skiing

Learn more about other poetry terms

Skiing down the steep slopes twisting and turning then skidding to a stop sending up an arc of frosty flakes Beginners follow like ducklings Pizza slices ridging up the snow
Don’t do it! Don’t you dare look below. The glaring, blinding white of the snow. Stop. Take it easy. Breathe in then out. Slow down a minute, just find a new route.  
Skiing is good, have you ever been? I have since I was only three. I've missed some years, since those hills I've seen. It makes me the happiest I'll ever be.  
I must go back to hills again, to cold and snow and sky And all ask is a pair of skis and poles to balance by And cold that stings and wind that blows and white that hurts the eye
Subscribe to skiing