in the bow, refreshed by occasional lake spray and the wind-whipped cool. Leong likes to sit in the cabin, like Charles’ copilot while the rest of us recline on lounges facing rearward to watch the skiers. Our summer mornings have passed like this, launching around 6 am, skiing, then swimming, studying and getting off the lake before the noontime “heat advisories” and afternoon thunderstorms. Later, I’m relaxing in the shade, having just gotten out of the lake, and I’m on my iPad. “What are you writing?” Anna asks. “Oh, I write poetry and stories - mostly stories these days but there is some occasional poetic recidivism.” I say. “You write poetry?” She repeats, as if shocked, “I didn’t think there were any poets left.” “Well,” I say, “Most poets died, in the early flames of science, trying to prove the pen was mightier than the sword, but there are still poets around - they live in cities where they’ll try and wash your windshield if you stop at a traffic light, and they’re frequently mistaken for the homeless - or they may actually be homeless.” “Can I read some of your writing?” She asks, after waiting through my long joke. “Absolutely NOT.” I answer.

0

Jul 8, 2022

Jul 8, 2022 at 2:35 PM UTC

anaisvionet

boating

The sun seemed to rise slowly, almost hesitantly, this morning - a yellow syrup pouring into a deep, dark blue sky. The air is hot and thick, like a low viscosity liquid. We’re going out on the boat this morning and when you have 9 passengers and crew, everyone’s toting something. Kim and Bili have towels and a shoulder bag of sunscreen lotions and repellents, Charles has a cooler with everything needed to make breakfast omelets on the grill (the eggs have been pre-beaten, the veggies pre-chopped, the cheese grated, the meat diced). Anna and Lisa are toting a cooler of sodas buried in ice. Leong has the “dry box” with phones, Nintendo switches, kindle readers and iPads. Leong’s rolling a luggage rack of textbooks, Sunny has a large coffee thermos, and Sophy has a bag with dry clothes for everyone. The girls are practically running over each other in their eagerness to be last onboard because the first two get to towel the night’s condensation off everything. I carried the lunch cooler full of Chick-fil-a sandwiches, but my main job is to check the indicators and disconnect the dockside water, drainage and electrical feeds as Charles takes the helm and begins his “preflight” before he fires up the Mercury 500-hp engines. I know we’re a “go” when he turns on the underwater lights - that’s my signal to cast off. The engines roar to life and then purr as we slowly pull away from the dock, we girls greasing ourselves up with sunblock. The air conditioning begins to help but picking up speed is what finally breaks the hold of the oppressive heat. As we exit the marina Charles opens-up on the throttle and that’s always a thrill. We usually ski first, before the lake gets crowded, and lounge later. Sunny, Leong and Anna like to sit in the bow, refreshed by occasional lake spray and the wind-whipped cool. Leong likes to sit in the cabin, like Charles’ copilot while the rest of us recline on lounges facing rearward to watch the skiers. Our summer mornings have passed like this, launching around 6 am, skiing, then swimming, studying and getting off the lake before the noontime “heat advisories” and afternoon thunderstorms. Later, I’m relaxing in the shade, having just gotten out of the lake, and I’m on my iPad. “What are you writing?” Anna asks. “Oh, I write poetry and stories - mostly stories these days but there is some occasional poetic recidivism.” I say. “You write poetry?” She repeats, as if shocked, “I didn’t think there were any poets left.” “Well,” I say, “Most poets died, in the early flames of science, trying to prove the pen was mightier than the sword, but there are still poets around - they live in cities where they’ll try and wash your windshield if you stop at a traffic light, and they’re frequently mistaken for the homeless - or they may actually be homeless.” “Can I read some of your writing?” She asks, after waiting through my long joke. “Absolutely NOT.” I answer.

16

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 slope 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

0

Dec 16, 2018

Dec 16, 2018 at 11:05 PM UTC

Lzzy5xs

The boy upstairs

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 slope 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

20

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.

0

Nov 14, 2018

Nov 14, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC

Cymru

The Mountain

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.

12

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 Unreachable Invincible Before I descend back to the ground And look up wondering when I will spread my wings and fly once more.

0

Jul 7, 2018

Jul 7, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC

DylanBaer

Powder Skiing

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 Unreachable Invincible Before I descend back to the ground And look up wondering when I will spread my wings and fly once more.

15

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 though 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

0

Jan 8, 2018

Jan 8, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC

Bluehairedboyo

Orange Veil

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 though 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

20

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

0

Mar 14, 2017

Mar 14, 2017 at 3:32 PM UTC

brielagif

Get Beat

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

14

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.

0

Feb 13, 2017

Feb 13, 2017 at 11:28 PM UTC

Snizzlefish

A Love For Winter 2/12/17

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.

15

Up on to mountain skiing Down the mountain Skiing Skiing 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 Skiing 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 Skiing © Amanda Kay Hill 12/7/16

0

Jan 9, 2017

Jan 9, 2017 at 2:42 AM UTC

amanda-kay-hill

Skiing

Up on to mountain skiing Down the mountain Skiing Skiing 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 Skiing 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 Skiing © Amanda Kay Hill 12/7/16

23

~ Ode to Joy ~ White gold ambassador canine past eight soul seekers ascend (from cirque to seven) to peak to peak to peak Saddlerock spearhead ptarmigan 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 silent dawn breathless, bitter cold the beating hearts and brahmas warm the spirit of pakalolo

0

Dec 11, 2016

Dec 11, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC

ck-baker

Christmas Trees

~ Ode to Joy ~ White gold ambassador canine past eight soul seekers ascend (from cirque to seven) to peak to peak to peak Saddlerock spearhead ptarmigan 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 silent dawn breathless, bitter cold the beating hearts and brahmas warm the spirit of pakalolo

27

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

0

Jan 2, 2017

Jan 2, 2017 at 5:50 PM UTC

ck-baker

yellow ducks of buckhorn

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

28

I laid there, battered and bruise atop of that cold white blanket, my eyes looking up and the Back of my head pressed firmly down the snow. I took a moment and just paused, mesmerised by the beautiful dark and velvety sky, pelted with starlight. I still remember how “Zen” like that moment felt. It was a time in my life, that I just let go of everything. I felt no care, no anguish or no concern. Moments like those makes one appreciate the little things in life that we all tend to overlook.

0

Jul 8, 2016

Jul 8, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC

keith-lumapas

Learning To Ski At Night

I laid there, battered and bruise atop of that cold white blanket, my eyes looking up and the Back of my head pressed firmly down the snow. I took a moment and just paused, mesmerised by the beautiful dark and velvety sky, pelted with starlight. I still remember how “Zen” like that moment felt. It was a time in my life, that I just let go of everything. I felt no care, no anguish or no concern. Moments like those makes one appreciate the little things in life that we all tend to overlook.

1

Is For Skiing in Winter and Hillwalking in Summer, but for Having fun anytime Like a nearly impossible Challenge on the six minute Planpratz ski-lift requiring you And your best friend to shed your Gear and join the mile high club while Claiming she had the best 30 seconds of Her life Or so I am Reliably informed.

0

Aug 8, 2015

Aug 8, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC

ian-beckett

Chamonix

Is For Skiing in Winter and Hillwalking in Summer, but for Having fun anytime Like a nearly impossible Challenge on the six minute Planpratz ski-lift requiring you And your best friend to shed your Gear and join the mile high club while Claiming she had the best 30 seconds of Her life Or so I am Reliably informed.

17

Snow, sweet snow, come again... Laden those tree tops to their brim. Got good gear to keep us warm, All we need is a perfect storm. 4 Wheel drive will get us there, find us smiling on first chair. heaven knows we passed the tests, Issue forth for we're all blessed.

0

Nov 14, 2014

Nov 14, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC

lou-sasol

on winter storms

Snow, sweet snow, come again... Laden those tree tops to their brim. Got good gear to keep us warm, All we need is a perfect storm. 4 Wheel drive will get us there, find us smiling on first chair. heaven knows we passed the tests, Issue forth for we're all blessed.

9

lettuce forget just for two hours that we just met and really you could be anyone, and lettuce sustain our teenage stereotypes, nourish them with our shared saliva by the fire - we are cold and soft like snow and we are happy to share our lizard tongues and lizard brains, our foolish young emotions firework in our skulls, ricocheting against the walls. sparks. earlier i watched snow drift down the chimney, slowly melt, while ash was propelled back up by hot air: neither sustained for long in new environments, in foreign air; similar up-and-down particles which i watched while our hot sweaty hands lay open like flower petals, at our sides waiting. someone had to move (i did), petals clasped together and i noticed the warmth and roughness of your hands. i smiled and continued to watch the flames.

0

Sep 25, 2014

Sep 25, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC

anastasia-webb

Snow / Memoir II

lettuce forget just for two hours that we just met and really you could be anyone, and lettuce sustain our teenage stereotypes, nourish them with our shared saliva by the fire - we are cold and soft like snow and we are happy to share our lizard tongues and lizard brains, our foolish young emotions firework in our skulls, ricocheting against the walls. sparks. earlier i watched snow drift down the chimney, slowly melt, while ash was propelled back up by hot air: neither sustained for long in new environments, in foreign air; similar up-and-down particles which i watched while our hot sweaty hands lay open like flower petals, at our sides waiting. someone had to move (i did), petals clasped together and i noticed the warmth and roughness of your hands. i smiled and continued to watch the flames.

36

just hands. just skin. just tissue. just atoms. just kids. just hormones. just chemicals. just atoms. just mouths. just water. just elements. just atoms. just young. just exploring. just open. (justatomsjustified)

0

Sep 25, 2014

Sep 25, 2014 at 6:24 PM UTC

anastasia-webb

Snow / Memoir

just hands. just skin. just tissue. just atoms. just kids. just hormones. just chemicals. just atoms. just mouths. just water. just elements. just atoms. just young. just exploring. just open. (justatomsjustified)

5