"skiers" poems
Every Sunday they would play, dancing on water,
Skidding across the ripples, and climbing up together
Two skiers fall in love, I for her,
And she for another, a friend to both.
Coveting what we wished was ours.
Idly on the shore I stood
Where The water cooled my feet
Watching how she watched,
how she chased
with a smile, I'd have given anything to make.
When the object of her eye, fell
Hard into angels' arms,
And nineteen turns around the sun
Was all that he would have
She cried, and her tears broke my heart
We both lost a friend that day,
But what hurt me most
Was how I knew she'd have never cried like that
If it had been me who fell
And so inside I said, I wish I could have traded fates
So for once I'd have made her smile stay
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
This is for all my battle buddies, HOOAH!
Serving in Iraq,
Serving in Afghanistan.
With a grainy, sandy, hot, and humid desert surrounding you.
Looking into miles of nothing.
Always ready, always on patrol, ready to roll.
Ducking your head to re-load in the middle of the firefight.
Taking a stand against the evils of the world.
To my battles with integrity,
We all bleed the same,
Fighting for freedom of the Red, White, and Blue
Live green die green
Scream it with me at the top of your lungs:
HOOAH!
Soldier people;
This for all the clowns that play Video Games
Talking that 1337 (LEET) speak
Owning some newbs for fun
Screaming at the little kids that they ****
I’m taking on the girls 1 versus 1
Passing by the hours staring at the screen
Drinking Mountain Dew, and eating skittles
Sniping people with your M4,
Blowing them up as they walk through the door
Gamer people;
This is for all my Tech-y nerds
Working with computer components
Make sure you stay grounded
We don’t want an electrical eruption
I hated Network Theory,
But I still didn’t get a B.
The “have you tried restarting,” people.
Surfing the Internets, refer to Wikipedia people.
Tech people;
This is for all the Snowboard bums,
We ride hard, but still chill
Jumping in front of the skiers for a mighty thrill
We do it for an Adrenaline rush
Boardin’ through the trees,
And the snow that is white and plush
Snowboard people;
This is for all the Music lovers
That let the beat move their souls
Bumpin’ to the rhythm
Dancing out of control
Let the beat take you away
Fist pump yourself into the night,
Even though I can’t dance, ‘cause I’m White.
Music people.
Sep 27, 2011
Sep 27, 2011 at 9:43 PM UTC
It’s 30…
it’s 28 degrees outside,
or so says the rust-cased thermometer
on the balcony.
The blizzard we’ve been expecting all week
is a churning grey mist in the distance—
it is easy to see from the balcony
if I look through pine boughs.
The woods expanding below our mountainside balcony
are also home to several swanky condos;
evergreens and birch all down the mountain,
and a dusty snow falling in the valley below.
We are all familiar with the reddened barn
staring at us, perfectly opposite our balcony,
commanding a small field
on the little mountain across the dip of the valley.
But the blizzard is swallowing the neighbor mountain
in its snowy march towards the balcony.
And the lazy, drifting flakes above the pines
are shook into a frenzied dance.
A group of skiers, lost and floundering in the white
near the buildings lodged in the woods below
understand that cold, chaotic feeling I know
as the valley blurs in whitewash.
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 9:20 PM UTC
Trees curl their toes
holding tight
the shifting fields
of yellow grain,
thin air roars
like an avalanche
through the branches
and a family of rooks
tilt forward like
skiers on the piste...
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
Bleeding paranoia
and one too many lines
searching for the definition of "purpose"
in porcelain skin and ruby designs.
Metallic marathon skiers
race down the snow, white slope
blue veins may be the finish line
wake up little Susie... let's find a new way to cope.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
Thick fog breaks across West Point Lake ...
Bass boats and crappie fishermen , tour boats and skiers
skim across her blue looking glass , Wood Ducks test the skies
northbound up the Chattahoochee River , bank anglers anchor poles
along her fortified edges .. White granite boulders visible from the mid-line .. Indigo hope and dreams as starlings silhouette her morning miracle , shad minnows skim the blue mirror , visiting gulls feast along quiet shoreline . A tall Georgia Pine mirage forms in tranquil coves , early day crows call hysterically from the hardwood thickets .. Turtles occupy muddy banks , Whitetails quietly graze worked fields , dragonflies and monarchs incessantly toil beneath the strengthening heat of Summer , baldfaced hornets fortify their paper rampart high atop a lone River Birch ...
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 10:36 AM UTC
After two long days
of water skiers
and screaming kids on floaty things
skipping across the surface at high speed
behind motor boats
both big and small
loud and not so
of plump sun reddened revelers
sprawled on pontoon boats
playing loud music
drinking
48 hours of fishing lines
and hooks hanging at various depths
in anticipation of fish that may never come
of jetskis
that streak across the water
like water skeeters on *******
After all of that
a five day weekend
to rest in the sun
to let things settle
A long weekend for the lake.
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 9:09 AM UTC
there was a little mouse and he just longed to be
high up in the alps so he could learn to ski
he took at trip to switzerland where theres lots of snow
to the great big mountains where all the skiers go.
he bought himself some skies and some goggles to
and a thermal ski suit his favourite color blue
he took some skiing lessons till he got it right
ready for his go on the mountains white.
mouse he starting climbing till he reach the top
now the mouse was ready to began his drop
down and down he went down the mountain side
gathering his speed as he began to slide.
in and out bends with his skiing skill
he was having fun having such a thrill
mouse he reached the bottom as happy as can be
vowed he would return once again to ski
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 11:02 AM UTC
Men lift their heads in wonder, shivering
Travelers halt, in fearful awe they stand
Crowds of nations in cities, quivering
As thunderous rhythm shakes every land
The Mountains are singing, they croon, they chant
Arousing poor surprised man’s mortal fears
Avalanche shrug of titanic shoulders
Dismisses the lethargy of ages
The throaty joy of caroling boulders
Carves new lyrics in history’s pages
The Mountains are singing, Earth is enthralled
Climbers, Skiers, and Poets lend their ears
Brave Matterhorn’s signal awakes them all
Kilimanjaro with full voice bellows
Everest, Chimborazo heed the call
Quandary Peak, bright-eyed, joins his fellows
The Mountains are singing, in grand chorus,
Majestic lyrics of tectonic tears
The cliff face shudders, leaping ecstatic
Landslides mark the beginning of the dance
Earthquakes become great frolics dramatic
Amid the refrains of stony romance
The Mountains are singing, a newborn song
To echo unto the end of all years
A rocky deluge of glorious verse
The Alpine cantata rumbles splendid
A true Canticle of the Universe
Whose beauty radiant shan’t be ended
The Mountains are singing, O, what a song!
Rejoicing each thunderstruck heart which hears!
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 3:03 PM UTC
Rainy days and Mondays no longer get me down
Sorry Richard and the late Karen Carpenter
Snow and ice get me down
They are pretty but get in the way and are hazardous
Sorry skiers and skaters
Naysayers may not apply or get in the way of what matters
What matters is doing the very best possible
Doing the right thing when the wrong thing is easier a taste
that completely disagrees with me
My heart is on a page and one that I author
Some will never open it
Too much has happened
Too many last said goodbyes
Rainy days and Mondays no longer get me down
C@rainbowchaser2023
Feb 9, 2022
Feb 9, 2022 at 11:41 AM UTC
they pass each other on the paths
histories trailing behind them like
smoke from their cigarettes, which
most gave up eons ago
some wield two sticks, to stave
off the inevitability of their demise;
arms, legs, zig-zagging like
cross country skiers
others have the blessed cane of age
a teetering tether to this world, their
backs bent forever making a question
mark, a parenthesis at best
yet others have staffs, shepherds
of invisible flocks, ones they tend to
now in a world only they inhabit, looking
backwards at grazing apparitions:
lambs of their lives they
long ago sacrificed, sheep they
sheared--wool woven into coats
for other old men with sticks
who have their own histories, their
own fleeting flocks, their own encounters
with stick toting strangers, their own
walks on well worn paths
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 5:10 PM UTC
that christmas in whistler
you led me towards something
glorious
i met new people
we shared stories
and i stood by the mountain
while skiers came towards me
gracefully
like a dance upon the snow
synchronized
your presence was everywhere
i could finally see
as your beautiful crystals
showered me
your sun still came to shine
and the star upon the trees aligned
and when it was time to get in line
i saw others just like me
alone at christmas time
oh Yahweh
oh Yahweh
almighty one
how pleasing to know
you chose me
for your son
May 11, 2025
May 11, 2025 at 8:24 PM UTC