For an Earth-Landing
the sky sinks its blue teeth
into the mountains.
Rising on pure will
(the lurch & lift-off,
the sudden swing
into wide, white snow),
I encourage the cable.
Past the wind
& crossed tips of my skis
& the mauve shadows of pines
& the spoor of bears
& deer,
I speak to my fear,
rising, riding,
finding myself
the only thing
between snow & sky,
the link
that holds it all together.
Halfway up the wire,
we stop,
slide back a little
(a whirr of pulleys).
Astronauts circle above us today
in the television blue of space.
But the thin withers of alps
are waiting to take us too,
& this might be the moon!
We move!
Friends, this is a toy
merely for reaching mountains
merely
for skiing down.
& now we're dangling
like charms on the same bracelet
or upsidedown tightrope people
(a colossal circus!)
or absurd winged walkers,
angels in animal fur,
with mittened hands waving
& fear turning
& the mountain
like a fisherman,
reeling us all in.
So we land
on the windy peak,
touch skis to snow,
are married to our purple shadows,
& ski back down
to the unimaginable valley
leaving no footprints.
poem by Erica Jong
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Related quotes
The Color Of Snow
For David Karetsky (April 14, 1940-March 12, 1991) , killed in an avalanche
Putting the skis down
in the white snow,
the wind singing,
the blizzard of time
going past your eyes,
it is a little
like being snowed in
in the Connecticut house
on a day when the world
goes away
and only the white dog
follows you out
to make fresh tracks
in the long blue shadow
of the mountain.
We are all halfway there,
preferring not
to think about it.
You went down the mountain
first,
in a blaze of light,
reminding us
to seize our lives,
to live with the wind
whistling in our ears,
and the light bedazzling
the tips of our skis
and the people we love
waiting in the lodge below
scribbling lines
on paper the color
of snow,
knowing there is no
holding on
but only the wind singing
and these lines of light
shining
in the fresh snow.
poem by Erica Jong
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Song Of The Evergreens
Listen to the briskly whistling winter evergreen
Whispering through the frozen morning light
And tell me whats to come
Saying my time is near
Never fear
I close each year
Im winter
Reminding me to trade my t-shirts for my woven wools
Trade my sandals for my skis
Whispered warnings in the wind
Saying soon come the dancing snowflakes
Theyre kissing every tree
Theyre kissing you and me
Please hurry
Falling
Dazzling dancing diamonds from the sky
Prisms
Rainbow sparkled flurries in our eyes
Whipping across the frozen crystal meadow
Pond of ice
Race the snow
Well build a warming fire there
And cuddle close and wine and dine
The setting sun
The morning light will find us high
Shooting down the glistening mountain side
Screaming through the whispering pines
The freedom of each day
Will cleanse our minds
I can hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
I can hardly hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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day dreaming while skiing XD
the wind blows in the snow
like a sea but with its own flow
the sun is rising
the clouds are crying
not rain, not flakes of snow
more like leafs of snow
when it lands it stays like seaweed: straight
they dance with the wind like a first date
when your skis embrace
this dance, you feel like floating in space
nothing can pull you back down
like weed you have left the ground
you're flying way high in the sky
till one day... you die
poem by Nicolas Thomas
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Skiing
Why is it I can't ski?
When all that my instructor keeps saying is ‘benz za knees'
I ‘benz za knees' I hold my poles
Hoping this will help me go faster and not slow
Now the only thing that worries me that I know
Are my skis do not go where I want them to go
My knees are bent, I'm in the groove
I try to turn but the skis don't move
As I hold my breath I imagine what happens next
Either I go round this bend or crash and break my neck
Somehow I make it with just a snow flake to spare
Now I can breathe again - the fresh mountain air
But no sooner had I drawn my breath and unclenched my teeth
I notice my skis are far too wide underneath
With my eyes bouncing up and down like demented fleas
I try to focus but my mind feels as though it has turned to cheese
It's not looking good I must say
Compared to this morning I thought it'll turn out to be a perfect day
Not so - and here it must end
Did I make it or go straight and miss the bend?
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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Forgetting The Moon
i invite you
to sit upon a hill
under the acacia tree
to view the moon
it is full tonight
rising from the shadows of
the mountains
i hold your hand
and your long hair
touches my shoulder
we sit tonight
silently admiring the moon rising
from the shadows of the mountains
i gaze upon your eyes
and we kiss under the cool shade
of the acacia trees
after that night
i lay upon my bed inside my room
still thinking about you
and that kiss
i have forgotten about the full moon
rising from the shadows of the mountains
i am the poet
who first scribbles the most beautiful poem about you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Waiting For the Snow
Waiting for the Snow
When the leaves turn golden
And the geese fly south
Where will I be?
When the wind turns cold
And the bear is in hiding
Where will I be?
When the streams are frozen
And the rabbits’ color turning
Where will I be?
When the leaves begin to fall
And the northern cardinals stay
Where will I be?
When the nuts fall down
And squirrels store walnuts
Where will I be?
When the corn is harvested
And the deer seek shelter
Where will I be?
When the grass is brown
And the pheasants are flying
Where will I be?
I will be riding before the wind
And winging t’ward the sun
Flying from the snow
I will be waiting for spring
And sleeping till then
Hiding from the snow
I will be hiding till I’m white
And searching the ground for food
Waiting for the snow
I will be looking for berries
And singing merrily
Waiting for the snow
I will be saving acorns
And jumping form tree to tree
Waiting for the snow
I will be searching fields for corn
And hiding in thickets
Waiting for the snow
I will be hiding under grass
And calling out loud
Waiting for the snow
Take Our Snow Please
As out the window,
I look, more snow today,
have only one thing to say,
take our snow please.
Six week-ends straight,
snow, snow every where,
have only one thing to say,
take our snow please, today.
So much snow, so much cold,
snow in the streets, snow in the yard,
snow on the car, snow on my shoe,
have only one thing to say,
take our snow please, we don't know what to do.
Winter, oh winter please end,
all of this snow, we don't really want it,
snow falling, flakes dropping
have only one thing to say,
take our snow please, don't delay.
Weather-esque
Wind gusted and
Snow fell.
Flakes blew about this way and that,
Creating a semi-transparent veil of
Frozen precipitation.
Legs trudged through hip-high drifts
While hardened snow crunched underfoot.
Mitten-covered hands clench a hardwood staff
That digs through the layers of snow and
Impales the half-frozen ice underneath.
The wind blows north to south,
Straight into my face.
Two t-shirts, three long sleeves,
A sweater, a jacket, a hooded sweatshirt,
A big puffy coat lined with fur,
A hat and earmuffs,
Two layers of mittens and four layers of socks
With fur-lined, water-proof boots,
Along with two scarves,
And still the wind feels like
Knives are stabbing into my bare skin,
As if my very soul were bared to the tempest.
It howls down from the north into the valley,
Roaring past my ears,
Moving so hard and so fast it’s as if
It’s fleeing from some terrible beast.
The snow flashes brilliantly in the
Dim sunlight,
Blinding me no matter where I look,
Even when my face is down to protect it from the wind.
Layer upon layer gather atop the already
Icy ground—wet snow and fluffy snow,
Icy snow and more wet snow and some more
Fluffy snow again.
Trying to walk through it is like
Trekking through some viscous liquid,
Caramel, perhaps,
Especially going uphill.
Mountains hem in the valley
Like monstrous stone colossi
Gazing over some long-forgotten land.
Their peaks are lost within the white
Storm. What can be seen of the mountains
Are just flinty bases encased in layers of snow.
I finally reach the crest of the hill.
Below me is spread a vast expanse of white.
No details can be made out except for the
Never-ending range of mountains and snow.
Well, here it goes, I think and
Begin to make my descent.
Snow on snow
Snow on snow
Flakes gently falling
Like leaves from a tree
Asking permission
Before they land
On the snowflakes underneath
Each one different
Like leaves on a tree
A white carpet
Pure white till soiled
By children’s shoes
They love its touch
Ooo snowball fights
Snow doesn’t hurt
Snow is soft and forgiving
People hurt
They are selfish and cruel
So let it snow
Snow on snow on
poem by James Hart
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Makarora
Rocky peaks of Makarora in the summer wear their snow
And down the lush green grassy valley the clear mountain river flow
Songbirds piping in the beechwoods songthrush, bellbird and
redpoll
This a place of peace and beauty Makarora has a soul.
These great mountains look no different than to when the first man came
They have a wild rugged beauty for want of a better name
To the coming generations these high peaks will look the same
Man will not build houses on them man such wildness could not tame.
Summer's come to Makarora and along with her brought her green
Beauty to compare with any with the finest I have seen
This place would inspire an artist peaks in summer white
with snow
Beechwoods and through lush green valley sparkling mountain river flow.
Those high peaks of makarora will not change as years go by
Out there on those rugged mountains bones of Maori hunter lie
Still these mountains keep their secrets monarchs of the higher ground
Overlooking Makarora and the woodlands all around
Snow clad peaks of Makarora reaching upwards towards the sky
I am just a passing stranger and I'll be bidding you goodbye
But I will take with me the memories of beauty I have seen
today
Woodlands in a lush green valley by those mountains far away
poem by Francis Duggan
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Late Aubade & Explanation
Once in a field, in a wide rising stretch of paintbrush
& purple vetch, we stuck down
a tent, like punctuation, and drank through the evening
our bottle of bad wine. When you looked up,
the weather was holding: a few breezes,
a full moon silvering the flowers
to white. In the distance, I heard the ache
& slide of snow, the beginning of crickets. It was twilight—
the landscape was lifting.
•
A mountain. The clouds, further up,
came down. A Book of Hours. A tent in which we twisted,
pressed each against the other, drunk
and when I stepped out into the cool
moonlight, there was drifting through the watery
end of the meadow, a deer
pale beneath pines, beneath those soaring
darknessess. Then there was only darkness, the
idea of a deer.
Remember, I never wanted
to be alive, to have
an outline. Better, I knew, to slip
unheld, an opening into mist.
poem by Kate Northrop
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Sestina: Here in Katmandu
We have climbed the mountain.
There's nothing more to do.
It is terrible to come down
To the valley
Where, amidst many flowers,
One thinks of snow,
As formerly, amidst snow,
Climbing the mountain,
One thought of flowers,
Tremulous, ruddy with dew,
In the valley.
One caught their scent coming down.
It is difficult to adjust, once down,
To the absense of snow.
Clear days, from the valley,
One looks up at the mountain.
What else is there to do?
Prayer wheels, flowers!
Let the flowers
Fade, the prayer wheels run down.
What have they to do
With us who have stood atop the snow
Atop the mountain,
Flags seen from the valley?
It might be possible to live in the valley,
To bury oneself among flowers,
If one could forget the mountain,
How, never once looking down,
Stiff, blinded with snow,
One knew what to do.
Meanwhile it is not easy here in Katmandu,
Especially when to the valley
That wind which means snow
Elsewhere, but here means flowers,
Comes down,
As soon it must, from the mountain.
poem by Donald Justice
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My Comrade
Out from my window westward
I turn full oft my face;
But the mountains rebuke the vision
That would encompass space;
They lift their lofty foreheads
To the kiss of the clouds above,
And ask, "With all our glory,
Can we not win your love?"
I answer, "No, oh mountains!
I see that you are grand;
But you have not the breadth and beauty
Of the fields in my own land;
You narrow my range of vision
And you even shut from me
The voice of my old comrade,
The West Wind wild and free."
But to-day I climbed the mountains
On the back of a snow-white steed,
And the West Wind came to greet me--
He flew on the wings of speed.
His charger, and mine that bore me,
Went gaily neck to neck,
Till the town in the valley belkow us
Looked like a small, dark speck.
And oh! what tales he whispered
As he rode there by me,
Of friends whose smiling faces
I am so soon to see.
And the mountains frowned in anger,
Because I balked their spite,
And met my old-time comrade
There on their very height;
But I laughed up in their faces,
As I rode slowly back,
While the Wind went faster and faster,
Like a race-horse on the track.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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We Tried To Paint A Fire In The Snow
Red and orange, yellow
Maybe a touch of blue
Paint the sky with fire
And the snow with a barren hue
Can we catch these shadows with our hands
Or will the dusk refuse to play our game
I think the streetlamps want to breathe awhile
Before we fit them with a starry frame
The people pass and nod their vacant eyes
We paint them with a dash of loneliness
The keys for home sit anchored in their pockets
And all the words are written on their breath
The snow is whiter than the stone I found
That summer day in august at the shore
We said it looked just like a tiny moon
You held it till the daylight closed its door
But now the snow is growing cold as dawn
And all its left is pictures we could paint
That show two lovers with a broken brush
You paint a sky that I describe as faint
Red and orange, yellow
Maybe a touch of blue
I’ve painted love with fire
And the snow with a barren hue
poem by Ben Paynter
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Let the Spring Winds Blow
Who divided the rivers and mountains
Forty-five years ago, hearts were torn, blood flowed
Standing and waiting, turning to stone looking at my homeland
The cries of anguish are no longer heard No fertile land for the trees to grow, no water to float the ships
No flight in the sky, where did it go
Known long ago, Korea was the rising sun of the East
Everywhere, tall trees, clear waters, blue skies To roam everywhere, to greet everyone
But that was yesterday
Spring comes to other countries, where everyone can travel
But winter snow blocks the path to my homeland Following year to year, people and seasons come and go
I am waiting, why are the spring winds not blowing
Winter is long and cold but spring must come
The seeds are waiting to bloom Spring has arrived, let us join hands
Let us plant trees on the mountains
Let us sail our ships on the rivers
Let us fly far into the sky
poem by Michael I. Byun
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Blue Moon Rising
(whispered: some people like that
Some people like that
Some people like that)
Come on all my people, come one and all, one and all
If you want all your people right there right then
Your better ladys dead and theyre appalled
And theyre appalled
Come into my palace, come and see my hollow walls
The servants crawl
Its gonna be a blue moon rising, rising one and all
Some people like that
Gonna get them with your money, all that shines gets polished bald
Could not enthral
Gonna get them like a tweedledee or a tweedledum
The classiest sales pitch aint an equal sum
It aint gonna be fun
Come into my dreamworld, a simple smile not a loaded gun
Just a shine in the sun
Its gonna be a blue moon rising, rising one and all, all alone
Some people like that
Some people like that
Some people like that
Then some people are like children in the moonlight, aa-ooh
Then some people are like children in the moonlight, aa-ooh
Then some people are like children in the moonlight, aa-ooh
Then some people are like children in the moonlight, aa-ooh
Its gonna be a blue moon rising, rising one and all, one and all
Its gonna be a blue moon rising, rising one and all
Some people like that
Some people like that
Some people like that (repeat to end)
(ben: blue moon rising
Blue moon rising)
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boy Blue
Hey boy blue, cant you hear all the noise, its for you.
All the towns waiting there, let us go.
Theres a show like you aint seen before.
Weclome home, where you been all these years, look around.
All the crowd is in tears,
Its so good to see you in the streets of your town
Chorus
Hey boy blue is back.
Hey boy blue is back.
Hey boy blue is back.
Hey boy blue is back.
Hey boy blue is back.
Hey boy blue is back.
Ive seen bold knights, dropping down like flies,
Ive seen kings, rolling in the mire,
Ive seen god, point the finger of doom to our foes.
I have fought in the holiest wars,
I have smashed, some of the holiest jaws.
Ive been jailed, been impaled, and been dragged through the world.
One thing, I have learned through these years,
Is that no man, should be stricken with fear.
It should be that he walks with no care in the world.
So my friends, who are gathered today,
Hear this clear, for Ill not further say.
That no amn, shall cause me to take up arms again.
Hey boy blue is back.
Hey boy blue is back.
Hey boy blue is back.
Hey boy blue is back.
Hey boy blue is back.
Hey boy blue is back.
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nils Finn
Now little Nils Finn had away to go;
The skis were too loose at both heel and toe.
--"That's too bad!" rumbled yonder.
Then little Nils Finn in the snow set his feet:
"You ugliest troll, you shall never me cheat!"
--"Hee-ho-ha!" rumbled yonder.
Nils Finn with his staff beat the snow till it blew
"Your trollship, now saw you how hapless it flew?"
--"Hit-li-hu!" rumbled yonder.
Nils Finn pushed one ski farther forward with might;
The other held fast,--he reeled left and right.
--"Pull it up!" rumbled yonder.
Nils' tears wet the snow, while he kicked and he struck;
The more that he kicked there, the deeper he stuck.
--"That was good!" rumbled yonder.
The birch-trees, they danced, and the pine-trees said "Hoo!"
They more were than one,--were a hundred and two.
--"Know your way?" rumbled yonder.
A laugh shook the ridge till it made the snow fly;
But Nils clenched his fists and he swore 't was a lie.
--"Now beware!" rumbled yonder.
The snow-field yawned wide, and the heavens came low;
Nils thought 't was now time for him also to go.
--"Is he gone?" rumbled yonder.--
Two skis in the snow looked about everywhere,
But saw nothing much; for there was nothing there.
--"Where is Nils?" rumbled yonder.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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O! Canada
our culture?
snow.
a canadian?
sun.
a big empty place
with tons of space
blue & white mountains
forest greens fields gold
friendly heart
crossed with shield
poem by Doug Bentley
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An Aura about the Sun
There is an aura about the sun
On this late winter's day as
Snow falls from castles in the sky-
Invisible clouds shall not obliterate the sun-
In my most startled moment,
I would look down from
My stance upon a purple mountain peak-
Purple transforms to magenta as
A ray of hope shines
Downward and mysteriously about-
I see reflections of copper- hued branches in the creek below-
Upon trees seemingly awakening from a passionate night amidst the darkness-
In the bitter coldness of the season's end-
Branches so like arms reaching towards the sky-
Decorated with snow and bending in the wind as
Would ballerina dancers upon a stage of oblivion-
Not knowing what the next moment in time shall bring?
There is an aura about the sun and
The snow keeps falling-
Crocuses trying to hide their blossoms from the late winter's chill-
Yesterday the sun rose and cast its shadows about the mountainsides-
Purple mountains and magenta reflections in the creek in all of its
Crystalline clarity have never looked so striking
Even stones polished by rushing water rapids- and grasses sparkle in the dew-
I have found my place in this world so vast, and so majestic- yet so ethereal,
Alone with the trees and nowhere to hide-
No need to hide because I have escaped reality-
In the real world mountains have never been purple-hued and
Reflections never magenta-crocuses never emerge and blossom on
A cold winder's twilight-
There is an aura about the sun and I listen to the voices
Chanting baritone melodies inside the fortress of my mind-
Others may say that this is none but a delusion, although
I do not recognize their disparagement -
I have lost myself in a world of fearlessness and
I find nothing intimidating in this land of my dreams-
It has been said that dreams often never come true but
I have carried my dreams inside of my mind to the peak of
Purple mountains glowing beneath the moon at midnight and
The sun as it rises at daybreak- nobody shall unlock the door to my madness
My dream has come true and I shall never escape-
I have painted a picture inside of my mind and here in my solitude
I have escaped the pain of veracity as
I chant my own special melodies, though in silence.
There is an aura about the sun and I am proud to say it shines light
Upon the essence of my dreams, illuminating a path before me
Upon which I can walk -I can walk further and further from all that threatens-
Where there is no place to hide and no need to hide
As the snow keeps falling from invisible clouds and
Fantasy has never appeared so magnificently regal….
poem by Claudia Krizay
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