Best Sleds Poems
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cold, but
sun’s bright
season’s
grand sight
pure snow
gleaming
thrilled kids
screaming
snowballs
soaring
day’s not
boring
sleds are
gliding
grandma’s
riding!
snowmen
makers
cookie
bakers
cocoa
mixers
supper
fixers
great day
near-gone
“Good night,”
all yawn
December 6, 2022
placed 5th in a Brian Strand Contest
Of course on this night we are supposed to be asleep so Santa
could come, but we hadn't been home from Midnight Mass very long, and the
invigorating cold was not conducive to sleep. Even the hot chocolate did not do
much to help sedate the excitement.
We were hoping for sleds that year. The snow was perfect for
sledding especially like we did it. We tied out sleds on behind the car or pick up
and were pulled through the hills. We got our sleds. My dad and my uncle made
them for us.
No television and only in the late years were we allowed to use the
radio. Batteries were to expensive for frivolous use. We spent many hours
playing cards or games.
I took time out and went to high school and college and got my
teaching certificate.
My aunt taught there only one year after the Federal Government
turned the schools over to the local government.
The last time I was back there the out buildings had been moved and
Indian families were living in them. The school was dirty and unkept.
Now the school is gone. The ancestors who once walked these
dusty plains are gone. The Indians who were there when I was a child are gone.
They are Ghosts. Ghosts whose faces can be seen in the clouds.
Ghosts who still chop wood on those sub zero nights. And the drums we heard
in the middle of the nights are still beating. They beat as strongly as the heart
beats in a healthy body. The laughter of the children still echoes under the
bridge.
The life blood of a culture, of a nation grows thin. The Battle of
Wounded Knee was the last battle to be fought between the white man and the
Indian on the northern plains. It's cries still echo across the land.
My foot prints in the creek did not last any longer than those they left
in the dust. But in my memories, this mile and a half by three quarter mile haven
still lives. And will live forever as a piece of unrecorded history.
Sunshine turned to cold sleet
Palm trees froze in place
Tourists walked down white streets.
to shop for hats and boots
Beach boys left the beaches;
Surfboards were turned to sleds.
Rather than surfing waves
they slid down Diamond Head.
No more graceful hula;
grass skirts became passé.
Dressed in lederhosen,
slap-polka was the rage.
Don Ho found a new song
to thrill his many fans
‘Tiny toddies,’ every-
one, makes us all feel warm.
Suzanne Delaney
We raced on our sleds down hills of snow
and skated on ice as winds would blow.
How lovely it was; how crisp and clear!
A season so special was Christmas one year
Gift-gifting with those I was able to meet
at our big reunion. What a treat
to have all of my relatives near.
We feasted with Yuletide joy that year.
A big talent show our small church had.
Sweet goodies made all us children so glad.
Later we whispered in Santa's ear
things that we wanted for Christmas that year.
Mom had us string popcorn on the tree.
It was a new thing for our family.
Laughing and talking filled me with cheer.
Togetherness reigned in that special year.
The night before Christmas - so hard to sleep!
Like souvenirs are memories I keep
of my Christmas day with family dear.
The best Christmas ever was that one year.
(Some of these things happened every Christmas for me, but I recall one year in particular when all of these things occurred. I think I was around 10!)
for A Christmas Gift Memory Poetry Contest
Sponsor: BJ Legros Kelley
Boys carry their snow sleds
up, up
to the highest peak
scaling risk
their voices pitched
chattering noise of expectation
frozen giddiness on snow packed hills
boys belly flop onto plastic sleighs
bubble-headed jauntiness launches them
lunging down, down
bewildering "swish" of speed
smashing white drifts
projectiles scattered
boys tossed in snowbanks like pizza dough spinning
baked together in joy
pushing the balance of extreme
runs repeated
brash, blunt, bold
epic span of freedom
ignoring downfalls from ill timed moves
in a lost sense of direction
gleefully tired
snow flecked
boys wheeze the icy air
make their way home
their talk clotted with bravado
beneath it, the unspoken promise to never tire
of boyhood
in twilight, the slopes gleam
gouged by sled marks
that clear a path for growth
targeted direction
and if boys fall from the path
are there souls
who'll notice?
when ruts threaten
when sleds teeter
in unruly spaces
Poem composed February 2, 2022
Twirling flakes float down blanketing the ground
they give the earth a covering of white,
flakes fall silently, they don’t make a sound
this winter wonderland brings such delight.
Young children awake and rouse from their beds
and they open their curtains with great glee,
a quick breakfast, then they dust down their sleds
and say ‘Mum we’ll return home to eat tea’!
They pull on snow boots and warm winter clothes
and they slide down the glistening white hills,
warm clothing protects small fingers and toes
which are toasty; they don’t feel bitter chills!
I love to see children go out to play
Perhaps they wish it would snow ev’ry day!
9/18/19
He was tired of pneumonia, wanted to get out there and play in the snow. In an hour his pals would be trudging up the sledding hill with their sleds. He had been sick too many days; he was tired of Jell-o, and his mother's voice being too empathetic, and apologetic. He played with the frost on the window. Wondering if anyone would notice if he slipped outside? It would not take him long to get to the top of the hill. Unfortunately, the snow was virginal. If Mom saw the tracks from their house, he would be in big trouble. He noticed for the first time that the tree shadows in the snow were blue. Fascinated, he pushed his nose next to the window, reveling in the icy cold feel of it.
frosted window pane
blue tree shadows on white snow
my nose is ice cold
A snow-splattered,
cheerful red house.
Pine, sparkling white.
A snowman gladly,
proud and robust,
wears red-trimmed black hat,
a long green plaid scarf.
Buttons almost popping
off his pronounced belly.
His arms branch out
as if they are long fingers,
and there rests
a Christmas red cardinal.
Wind-pinched, freckle-faced kid
sweeps in, holding a sled -
done for the day. He’s ready
to make cookies,
just as mom promised.
The inside is warm.
The kid takes off his boots,
gloves, jacket, but not
his smile. Mom kisses
his cold-wet cheek.
He is glad for the warmth.
His pig-tailed sister is waiting
at the table, rolling the dough -
the little bit mama gave her.
They giggle - they will save
a couple cookies for dad,
and a tall glass of milk.
They cut shapes -
trees, sleds, angels
and use leftover dough
for kolaches filled with jelly.
Mom lets the kids
eat them warm from the oven,
but the cookies
must cool and wait
to be buttercream frosted.
Dad will get his cookies
and milk. Bright eyes
watch him. The cardinal
is now perched
on the snowman’s hat.
The snowman
hasn’t moved.
Days go by. The snowman
loses his pouch, buttons
popping off, his carrot nose
on the ground, branches askew.
The bird flew away
a long time ago
and the kids are back
in school.
We purchased a shed for our yard.
To fill it was not very hard -
The sleds and the bikes
And the things no one likes
With a flimsy old lock standing guard.
To mice, it's a winter retreat
And last summer, we thought it was neat
When a fox made her bed
For her kits there instead
Of the groundhog, who left in defeat.
All the shed holds is useless old junk
And this fact gets my spouse in a funk
But it gives us a peek
Of some wildlife unique
And at least we've encountered no skunk!
Tinsel and sparkling green pine tree
Glittering and glowing faces
Handmade items hanging
Lights blinking green and red
Decorations and mistletoe kissing
Snowman's built with sleds sliding
Hot coco by the fire with homemade bread
Turkey cooking with aroma of delight
Carolers cheerfully singing a Christmas tune
Small eyes light up with dreams of toys
Dancing though their heads, wondering
Children tucked in beds with stories told
Sleeping and dreaming of what Santa will bring
Romance looming through the air
Rings are bought at the perfect time
A wedding ring placed in a large present
Mom and Dad in bed exhausted and in debt
Worth it just to see their children's smiles
Presents opened small children playing
Bike ridding and toys making noise while
Pants and shoes lay on the floor
Christmas is over, phew!
The day was brilliant--Sol spreading diamonds in the sky--
When Kathleen and her father faced the slope,
He with trepidation, she with hope.
They scanned the rise and watched like country rubes
As sliders paused atop the run,
Then hurtled down on sleds and tubes,
Jinking, jerking, shouting, screaming;
It promised so much fun.
“Let’s go,” Dad said, and led the way uphill,
Both eager at the crest to test their skill.
One time, then two, they shot down icy trails
And raced like yachts with open-ocean sails.
And then it happened!
On Father’s third and final try
His sled upended—not down low, but high!
The lookers gasped, their mouths and eyes gaped wide.
Newtonian physics could not be denied,
So Daddy (in slow motion, thus it seemed
To Kathleen, like a nightmare being dreamed)
Oofed softly as he tumbled down the grade
And came to rest a jumble, limbs all splayed.
They left the field soon after, heads held high;
Drove home in silence ‘neath the dark’ning sky;
Ate supper, talked, and do what people do on wintry eves.
Much later in the night as Kathleen slept the sleep of youth,
Dad rose and hobbled to the tub.
And while he soaked he weighed a truth,
The nub:
At 48 it’s all downhill; ‘nough said;
Just don’t complete the journey on your head.
There's something truly magic, when snowflakes start to fly.
A fairyland of wonderous white, beneath a clear, cold sky.
I enjoy looking at the leafless trees, standing there so bare.
I also love the evergreens, which are also standing there.
The world is white and silent, draped in pure white snow.
It's a lovely winter wonderland, everywhere you go!
A mild north wind is blowing, snow comes swirling down.
It creates a feathery blanket, which covers up the ground.
Walkers footsteps are quickly hidden, by the freshly fallen snow.
Kids are out with friends on sleds, their faces all aglow.
Sounds of the season all seem new, with the crunch of boots on the ground.
There's so much to see in the great outdoors, when winter comes around.
Ralph Taylor
A Winter Couplet
Winter Scenery
There’s a little known fact about the North Pole.
Now Santa’s a Dragon, you really should know.
Now think about this and it will become clear.
Santa, like Dragons, is so very magical my dear.
In the very least, Santa has to be… at least partly so.
He’s just a SNOW Dragon, now wouldn’t you know?
He only comes south… in the deepest of wintertime.
And he brings along the snow for good girls and boys.
Now, I wouldn’t lie! I know… that honestly, it’s true!
I call him the Solstice Santa; for he brings winter, its true!
Think! Who brings those sleds when you’re snug in bed?
It’s the Dragon reindeer… Who can fly, high thru the air!
Now, think my dear friend… and you will know that it’s so.
Who loves havoc more, than a mischievous Dragon’s soul?
How come there’s always snow, as they land on your roof?
Because Snow Dragons can breath snow… Lickety Split!
And Dragons love fun… so here come all those Great toys.
Yep, they, too, were made by mischievous, DRAGON guys!
And just where, do you think, my Dragon egg came from?
Grandpa Troll came south, with it, yep, from the North Pole!
When Dragon is grown… Where do you think he wants to go?
Naturally, first North, to visit Dragon Santa, at the North pole.
Gee, the world is spinning, and Grandpa Troll is laughing, too!
No! Say it isn’t true! Grandpa Troll? Did you spike the eggnog?
Again this year? Well, it WAS a beautiful dream… That’s true!
And Merry Christmas, out there, to all you wonderful, You’s!!
Written 12-8-2014 by Carol Eastman It's Iambic something...
Don't know iambic what... Can you guys help me here? What would
you call it?
unconscious he lies
near playground laden with snow
struck by fallen branch
The first blizzard of the season lasted a day and a half! Snow is piled up three feet high and schools and offices are closed. The power lines are down due to high winds and ice- not unusual here on the east coast this time of year. Snow drifts hug the window panes and tiny faces peer through, eager to go outdoors. They're excited to see the first major snow fall. All they see is the beauty. They could not know how deceptive it is. I, along with the neighbors spend the afternoon cleaning cars; clearing walkways of snow and ice, along with fallen branches. Later the kids bring out their sleds which they’d already taken out of storage and loud screeching and laughter ensue. I'm keeping busy helping to build snowmen and dodging snowballs then slowly, my anxiety begins to fade like the high winds that deposit these fantasy gardens. However, that was only temporary. Time for a while seems to past swiftly for me; still,Jim hasn’t returned home nor has he called. Calls to his cell phone are unanswered. No one has heard from him. Friends suggest he must be taking the back roads. They head out to search, while I can do is pace, make hot chocolate and call to hospitals
~*~
01/25/13