In
cosmic
wilderness
icy rings swirl
with frozen rock dust
in thin ribbons on flight
in solar system unique,
around the sleeping Saturn far,
as it’s leftover wandering waste,
making the breathtaking celestial rinks
where I as cosmonaut shall one day glide,
skate upon the congealed space tracks vast
in freedom of weightless milieu,
whirl charmed in galactic glow.
As the stardust swathes me
I’ll take spiral turns,
primal silence
will flood me
in false
dream.
Watching the Winter Olympics from afar
I wish I were an ice-skating star
To soar and twirl, leap up to the sky ~
in empty indoor rinks in July
Hooray!
Wet grassy feet fill my soccer cleats.
Hot sweaty teens run fast track meets.
She skis down sugary mountain tops.
He begs his coach to play shortstop.
Footballs, field goals, fumbles.
Touchdowns, tackles, tumbles.
My mother keeps warm with hot brown drinks,
as I learn to skate on chilly rinks.
A sadly splintered hockey stick, from a two-quick hat trick.
A winning catch is cradled in a well-loved mitt.
Tiger wins with a hole in one.
Miniature golf is much more fun.
Double dribble the whistle blows.
Excitement on the court grows!
Busy balls dunked in their hoops.
"Hooray" the three cheers for the ALLEY -OOP!
W I N T E R
B R E A K S
N A T U R E
A W A K E S
G A R D E N
A S L E E P
&
an oldie reposted
Fields flooded into skating rinks
into which each footstep sinks,
cracking under body weight so
not the best place to skate.
Thawing February of twitching noses
in tussocks of woken primroses.
Rummaging on hazel boles,hibernating mammals
poke from the holes.
Leafless hedgerows , buds now form
a carpet of white corm,
Badgers forage food near their sett
renewing the bracken scented couchette.
Nature pair off in twos
lengthening days come into view.
aconite open in rays of sun
below, yellow catkins tails fine spun.
Osier shoots in green corn camomile
early Spring mornings begin to smile.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
Mothers sit and wait a great deal of their lives
At dance recitals
At softball games
At skating rinks
Mothers sit and wait a great deal of their lives
Outside school buildings
Outside churches
Outside art studios
Mothers sit and wait a great deal of their lives
for some fathers to wise up
for some fathers to return
for some fathers to take their turns sitting and waiting
EULOGY
--MERAKI
I lie here, content
No, not endorsing a life of zest
Or days of melancholy
I lie here at ease,
For now there's respite
And I no more need to maneuver
The graceless rinks of maturity
I've had my share of happiness
And equal blows of fate
Pits and heaps, Tides and Ebb
At times assailant, at times bait.
In short, I was a butterfly,
Only with a twisted life cycle.
In triumph, I fluttered (butterfly),
In troubles, I idled (larva).
Adversity was never my complain
But I prefer it self-inflicted.
Coz I'm OK to reap what I sow
The brunt of another doer? not accepted!
Have you ever thought of it this way?
There's freedom in that too.
Strange as it may sound, it's quite true.
So don't come to my grave
To find a lifting eulogy.
My deeds are in my psyche alone
I seek no approval, no apology
So come to my tomb, make your own conclusion
That's my parting gift to you :)
Judge me all you want, I'll make no intrusion.
You see, there's freedom in that too!
Spinning icy rinks or cropless circles Does nature's beauty need an answer Ballerinas express as brooks burble Ancient songs to these eloquent dancers spiraling essence of the nonverbal’s Parasols parade question’s reversal
The world is snowy white on a Sunday,
You can see the church steeples,
Parents and children are off to church on Sunday,
You can see prints in the snow,
Reindeer wander freely and are being fed,
Skiers ski the mountains and trails,
The ponds are frozen and make good skating rinks,
There is something special about a winter Sunday,
The snowman winks at you when you walk past,
The great ice skaters bless us with their friendship,
A walk on a winter's day,
The beauty of winter is everywhere,
The freshly fallen snow touches the rooftops of the houses,
Snow weighs heavily on the branches of the blue spruce,
God's Christmas winter postcard..
Author:Gwen von Erlach Schutz
Twenty cases of logs in a jar of jam is a must for a lobsTer building a raft. As crafting willow bark takes time so comforted them sea creatures are then admiring the vast array of jam jars with their googly eyes. Yet if a pickle could race an elephant and a donkey then secretion would fall creating vast skating rinks. Oh how simply delightful to jam trade deals in effortless weaves. Webs on websites then. Deficit dressed at a fancy dress ball as a balloon. Twenty cases of logs in a jar of jam is a must for a lobsTer building a raft. As crafting willow bark takes time so comforted them sea creatures are then admiring the vast array of jam jars with their googly eyes. Yet if a pickle could race an elephant and a donkey then secretion would fall creating vast skating rinks. Oh how simply delightful to jam trade deals in effortless weaves. Webs on websites then. Deficit dressed at a fancy dress ball as a balloon.
Twenty cases of logs in a jar of jam is a must for a lobsTer building a raft. As crafting willow bark takes time so comforted them sea creatures are then admiring the vast array of jam jars with their googly eyes. Yet if a pickle could race an elephant and a donkey then secretion would fall creating vast skating rinks. Oh how simply delightful to jam trade deals in effortless weaves. Webs on websites then. Deficit dressed at a fancy dress ball as a balloon.
Time clock,
Baby
Stuck on the inside
out on the black bench,
Baby.
Never going back like the good old days
like the jinxed rinks, cut out
like watersheds.
It’s so obvious,
Baby.
That you want the top shelf
honey, lookin’ like a million bucks.
Those rose pedals for the first time
love, in the attic up top,
Baby.
For the first time, overlook the city
with a new clock.
For hours we sat unlocked,
waiting for the Sun to show up.
When snow starts falling in Canada
We know winter games shall begin.
Do we just sit around fireplaces?
No, that would be a sin.
Snowball fights daily in our schoolyards,
Till the bell calls them in.
Rosie red cheeks on children,
Mittens with scarf’s and hats,
Snowmen in every front yard,
Put away are the bats.
Indoors a haven for cats.
Ski’s out and waxed,
Skates sharp as knives,
Skating rinks are full
Of children, husband, wives.
Tobogganing so exiting,
Curling extremely fun,
Hockey, number one.
Cold feet,
Hot chocolate.
Winter.
10.14.2014
Andrea Dietrich’s Contest
I do not Know
7th
To the most ardent fans, this year has been hell.
There are plenty of idle hockey rinks throughout the NHL.
With season ticket holders, this has not been nice.
They want to see their favorite players roughhousing on the ice.
The team owners have been staging a lockout.
Will there be hockey games this year? There is increasing doubt.
In the National Hockey League, nothing is coming up roses.
No players have been losing teeth or getting broken noses.
Nobody is slap shooting that hard rubber hockey puck.
We want to see the games played, but we are out of luck.
We are stuck with watching basketball games around here.
Perhaps both sides will come to terms and play hockey next year.
The Arctic Fire Bugs
Ice nights are the playpen
For the kids born to this land
Skating rinks and bowling shoes
Never touched a hand
Or foot that kicked at blocks of ice
As thick as you are tall
They scoff at jackets toss their hats
While through the drifts they crawl
Gather wood and getting high by tearing limbs from trees
Boozing up to get a buzz in temperatures that freeze
Building up a bonfire that will signal all their friends
Friday night is party night till sirens scream the end
Now it comes the fun part when they run from chasing cops
Scatter all directions and ignoring calls for “stop”--
Game they play that irritates and costs the city bucks--
What else is there to do unless they steal the fire trucks?
Note: In Alaska outback, bonfire is the key meeting place for teens--this poem is based on my teen son and his mode of fun in Valdez, Alaska--350+ miles from the next city--a town at the end of a long road (the Richardson Highway) with only one town tat the edge of the Bering Sea (often called North Sea).
Fire and Ice Contest
November 27, 2012
Victoria Anderson-Throop
*SNOW WHITE*
ANOTHER
BURRRR! BLIZZARD
COMING
DECEMBER
ESKIMO
FREEZING FORECAST
GHOST-GROUNDS'
HEAVY
ICICLES
JITTERS
KIMONO
LOW-HEAT
MAKING-COCA
NAPPING
OASIS
POWDERY
QUILTS
RESTING
SHIVERING
TURNING TO LOVER
UNDER-COVER
VIXEN-HEAT
WINTER-WINDOWS
XOXOXO's
YAWNING
ZZzzzzz!
*COLD AS ICE*
Zambonice-ing Your X-winter Whiting-rinks, Visible & Unusual Tough Snow-flurry, Racing Quietly Precipitation, Overflows, Nightfall, Mocking Like-little Keys Jiggling, Inside Hailstorm, Getting Frigid, Every-second, Drifting Clouds, Building ANGER!
by;PD
for: ABC contest
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