PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

An icicle on the gutter

Growing longer

Will it stab? Or shatter? 

Grab the light and scatter?

Prism of the risen dead

You'll watch its progress 

Dripping and freezing

Fingernails uncut coiling

Stalactite of the stagnant

There's no way it'll puncture the earth

Even as its girth breaches

What anyone could expect

A test of what's pleasing

Forever tempting to chop

And let its fragments sink in snow

Anyway

They're all water down below