An Affair on Ice

As the sound of a low pitched cello begins
He glides his finger down the perfect arch of her back

In the instant the bows of the violins begin to string their chords, he pulls her small waist in close against him

A flutter of the flutes, an intense stare between them

Grasping her delicate hand, he spins her out of their tight embrace and they dash across the ice together as the drums dance

The sound of the sharp blade of his skate slivers the ice to silence the drums

In one swoosh, he lifts her fragile body into the air into the spotlight

The orchestra roars

Her silver dress shimmers like diamonds

Dazzling

Her raven black hair , slicked back in a bun

Striking

Her arms and legs cut like glass extended

Beautiful

The look of determination in her eyes fierce like bolts of lightning

Terrorizing

The sweat on her porcelain skin glistens like tiny drops of glitter

A meticulous moment

Is she going to fly!

A split second
He releases her
She collapses in his arms

As the sound of a low pitched sound cello fades
He removes his hand from the perfect arch of her back

They separate at the sound of the cheers

She smiles and waves at the audience as she skates away from him

A glimpse of the glitter under her tell-tale eye

Wait..is that a tear drop?

By: Laura Parker

Love and Literature and Harmony

For most people, love songs are our favorite songs (Levintin, 2009). What is your favorite song? What is your favorite poem or story? Are love poems and stories our favorite genres of literature too?

Love and Literature

Love ?
He loves me
I love him not
He loves me not
I love him.

By: Laura Parker

Emily Bronte

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” Emily Bronte

Leo Tolstoy

“The chief thing that made him feel like weeping was the sudden, acute sense of the terrible contrast between something infinitely great and indefinable existing within him, and that narrow, corporeal something that he, and even she, was. The contrast wrung his heart and rejoiced him as she sang.” Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

“I dip my pen in the blackest ink, because I am not afraid of falling into my ink pot.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

A Winter Collection of Haiku

Frostbite

I walk shoulders tense

Crunch of snow beneath my boots

Cold air stings my cheeks.

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In from the cold

Warm by fireplace

The red wine flows so sweetly

Outside snow falls calm.

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By: Laura Parker