Writing Prompt

The blade cuts deep, hard and fast A trail of destruction wrapped up in a dance. A story of scars, map my body, Skating on ice, for you, such a hobby. A twist and a turn, the blade cuts so deep Carving a path through my heart, starting to bleed. Red meets white, and the dance starts to slow. This love of ours, was nothing but a show

Thin blades creasing on fragile stone The water is so delicatly froze Cuts and spins, round and round The ice provides, without a sound

It holds up strong despite the faint scars That seem so fresh and new to its heart It invites others to step on it everytime Because their heart is too big, and little is their mind

It’s their pleasure to push people and let them glide Right over them, as they sit and hide Watching from the cave below As the very being they helped, forgets them under the snow

They give a warm drink along the way And watch them leave without pay Too scared of fate to speak up and say And just watch, watch everyone run away

A doormat, the floor, the ice they all trust Sits there while they glide, testing their luck Beautiful spins and twirls, always a must But what about the ice, undertneath such bustle? Is it left there forever, a constant muscle?

Snow hits the icy ground, As, on the pond, she glides around. Why is it so nice, How beautiful she looks on the ice? I dare not make a sound. For I am, obviously, spellbound. By her, breathtaking, beauty. As she glares at me; as usual, snooty. When I notice I notice, I am confound, As I remember a time I hated her year round. For she has been stuck up, since we were small. I think as I make a snowball, Then throw it at her, face bound. Afterwards her butt hit the ice with a pound. She then yells at me. As I just, pathetically, flee.

Ice skating Favorite sport Gliding free Long or short

I spot it- Floating In the middle of the pond

I bundle up, Preparing To reach the center

I push off- Gliding From left to right

I stumble,
Collapsing From untied laces

I break through- Sinking Beneath the surface

I look up, Reaching It’s just beyond my grasp

Dancing, gliding on ice. Do you ever stop to marvel at the idea? The fact people play sports while gliding on blades over a frozen solid rink? I wonder if people are used to it, as we are used to roller skating. I do not understand the world outside my own, even if i want to. The thought of the cold seems wonderful, when i sit here in the scorching sun on a january morning. What luxury it must be to live in a place where ice skating is even possible. Though i guess the same could be said for living with alligators.

I hear the roars of the ocean clashing against the rocks next to my home. I walk down into my kitchen. Dishes lay piled up as high as my eyes view. I walk around my counter stepping over torn dog toys. My mom has been laying on the couch watching tv since the accident. 3 months ago we got into a car collision, my mom had been driving and I was in the passenger seat aside her as normal. Suddenly a transport truck ramed into the drivers side of the car. I can still hear the screals and wailing of my mom. The paramedics got there intime to save her life but her leg was a lost cause. The flesh was torn into shreds leaving blood and skin everywhere. Ever since the day my mother lost her leg she has been drained, so drained she cant even take care of her kids anymore. I learned to cook and clean, take the dogs for walks, bring the kids to school and help with there homework afterwards. Meanwhile she sits there and just screams at us all day. Everytime im around her now its like walking on thin ice, you need to be careful with your words elegant almost like a figure skater leaping and turning at the perfect times and making everything just right.

A winter ballerina, a sight for sore eyes She ice skated to me, a blessing in disguise The world went silent. All sounds fading A fairytale princess, an angel ice skating

Tight quick breaths Quick stiff steps Uphill in heels and my good purse Steeling myself for another day At the office On your ice Bruised and numb Skating around missed deadlines Smiling till my cheeks hurt Arms flung wide open to an audience of jeers Criticisms piled in the sidelines Let me pirouette A perfect spin of never good enough No worries See you on Monday I’m used to balancing on blades

Cold and silent, the skyline is bright The traveler relives in his mind an old sound Glowy greens and blues are in sight. All of his memories, were they always so round?

The uneven path on the cratered pools of dark Skid his foot on the surface and in grace he leapt This motion would be the end to life’s arc He surrendered to the dark thoughts that crept

As soon as he landed, a tune, dormant, emerged His feet synced up seamless, and the tune grew The omnipotent melody and motions soon merged How high he flies up with movements so few

Free and in rhythm, his body is his speaker Cathartic and bittersweet his memories would soon be The once ruling calamity in reaction grew weaker The man on the moon realizes he is free