The Skiing Incident
It's not that I'm a wimp,
but yesterday I tried to ski,
and I've come to the conclusion now
that skiing's just not me.
I don't know why it happened
and I don't know what it meant,
But it will now on be referred to
as "the skiing incident".
I told my dad, it's crazy,
that the logic's incomplete;
relying on those crazy shoes
to keep me on my feet.
He laughed and said, "This isn't
some derranged depravity.
Don't worry, you'll be fine, son,
just rely on gravity."
When I saw the giant mountain,
sure it gave me quite a scare,
but that was just the onset,
it was all downhill from there.
I knew that if I didn't try,
I'd be laughed out of town,
So I rode the ski lift up
but was afraid to come back down.
I stood there for an hour
summoning my strongest will,
but just couldn't find the courage
to go zooming down that hill.
'Course I guess it didn't matter
because when I turned to go,
I slipped, and next thing I knew
I was cruising 'cross the snow.
I almost hit a tree
and then I almost hit my brother.
And of course he had to laugh
when I went flying over mother.
My face was red and frozen
and my lips were getting chapped.
I just knew I'd end up stuck in some snow bank,
But that is not what happened,
I am so sorry to say.
The troubles of my ski trip
are still haunting me today.
I don't want to be a pain,
but someone better call a cop,
'cause I'm still going,
No one ever told me how to stop!
(C) 1998, Arden Davidson
I am trying to find a publisher or agent
to represent any or all of the stories and poems
in "A Pocketful of Rhymes".
If you know anyone that can help, or have comments,
please e-mail me.Thanks!