"sledding" poems
Sledding, a white flurry of glitter
Glass trees throw soft needles a-sprinkle
A blissful silver rocket. It all flies by
Sparkles of diamond on the ceiling or sky
Radiant light, its fate to be wrinkled
by the dim labyrinth of this shining prism.
Gray aurora, dancing in the diamond rain
Iron curtains hide the truth
Glass and pains of steel, in a prism of gray
Do you see windows or mirrors?
All I see, a magnificent pane
A merry toast! To all I say cheers,
with a smile worth its years.
Lift your brittle glass as you would lift a curse.
And drink heartily from the once molten, crystal sand.
Drink the guile and drink the hate
Drink the lies of shame and berate
Drink to see that a flower in gray
is a prism for life, not a fancy bouquet.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 5:29 PM UTC
i've been
reading poetry
ee cummings and--
sylvia plath
pretty pools of words filled with color
--and ducks
charles bukowski is a
***** old man
lots of ***** old
words
and images
but real dirt, not pretend
real's so hard to find
these days
they talk about love like it's
broken--painful--deadly--
always wonderfully beautiful
(like the beautiful snake whose
poison's killing you)
that's not
love
because it's falling asleep with warm breath on the back of your neck and your bed a little too small
because it's laughing so hard that you almost snort macaroni and cheese out your nose
because it's doing laundry and pausing just to notice how your clothes smell like her
because it's waiting alone, imagining how big you'll smile when she comes back - it's always bigger than you think.
because it's knowing that the pain's not part of love, it's part of being human
they don't know
nearly as much as they
think--
they do
i love--
baseball in the park when it's not too hot
(I play shortstop)
chocolate ice cream cones in the hot sun
(dripping down my hand)
flying kites in autumn winds
(the falling leaves make the difference)
sledding through the snow
(and crashing into snowbanks)
i love--
coca-cola
(in the glass bottles)
root beer
(with vanilla ice cream)
7-up
(it's better than sprite)
mountain dew
(caffeine!)
i love--
you
(and the soapy smell after you shower)
you
(making me laugh more)
you
(how much you care about people)
you
(and you let me, too)
that's my proof they
don't know
(what
they're talking about
that is)
so--
i think poetry
is overrated
Jan 25, 2010
Jan 25, 2010 at 10:08 PM UTC
you went sledding
with the kids
while I filed the paperwork
and cried
I used to be your lady boy
shining in green pit-bar light
as you kissed me like
the kids were with my mother
stuck at the bottom of the
treehouse slide in a pile
in mud
laughing
when
in reality they were
just budding inside of you
fertilized with apple liquor
and the perfume smoking
from my chest as you
unbuttoned the first few
revealing the scar left by
my brother's first pocket knife
the skin of my young years
the skin I am wearing now
cut by these ******* papers as
you freeze
tearlessly
in a pom pom hat
teaching our babies how to make
the perfect snowball
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 10:18 AM UTC
Spring is my favorite
Flowers and trees bloom with life
Birds sing
Rainy Days
Then comes summer
and its my favorite
Hot days
Warm nights
Cool water
Green trees and freshly cut grass
Fall comes in a flurry of leaves
Orange Red Purple Yellow
Pumpkin patches,
Halloween and Candied Apples
And Fall is my favorite
Snowflakes and Winter
Thats my favorite season
Heavy drifts of snow
Snowmen and icicles
Christmas and New Years
Ice skating and Sledding
Followed by Hot Chocolate
Flowers pop through the snow
Days become warmer
and snow melts
Spring is back,
as is my favorite season
Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 3:06 PM UTC
Extra! Extra! Read All About It !!
Recent Icelandic Sledding accident.
A mountain of Vanilla pudding was mistaken for
the Olympic Sledding Hill.
Professional sledders lined up, leaped on their sleds,
and found themselves floundering in pudding.
The mayhem was only multiplied by swarms
of wild parrots, squawking at sledders as they
thrashed about attempting to dislodge themselves
from the pit of pudding swallowing them whole.
Survivors were taken to Pud'N'Pie Clinic,
for treatment of acute pudding suffocation,
and treated with chocolate syrup and whip cream.
Jan 11, 2011
Jan 11, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
She is holding me tight
Our breath in plain sight
Her nose adorably red
From winters bite.
Our minds compromised
From the wrong drinks made right
The liquor warms our blood
As we push off the top
And slide into childhood
Her hold begins to tighten
As this becomes more exciting
We hit the bottom and take a tumble
This is the girl I love
With her in my life, I cannot act humble.
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
I won't remember you...
the husky sound of your voice
tall, lanky stature
Lithuanian shape of your
Baltic blue eyes sledding
across my heart
even this embrace
standing on Melbourne beach
the wind swoons
two silhouettes melting into
each other
All the lines on my hands
are erased
the ocean pours tears into
a half moon shell
my body, a blind mermaid
washed ashore
upon the smooth, faceless sand
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 3:14 AM UTC
I love....
butterflies. movies. music. my family. my friends. my wii. chocolate. ice cream. chicken. lemonade on a hot summer day. watching tv. talking. God. my computer. my classroom. my job. my sister. my mom. my dad. my grandma. my grandpa. love. working out. playing the flute. driving in my car listening to music. walking. biking. sledding. the first snow. chap stick. sleeping. dogs. my house. my roommates.
you.
Aug 3, 2010
Aug 3, 2010 at 9:11 PM UTC
as a boy
I am not sad
to be sledding
alone-
the count
of my uphill
steps
coveted
by counts
lost
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
Numbers are placed in blocks
Jump rope
And hopscotch
One
Two
Skip a few
Ice skating and sledding
In the winter
Back to spring
We're so full of life
And happy inside
Seasons come
Memories fade
But there's something gloomy
And something gray
This year I don't feel like
I want to play
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 3:06 AM UTC
I don’t have any pressure to go sledding
Because I’m still afraid of falling on the ice
And you loved the snow
I don’t have to risk my life on icy back roads every day
On the pretense of returning your things
Just so I don’t have to wait 24 hours to see you
I don’t have an extra pair of your shoes under my bed
From when you accidentally left them there
You were always leaving your things around
I don’t have a second home to spend the day at
With open fields full of snow banks for fort-building
The house is gone and so are you
I don’t have a reason to build a snow-fort this year
No one cares to sleep in it, it’s too cold
You were that kind of crazy
I don’t have someone to bake cardamom cookies with
We both had sticky dough on our hands
And we washed them in the same sink at the same time
I don’t have a friend at the Christmas parties
Who can back up my wild stories about the week
And argue with me about the rules for card games
I don’t have a cuddle-buddy for watching movies
We never really got the chance to do that
We were always running off to get some alone time
I don’t have to hide when I’m changing out of my wet snowy clothes
Because you’re never going to walk in from the cold
And start changing your clothes too
I don’t have a fire in my hearth
But I’m sure there’s one in yours
I used to enjoy watching you make them with your dad
I don’t have any wet, ***** sandy puddles to clean up
Because you’ll never walk across my kitchen
And forget to take off your boots
I don’t have to walk around barefoot
Even if it means getting my socks wet
Because you’re not there to remind me with your calloused toes
I don’t have twice as many presents under the tree
Not because we ever exchanged gifts, we were too poor
But every present you received and loved made me happy too
I don’t have snow down my neck from the snowballs you threw
I don’t have wet globs of melting ice in my hair because you tackled me
I don’t have anyone to make tea for, because I don’t even like tea
I don’t have your countless little siblings to share my snacks with
I don’t have to make cooking mistakes because I can’t bring you baked oatmeal
I don’t have a built in heater to share the backseat with
I don’t have a hoodie I can pass back and forth between us
I don’t have a companion to go on long walks with
I don’t have a curious mind to share kissing ideas with
I don’t have a hand to hold when I’m about to fall down on the ice
I don’t have you
*This is the time of year that makes me miss you
I start to notice the empty spaces in my life
And there are little things everywhere to remind me of you.*
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 11:08 AM UTC
Winter.
New York.
North Pole.
Antarctica.
It's like entering a Winter Wonderland!
Building a snowman is as fun as shoveling with dad.
Sledding downhill is as exciting as going down a roller coaster.
Printing snow angels is as gorgeous as the white snow falling down.
Drinking hot chocolate gives my heart a hug.
It's the season I love the best which is Winter.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 6:29 PM UTC
A square, white, four bedroom, one bath country home
With fourteen kids, parents and much family love
We didn’t have abundance: fiscally poor
But we had each other: banked on our family
We shared our victories and or trying pain
We were a modest Scottish Catholic Clan
Isolated, we were not to our immediate clan
Our uncle’s lived within a trot, fifteen in his home
We kids worked and played on the farm without pain
It was an adventurous labor of extended family love
We worked, laughed, cried, and played as a family
In the early years, we young ones were anything but poor
However, in grammar school, we learned the meaning of poor
And materialism and envy, outside our cloistered clan
But together we lived and loved as a close nit family
Sure we had disagreements, not material goods, but a solid home
White paint peeled on the outside, yet inside was painted love
Still, there were poverty jokes, ridicule and masked pain
Every family has strife, baggage, and superfluous pain
Our parents didn’t drink; we had faith, yet fiscally poor
Ole Dad plumbed toilets; Mom slaved in the house, both with love
So we wouldn’t trade riches for our impoverished meager clan
Summer berries to pick, winter sledding, spring kites, and forever home
Kickball games, splashing in ponds, nature hikes and family
We were not taught to show emotions, hug, not an “I love you family,”
Albeit, an honest, polite, and proud Scottish Clan
The old house was eternally warm; it was our forever home
Until 1999. Dad passed from cancer still money poor
Yet rich in the knowledge of family and that his true pain
Was never saying that word; on his deathbed he whispered “Love”
Though our patriarch was laid to rest, we rose with the word “Love”
Eventually, the house was sold, but always one huge family
Mom spends her days in a retirement home remembering her clan
As time passes and memories fades, it lessens the pain
Of the loss of a noble father, economically poor
Yet with a strong work ethic, church, and love, built a home
Fourteen children now forged fourteen homes on love
Many, still, financially poor, but rich in forever family
Correcting mistakes that caused pain, while perpetuating our clan
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
While working on the formula for his next destination.
Dr Who made an error with straight forward multiplication
His assistant broke his train of thought with some ill timed ‘do-gooding’
Though she knew he couldn’t concentrate while eating Christmas pudding
When the tardis landed with a routine solid “thump”
He opened the door in a tee shirt, and took a backwards jump
“This doesn’t look like China.” he mused, looking out the door
And went to get some warmer clothes so he could go and explore
He finally re-emerged wrapped in layers of bedding
“Where is the basic farming? Why are those people sledding?”
“I wanted to study parrots and all I see is penguins.
I aimed for Riceland, not Iceland” He turned and went back in.
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 1:35 PM UTC
inside me, the baby
is eating
snow
-
the phone is on
in my turned
off
home
-
at the top of the hill
a boy means
to hop on the disc
with his dog
-
bring back
a memory?
I am too poor
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
It’s getting to be pumpkin time
The time of magic and fun
A time when there’s a chill in the air
Apples abound along with scents of cinnamon
Carved jack o lanterns
Faces etched creatively
Candles lit
It’s getting to be pumpkin time
The beginning of the holiday season
When cookies are baked
Pies made
Children dress up in costumes
Seeking a reward of candy and other goodies
It’s getting to be pumpkin time
A time of celebration
A time of remembering
Good friends
Families
And traditions
Where turkeys are roasted
Sweet potatoes baked
Cranberries served
It’s getting to be pumpkin time
A time of holiday cheer
Hot chocolate
Apple cider
Herbal tea
And peppermint
It’s getting to be pumpkin time
A time of snow falls
Sledding
Snowball fights
Laughter and glee
Trees decorated
It’s getting to be pumpkin time
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 11:31 AM UTC
True tangled Gordian thoughts entwine
Amid labyrinthine paths that wind
Sliding sledding serpentine
To assay value and extent
Braid a mind a shoreward end
Seeking weeping thrashing send
Infused with knowledge deep and sound
A consciousness cogitabund
Within the portals self confined
Disconnected judgements breed
Diffuse journeys often made
To darkened places
Where no light
Of vision lucid sparkling bright
Will penetrate and seem so safe
Writhing heavy leaden womb
Elusive dissolute abound
Reclusive and so moribund
But in the darkened space there seems
A distant tendril sparkling white
A reaching focal point to strive
To make that leap
Great grasping bound
Wrapping arms so safe around
Clasping forgone lines abandoned
Sublimating impasse upward
Strength of purpose
Welling forward
Great eruption spewing outwards
Lava flowed eureka moment
Spreading outwards
Flowing downwards
Cogent sentient live born
Brewed in darkness
Drinks the bright
With clarity and strength unite
Dazzling brilliant shining moment
Cleft asunder glorious light ....!
Oct 14, 2009
Oct 14, 2009 at 2:13 AM UTC
So pretty to see everything in white
Making all things look very bright
Everything was covered for as far as I could see
Nothing but eerie silence for a while I felt free
Everyone venturing out should wear their snowshoes
Their cars stranded on the road look like icy igloos
The weighted down evergreens have a glow
For they are beautifully blanketed with snow
Schools, roads and businesses are shut down
And no one is allowed out about in the town
Should get out and have some winter wonderland fun
Build a snow man and go sledding some
Make a snow fort or snow angels and snow-cream
Better hurry up before it's plowed, for now, it’s not a dream
Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 9:07 AM UTC
the snow falls outside
and covers all it encounters,
but will it ever be
as pure as white should be?
can it make me forget that
I have a dark past?
can this frigid frost
cleanse me all the same?
I'm cold as the winter
that surrounds me;
will snow bring me warmth?
No, I don't have much faith
in the snow anymore.
not since I saw it
piled high on tombstones
and empty swing sets.
in fact I haven't appreciated snow
since the last blizzard
that poured down on memories
of us,
as I made snow angels
in images of your smile
and went sledding
in the sound of your voice.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
I have a fear,
it's not that I'm afraid of the future,
I'm afraid of a realization,
one I had last week.
What if...
What if it's downhill from here?
My childhood was amazing,
my parents were excellent,
but the real issue was my friends.
The fun we had was real,
it's just not the same,
academic discussion,
scientific deduction,
dissection of stories and ideals,
what's it all mean?
My favorite memories are not of discussion,
but action,
actions I keep written on a piece of paper,
strapped tightly to my chest,
a eulogy of youth,
time spent as kids.
Through the haze of years I see,
low rate movies,
bonfires burning just a little too bright,
Wendy's runs in the dead of night,
skinny dipping out on the lake,
firecrackers bursting over head,
roman candles,
no small talk,
real talk,
girls,
near death experience,
you were there right?!
Mario Kart,
video games,
disgusting food combination,
skating behind the moped,
sledding behind the SUV,
basketball on black tar,
mustard spilled all over the car,
splints and broken wrists,
word games,
collective humor,
stupid and indecipherable,
socks with sandals,
up all night talking in the basement,
not a care in the world,
no ambition,
dumb little kids,
messing around doing dumb things,
throwing common convention in the fire-pit,
flickering flames,
nostalgia on release,
gone our separate ways.
I had realization last week,
those guys weren't my friends,
they were my brothers.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 2:53 AM UTC
is drinking not one but three mugs of ghiradelli hot cocoa
is putting the heat on 73 degrees
is thinking on tuesday about friday
is hitting the snooze button yet again
is getting a full eight hours of sleep
is turning red while sledding
is staying up on hello poetry
is not thinking about the "should haves"
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 6:45 PM UTC
Way above our little town
Sitting high upon the hill
The place we all called Christmas House
And I think it sits there still
We used to go there sledding
No one once chased us away
That place we all called Christmas House
I wonder if they still sled there today
To us it seemed enormous
All lit up with lights so bright
That place we all called Christmas house
I wonder if it's still lit up tonight
There was a tree in the front window
You could see it from the road
The place we all called Christmas House
It was a palace when it snowed
There were wreaths in all the windows
The arbor covered with red bows
The place we all called Christmas House
I wonder if anybody knows
It's been years since I have seen it
It gave all our hearts a lift
The place we all called Christmas House
To visit there, it was a gift
We went there every winter
We would sled, have snowball fights
The place we all called Christmas House
Was always lit so bright
One thing I remember though
In all my time upon the hill
The place we all called Christmas House
Was always quiet, empty, still
I know it's been near forty years
Since I left home, moved away
The place we all called Christmas House
Still sticks with me today
It's a memory of a better time
When the winters were much colder
The place we all called Christmas House
Makes me forget that I got older
I've dug out my old sled this year
To take home, back to the start
To the place we all called Christmas House
Is on a hill, and in my heart
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 7:33 PM UTC
When dough is in short supply,
puddings get nervous, I wonder why?
They tell their parrots to take to the air,
to see if there's more hidden anywhere.
One flew out to the north Atlantic
his efforts brave and quite fantastic.
The dough of Icelands polar bears
was safely stored and waiting there.
One parrot flew to the Snow Queens wedding
for dough, and to try his wing at sledding.
He was so tired when he took his dough to the station,
he was forced to use his powers of multi - placation
for the guards were nasty and horrid and grumpy
and almost turned the dough all lumpy.
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 6:16 AM UTC
White
Coming down in soft flakes,
Melting on my toung
Beautiful for such a short time.
Floating down blissfully
Waiting to land,
Landing,
Softly being crushed under my boots.
As I walk up the hill to go sledding.
As I zip down the hill,
Snow getting in my eyes,
My cheeks red and burning,
Being cut by a million tiny knifes.
Going over a jump and,
"catching air"
The wind is knocked out of me as I land
Reaching the bottom,
Disipointment at how short the ride is.
Going inside to sit on the couch eating popcorn and drinking cocoa.
Watching to snow flutter down out side.
Thinking about what it is like,
To be a snowflake.
To be created high uo in the clouds,
A beautiful piece of ice crystle.
To small to be marveled at
Only to float blissfully to the ground,
To be crumpled up by a boot.
On its way up a hill to sled.
To be flattend by a sled,
As it zooms down the hill,
Hitting a bump and flying into the air,
To flatten may more of us.
What would it be like to be a snow flake?
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 7:27 PM UTC