Symphony Poems

SYMPHONY POEMS. The Vermont Symphony Orchestra chose six poems written in response to “The Skater’s Waltz” by Emil Waldteufel which were narrated at the Holiday Pops concerts in Barre, Burlington and Rutland on Dec. 7, 8 and 9 respectively. The young writers selected were Hannah Domas, Kestrel Grevatt, Ellie Blake, Bethany Sullivan, Colleen Shouldice and Cally Braun. To read the poems and hear the music, press "read more" below and then click the play arrow above to hear the music while you read.

By Bethany Sullivan
Mount Mansfield Union High School, Grade 11

Snowflakes melt into droplets
Suspended on the wool fibers
Of red mittens.
Stinging fingers buried inside
Grasp at another mittened hand.

A blue glove pats the girl’s back.
She’s never been skating before,
But the boy strides backwards,
Arm extending as he tugs her after him,
Coaxing, a laugh in every syllable.
She follows, catches on,
And soon stands on sturdy legs,
Taking ambitious strokes.

Snowflakes pirouette from a young, gray sky
The sun seeps behind the mountains,
Pooling on the horizon
Like melted butter
On Christmas morning pancakes.
Snow,
Like confectioner’s sugar
Collecting in the boy’s hair
As he skates in strong strokes,
Both laughing out
Gingerbread house laughs,
Breath misty on the lively, crisp air.

Carnival colors, captive
In strings of lights,
Twine around the pond
Glowing like candles,
Flames of joy vibrant
Against the twilight sky
Sprinkling forth its dusting of flakes
Tumbling past eyelashes
And rosy cheeks,
Past tight-bound, sharp skates
Cutting into smooth ice,
Leaving a trail of shavings

Red mitten releases blue glove
As the girl attempts a spin
But tumbles, coming down hard
To the smooth, shining surface,
Cold through her pants,
As she sings out with laughter
He gives his hand
And they skate on
Through the sparkle of the evening

Light
As the soaring pair,
In close-wrapped scarves
Knit by grandmothers in far-off rocking chairs,
Light as the joyful chimes
In a bright winter waltz,
Clear like sharp January stars
Light
As bursts of happy color
Clustered in the patterns
Of warm sweaters,
And spread through the evergreens
Delicately laced with snow.
Floating like a feather
In soft chickadee shades
It drifts gently,
Close to home,
But not quite touching
Earth.

By Hannah Domas
Rochester High School, Grade 9

"Sweet dreams Mom," I say.
"Sweet dreams," she answers back.
I lay in my bed,
with the covers tucked around me tight.
Slowly, I look around my room.
At the ceiling,
with the small chip in it,
right above my bed.
At the old white desk in the corner.
Then I look out the window.
The dark, cloudy night sky
drapes everything in shadow.
Just then, the gray clouds part
and the moon is revealed.
The face is scarred with craters,
like an old battle worn soldier.
A glistening shine catches my eye.
The Willow pond,
with it's frozen surface,
dazzles in the moonlight.
And suddenly I'm not in my cozy bed,
but out on the ice,
with snowflakes whirling around me.
I look down and find that I have skates on my feet,
their sharp blades shining brightly.
I take a few laps,
just to warm up.
Then I take my pose,
in the middle of the ice.
I hold my breath, waiting.
The music starts,
the French horn sounds slowly,
4 long notes,
and still I wait.
Then the flutes start,
going up the scale,
like twittering birds.
And the violins answer,
going down the scale.
Then the violins and flutes repeat,
getting faster and faster,
until the two are merged together.
They abruptly end,
the drum and symbol crashing together.
And I'm off as the French horn sounds again,
Gliding to the long, deep, crisp notes,
I feel like I'm barely touching the Ice at all,
floating above the surface.

Skating fast,
Up,
Then down,
Revolving,
Spiraling,
On the spot.
My dream goes
On,
And on,
And on.

Skating in circles,
Stopping,
Starting,
Whirling,
Twirling,
On ice.
My dream goes
On,
And on,
And on.

Gathering speed,
Slowing,
Leaping,
Turning,
Jumping
Grazing the ice.

My dream goes
On,
And on,
And on.

I am skating,
Jumping,
Spinning,
In air,
On ice,
In my
Dream.

By Ellie Blake
Charlotte Central School, Grade 5

You are weightless
gliding along
glasslike
delicacy.

Your body has
drifted to an
abandoned path,
just your soul
is left.

The world around you
is wearing a coat,
a white blanket,
that seems to be
worth gold.

A feeling is thrust
upon you.
Thousands of
pounds of joy.
Bells sing,
harmonies melt.

The world
has stopped.
But the beat
of your heart
is fast,
so alive.

Finally
your skates are off
your body
was found
the world has started again.

You are left
abandoned,
abandoned
without your skates
any more.

By Colleen Shouldice
Mount St. Joseph Academy, Grade 9

My window is open
I wake up smelling the clean crisp air all around me
I put on my sweat pants and sweatshirt
Grab my skates and I am out the door
I run to the pond
I lace up my skates
Making sure they do not break
I race all around till I am warm
I grab my stick
All of a sudden the pond turns in to an arena
Fans cheering
Crowd-pleasing
I feel great
Then I hear a ringing
I think to myself oh it just time for the zamboni
Then I hear Colleen time to get up
I realize it was only a dream

By Cally Braun
Charlotte Central School, Grade 6

My skates
Glide over
The ice
Weaving patterns
Twirl, twist, turn,

I am lifted into
The air
My feet
Still dancing
Dashing through
The swirling clouds
Blades flashing silver
I catch a glimpse
Of white wings
Flying majestically
Through the night
Twirl, twist, turn

Melodies ride
On the wind
Humming
I am spinning
Through time
Among the stars
Sprinkled
Across the sky
Twirl, twist, turn,

I have
Unlocked
The door
To happiness,
I am skating
Twirl, twist, turn.