Welcome to day nine of the Winter Writing Challenge! Are you ready to get those creative juices flowing? All of your submissions yesterday were so fun. Let’s see what you come up with today!
Here’s your next prompt!
Write a poem about ice skating alone.
Think you’re up for the challenge? We can’t wait to see what sort of poem you guys come up with.
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Before you start writing, we have some important rules for you to follow.
Writing Rules
1. Please keep the content of the poems and vignettes you post to a PG rating. Please avoid real curse words. Violence/fighting should be limited and purposeful. Please do not include any spice.
2. Have fun!
Remember to scroll all the way to the bottom of the page and post your poem as an “answer” to this question. 🙂
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Happy Writing!
Alli Prince
Cold as stone
Smooth as glass
Surface begs for skater’s tracks
Dark of night
Slender moon above
Twirling, swirling, peace at last
“Solo for Two”
Round and round and round the pond,
The skater goes.
And why he’s there, with no one else,
Nobody knows.
And even though there’s not a soul,
Save him on ice.
He skates as though a hand he holds,
One soft and nice.
And spinning round he grasps her waist
to raise her high.
And wheeling sharp with artful curves,
She scrapes the sky.
A mighty thrust, a sudden twist
She’s in the air.
But he is near, and with a catch,
They’re now a pair.
He brings her down, and arm in arm
they skim the glass.
To make a shining figure eight,
With one quick pass.
He slows his flight, and rests his blade,
The final bow.
And turns to give his partner praise,
But she’s gone now.
The man is still, and walking off
the pond he goes.
And why he came, with no one else,
They still don’t know.
Gliding and glistening into the night
Silent and dark, stars fill the sky
All alone on this chilling winter evening
A frozen pond where the frozen ice lie
Skating across in figure eights
Dancing with the breeze
Slick and graceful across my blades do sail
Bundled up so as not to freeze
Falling.
So much falling.
Will there ever be an end
to my body
hitting the ice.
Who gave
all these children
walkers?
Who thought
that was a good idea?
Where can I get one.
(Not my best work, but also I’m not a great skater.)
No one expects to see me trace. A graceful figure eight, Complete an axel, spin in place Or even straight-line skate.
Lo and behold, I’m on the ice And skating like a pro. There’s no one else, which makes it nice: They’ll never have to know
That when I say I’m skating well The rating is subjective. I feel no pressure, then to tell Of my unfair perspective.
My poem looked so good before I posted. It no longer looks like a poem. I couldn’t figure out how to edit it.
A little anxious, bundles of nerves
Haven’t tried this since I was a little girl
Wobbly ankles and trembling arms
Will I land on the frozen glass–
Causing myself harm?
As time passes, mishaps are avoided
Skates begin to glide, floating forward
Momentum grows, along with my joie de vivre
Bright winter sky, cold winter air,
Still wondering if I’ll land on my derriere.
The little voice inside my head warns
Don’t get too cocky–
Pride will hit the ice before my body.
Enjoy the moment, but remain alert,
Because I don’t want to end up face-down in the dirt.
Soaring Penguin
The frosty air embraces me as I step out on the ice
My breath puffs clouds as I step-push-glide
Then
Suddenly I’m flying, long sweeping slides, my arms arc like wings
Soaring, turning
“HEY, watch it!”
A kid squawks like a seagull as he swoops past,
Brushing my arm aside, spinning me into the wall.
My puffy coat pads the hit, I grab the rail with mittened paws
Huffing and puffing, I struggle for balance, wobbling on the narrow blades
Then
step-push-glide, step-push-glide,
In my head, I’m a swallow soaring,
But outside, I’m a penguin shuffling
Skating in Solitude
Me.
Silence.
Frozen ice.
Slow motion slides.
Blades strapped to my feet.
Chickadees, nuthatches.
Bird song in the icy twigs.
Beautiful solitude, alone.
Enjoying frigid tranquility.
Frosty flakes falling on red, upturned cheeks.
(I’m not sure if this is a real way to write a poem, but it’s just an added syllable on each line. You guys will have to tell me if it’s a real thing, I don’t know how I got the idea for it in the first place.)
When I skate alone
There’s no one to see me fall
No one to laugh to tease
No one to say I’m no good at all
When I skate alone
There’s no one to pick me up
No one to say it’s okay
No one to show me the way
I like both perspectives on this April! So often we can see the concept of social isolation as a good thing, a way to get away from all the people problems. But then we miss out on the beauty of relationships. It can be hard, awkward, dangerous even, but we were never meant to “do life” alone.
Actually have a story for this one, though I’m not good at poetry.
All lights are dim, but just that one
One too cold and hard to be sun,
Its beam is hard and small and white
Yet when I move my path it lights
I pay no heed, but just skate still,
The song I know will play on still,
Each move I’ve done a thousand time,
Each spin and jump and blade that’s mine
They watch me from the side too dark,
They judge and watch my every mark,
I do not look at faces hard
From cheering faces I too guard
I dance not for those you here see,
But for a host who’s there for me,
I will not worry if I win,
But feel their smile now and then.
You did a wonderful job.
On frosted pond, a silver gleam,
Alone I skate, a winter dream.
Steel whispers soft on icy floor,
No sound but that, and nothing more.
The woods stand still, a watching line,
Of furry friends, with eyes that shine.
A curious deer, a robin bright,
Observe my dance in fading light.
No chains to hold, no walls to keep,
Just open space, where secrets sleep.
The cold wind bites, a gentle sting,
As freedom’s song my spirit sings.
Each graceful glide, a joyful flight,
A peaceful heart in fading light.
The pond and I, a world apart,
Connected by a beating heart.
The frosted surface of the lake
Mirrors the wintry world around,
And reflects each perfect flake,
That falls like dewdrops to the ground.
A single sound breaks winter’s spell,
A sound both wild and grating,
A sound more clear than any bell,
The sound of someone skating.
Across the sheet of ice so pure,
‘Tis I whose skates so smoothly glide,
That Hermes’ boots could hardly soar,
More freely than my ride.
Millions of snowflakes are falling
On the frozen pond in our woods
Not many know of its calling
Perhaps a few from early childhoods
I have not been here for ages
Just home for a holiday stay
To turn back the time and pages
Of a long ago moment of play
I sit on the old wooden tree stump
To lace up my weathered old skates
My nerves bring back a familiar lump
In my throat as I recall those dates
When a couple would spend all their evenings
Here on this frozen cold pond
Laughing and planning their leaving
To a bigger and grander beyond
But plans and memories fade
In years that have passed had I known
That the pond would again catch my blade
As I once again ice skate alone.
Wind whips through my hair
I skate, racing the wind.
Clockwise in circles
Left, right, left, right, glide.
No one with me means freedom
No fear of leaving someone behind
No worry that we’ll cause each other to fall
Just myself, the ice, and the wind
Exhilaration as I lose track of time.
Have you ever raced your shadow, across a frozen lake?
Faster faster, who will win? what prize is there to take?
Never a winner, just a draw, remember you’ve always known.
There is only so much fun to ice skating alone.
Afternoon sun hits the ice
Making it sparkle and shine.
I’m sliding, gliding across the pond,
Squinting against the glare.
Breath like smoke in the frosty air.
Warm inside my winter clothes,
Noises muffled by the snow
Circling the pond, alone with my thoughts,
Feet moving to a rhythm of their own
Enjoying the stillness, soaking up the peace,
Storing it away,
Treasuring against the busyness of a future day.
Why is skating across the ice just like life?
All alone, no hand to hold.
Why is my heart filled with strife?
No one to laugh with.
I’m surrounded by people; familiar faces that stare.
They sometimes smile; sometimes…
Surrounded by “friends”; I’m over aware.
Have we forgotten how to say “hello”?
My heavy heart has a grip on me
I let gravity do its thing
Holding back an emotional sea
Someone calls “Are you alright?”
But it’s just a stranger. Why?
The others still just smile and stare
No matter what I did, how hard I would try.
Never once did they really care.
They thought I was fine
Yet they didn’t know the struggle in my head
With my anxieties I recline
Some days I’m better off gone.
Out of people’s ways when I’m not a problem
Scribble on ice like crayon
Hold it in
Keep cool like the snow
Lock it away
No one has to know
-A.H. Bradbury
Great poem! I hear you, I grew up with the lyrics from a few songs which sums up my life and exactly what you’re sharing here.
‘Slip sliding away, slip sliding away
the more I near my destination,
The more I’m slip sliding away’
I think Paul Simon sang it best
and here I am to attest,
as I repeat, skate, wobble, fall,
Dressed warmly in my overalls
Alone, with no one else in sight
The slick white ground puts up a fight
With potholes, craters and unseen ruts
Shards of ice form on my butt
Hazards that make me quite afraid
As I trip, slide, rock
On a lethal blade
I hum through lips, dry and chapped
‘I’m still standing’ a song more apt?
Elton John would disagree
If I used his song to describe me.
So I scoot away in haste (and seated)
Cold and bruised and now defeated
Ticked off my bucket list’s ‘to do’
Next up is skydiving! Let’s go! WOOHOO!!!!!!
Love this!
TY 🙂
Whimsical fun. Enjoyed reading this as I visioned myself doing the same.
Today would be different,
she felt it in her heart.
Although, past struggles abound, and kept her hidden and down.
Today would be the day to join the ranks of generations past as she laced each of her worn beige skates with a new assurance.
Today would be different.
First, the bench of support, then a chair, counter to rails steadied her wobble to the ice.
Reminicient of previous walks at 3,
then 5th grade,
7th thru 12th,
once in college,
a tipsy, midnight, co-worker dare,
with kids, without kids,
whole family or half.
Now solo,
on today.
Just her, the rink and her first protector.
At the edge of the ice, steady she stood, against the door, exhale once then three times more.
On the fifth exhale, she tapped the blade onto the ice and off she goes,
one skate over the other for a perfect figure eight.
Gliding effortlessly to the center of the rink, a crossover of perfection, one circle then the next.
An encore of endless twirls and spins.
Reality or actuality,
no perfect 8 …
But eratic scribbles.
Clumsily, she soared
banging into the door,
when her nerves took hold.
Arms flaying,
legs apart in opposite directions,
she landed squarely on her knees, gasping.
Rolling over onto her back, exuberant laughter filled the air.
“Dad,” she yelled, for hand to stand.
The intercom scratched, and echoed high in the rafters, from her number one fan.
“well, at least you made it on the ice, this time,” he said.
Yes, she whispered to herself, accomplished at last.
On a glistening sheet of frozen glass,
I glide where only the moon’s light will pass.
My skates echo their soft swoosh
As if to give the night sky a grateful smooch.
The world momentarily stops; the cold feels peaceful and kind,
as if the night knows I need to calm and still my mind.
Alone, yet held in winter’s embrace,
I have found my long-awaited happy place.
Scrape Scrap Scrape Scrap
The sound of skaters on ice
“wow they’re all together, that must be nice”
Amy sighed and sulked all night long
She had been stood up by a guy named Fong
She realized she didn’t need him to be happy
It’s the Friday before Christmas Eve
He’ll probably show up in clothes all scrappy
The wait is over, he’s no longer in control
Amy skated, and she skated alone
She wasn’t sad and she wasn’t upset
She’s more than enough, she’ll wait to get set(tled).