Best Skiing Poems
Jet skiing - it's all the fun of water skiing with none of the exertion!
Written for One Liner 4 Poetry Contest of Silent One
The Dachshund’s a marvel on skis
Little legs that stop short of its knees
It can schuss like a pro
Making furrows in snow
(Though its privates are given to freeze)
~Water Skiing,Tribute to Maggie~
Ah, indeed a summer teenage delight!
My Cousin Maggie assured me, would
make a water skier of me.
Ah, my young heart lost all frightening
premontions and took a soaring flight.
I sat on the pier, she threw me the
dauntful handle and rope.
Fear seized me, realizing the moment
to ski was indeed, here!
Her husband, Jim, was captain of
the speed boat and cheered!
It was time for me to move my
trembling, young rear!
I stood up and was on my way,
Woo-hoo and hip-hip-hooray!
At last, I was like everyone else.
Ecstatic with the water and the
speedboat as it propelled!
Alas, glory and triumph divine,
were not to be mine.
For I fell forward on my face!
And with silly pride, still held
onto the rope.
Dragged through Lake Como,
Me ~"Dope on a Rope!"
My Cousin Maggie, yelling loudly:
"Let Go! Let Go!"
I must have been in stupefaction!
Like a languid teenage halibut, I
let go of that rope.
But nonetheless,bobbing up and
down in great, jubilant summer
most memorable, satisfaction!
August 26, 2019
1:30pm PST
S kiing on this snowy peak over the icy stretches is a real tes T,
K eeping legs on the skis securely firm and standing hig H.
I tching to experience the adventure of my endeavou R,
I go down hills in rising vigor, never losing grip, shouting ‘h I’
N ot shaken by the steep landing with wind giving me a chilling fee L,
G aily I speed down the icy slopes in triumphant thril L.
Snow
Drifting
Over
Gliding skis
quietly
steeper ever
rapidly as
vast palace frozen
joy our young spirits
white mountainside
dreaming hearts free
our playground
majestic
slope deep
silent
white
Reverse: white silent deep slope majestic playground our free hearts dreaming mountainside white spirits young our joy frozen palace vast as rapidly ever steeper quietly gliding skis over drifting snow
8/7/16
For contest: Backwards Poem
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Syllables confirmed at howmanysyllables.com
Wally Weasel Goes Skiing
Wally still loves painting, but he’s now discovered sports.
He made his reservations at a faraway resort.
He’s never skied but has a book with lessons showing how.
After reading it two times plus one, he thinks he’s ready now.
With wooly scarf around his neck and hat upon his head,
he picks up shiny skis and poles that lay upon the bed.
Heading out to hit the slopes, he stops - ‘cause he’s decided
to wear his wooly socks so that his toes won’t get frost-bited.
He puts his ski poles in the snow and gives a great big push,
but all his effort got him was a wet, snow-covered tush.
Brushing off to go again, he says he will not quit.
This time he flies right down the slope – yes! All two feet of it.
He did it! He’s a skier now, and feeling very proud,
but that’s before he hears the laughter coming from the crowd.
It takes a lot of practice, as our little Wally knows,
and he’ll keep right on trying ‘til his weasel nose is froze.
With bended knees, he leans a little. This time he will do it.
When he starts to fly downhill, he says, “There’s nothing to it.”
He turns this way, then turns that way, he’s graceful as a breeze.
He’s being very careful to not run into the trees.
With all the other things he’s learned, he now feels life’s complete.
He’s shown the world that weasels, too, can be good athletes.
We’ll visit him another time and hear his tales of glory.
For now, we’ll have to wait. Another time, another story.
waxed skis glide smoothly
tracks on fresh, crisp, moonlit snow
frozen woodland sounds
Downhill Skiing and Sledding
He had always found Hillary hard to face
Which is why Bernie runs all over the place
And he really never got to know her
Started sinking to depths that are lower.
Worse things ever he often had applied
Saying how Hillary was not qualified
She started crying and is now bawling
Bernie's platform needs some overhauling.
What to me I find to be the most amusing
Numbers he mishandles and is misusing
Started realizing he was not in the know
Saying forty score and seven years ago.
After read threw some history pages
That would have put us in the Dark Ages
He seems to be in and also way out far
And to his enlistment received a bar.
He never had passed the bar before
Hasn't figured out how to keep score
Can't downhill ski but is only sledding
Which is where he is always heading.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
Granny jumps on the jet ski and glides
over the bumpy waves she does ride
she heads toward flat ground
as her flab flops around
the poor old granny has lost her pride.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Dec.10/2004
Let’s go skiing ! Said my wife
It gives you such a thrill
So off we flew to Canada
To face the bitter chill
We took a bus from Calgary
To Banff’s National park
Found our hotel, went to bed
To get up with the lark
I brought a bright red jacket
My mate Stuart let me borrow
I thought at least I’ll look the part
When I hit the slopes tomorrow….
In the bright blue morning
I went to hire some skis
And boots that felt like concrete
I could hardly bend my knees
The minibus dropped us off
By a mud stained snowy drift
My wife said “ I’ll get the passes”
Just go meet me by the lift “
A group of red faced skiers
Were gathering in a throng
To sit on a revolving seat
That didn’t stop to let you on.
“I cannot get on that” I said
As I stared in disbelief
With slats of wood upon my feet
I knew I’d come to grief
“Come on Mike” my dear wife said,
You’ll be fine once you get on
So I stood as was directed
Then “whoosh” and I was gone
Hands gripped round the safety bar
As we rocked on metal ropes
Thinking “how will I get off this thing
When we reach the nursery slopes ? “
The chair in front began to slow
I heard their bar go “clunk”
They deftly skied away with ease
While I prepared to flunk
I ejected from my seat
To a ramp of icy snow
I soon was sliding on my back
With both legs akimbo.
Sailing down the green runs
My instructor in a strop
Kept telling me to slow down
But I didn’t know how to stop
I saw some awesome sights
I learnt the “pizza” wedge
I heard a muffled scream
When a friend slid of the edge
I lasted just three days
Till we skied toward lake Louise
I handed in my ski poles
When I couldn’t feel my knees
Time to sample “Apres Ski”
In my warm, hotel retreat
Dipping bread in fondue
Was much more up my street
While My wife “carved the powder”
Meandering with such skill,
I rubbed ointment on my kneecaps
And took a pain reducing pill.
I would not trade these memories
I will treasure them for life
I am not built to be a skier
But thank you my dear wife !
Knocking down trees with your face
Describes skiing so I play Checkers in place
Coz the worst that can happen
Your opponent gets mad and
Pulls out a gun and you are erased
SKIING
Our skis sing softly all along
The snowy trail, and in among
The tall straight pines where we belong:
The silence echoes to our song.
Almost silent, the hill is fast;
Blows a kiss as we whisper past.
Ahead - the sloping whiteness vast.
O Never end! And always last.
Skiing Is…
Skiing is…
Alpine thrill ride on four inch boards
Boggy in the bumps – a schuss to the lodge
Carving a turn leaving icy rooster tails in the air
Drag lift to ride on thick moving ropes
Skiing is…
Extreme black diamond runs on endless terrain
Flat hills of green for bunny slopes
Googles of amber for blizzards or flat light
Hardpack and boiler-plate; blue ice and corn snow
Skiing is…
Into the heart of pure mountain splendor
Jet sticks on snowfields under blazing blue skies
Keeping upright avoiding face plants
Lift lines of frustration at chair lifts and gondolas
Skiing is…
Moguls that hide crafty snow snakes
Nordic dance of short swings in fresh powder
Outside skis with a mind of their own
Powder hounds piggin’ through aspen trees
Skiing is…
Quick turns called weidlin from Austrian lore
Runs of legend like K-2 and Exhibition, Wild Child, The Plunge
Sitzmarks the size of a lunar crater
Telemark turns on frosty cross-country trails
Skiing is…
Under the smile of the crystal solstice
Vertical drops into wide open bowls
Weighting unweighting parallel turns
Experts and bunnies apres ski with tall tales
Skiing is…
Yards sales of googles, poles, hats and lost skis
Zest for taking your life in your hands!
2-28-23
Slippery hills in this snowy week
Knees bent; more speed needs a tweak.
I’ll snowplow, turn skis stop in stance
In and out like an ice-ballet dance,
No turning back on a bunny slope!
Gripping tightly up-hill to the tow rope.
Rapidly down the mountainside,
The pure powdery snow spraying!
Nearer to vast sapphire skies,
And long ere a perplexed purple.
Bracing winds travel from afar,
And carelessly tousle the hair,
Long after the mists of orange,
In the treasured golden noon,
On the other side of the moon!
Enormous speeds are attained,
As wild laughter is trailing,
Like a first trip on ocean blue,
And the view from the railing.
Side to side in and out of trees,
Snow sprinkled, sunlit emeralds.
This could be the meaning of free,
Racing the wind no cares behind me!