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Lorri Proctor

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Member Since: Jan, 2006

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Featured Book
Art of the Ninja: Earth
by TJ Perkins

The Chiao village produces the best ninja in the world - even governments still have need of them. Duncan is among the many in training, but his rampant rages threaten to..  
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The Skier
by Lorri Proctor
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Rated "G" by the Author.
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           >> View all 22

The mystery of the mountains


 


 


Standing atop the silent mountain bare,


Snow rivers flowing, quivering and shining white


Before my dazzled eyes and tumbling down the slopes


That spread before me.


Eager the white snow waits


As if with breath held in for my impetuous flight.


And yet I wait.  I cannot move because entranced


By sunbeams’ glittering light along the valley floor.


 


I hover still, poised on the edge of Time,


A pause that stretches an eternity of awe.


Then of a sudden, in one swift, wide arc sublime


I fling myself away into the void below


And downhill crunch and whistle on my skis.


With plunging sticks and flying hair, I carve my way


Through rivulets of snow.


And at the bottom of the slope on looking back


I see the dark, cruel furrow that my path did mow


Into that pristine, sparkling carpet, white and pure.


 


And see the mountain rise without complaint up to the skies


And dwarf my feeble efforts with sheer immensity of size.


 

writing is soul substance

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Reviewed by Karen Palumbo
Skiing is a fun activity, but those mountains do dwarf all around them.....

Be safe,
Karen
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner
Loretta,

I used to ski, and you capture the majesty of the mountains in beautiful lines! There is a certain lure to try to conquor the peaks, and we fail, miserably. LOL But we keep going back! LOL

Well done, saving this to favorites.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Paul Berube
Loretta,

When you look back and see the majesty of the mountain you realize just how small your efforts actually are.
Reviewed by Jean Pike
Excellent poem, Loretta. You certainly captured the beauty and majesty of a snow-capped mountain on a sunny day. Skiing -- Never tried it. Never will. But this poem almost makes me want to.
xo jean
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