(Ed note–We are pleased to present the site debut of A.J. Huffman, with five looks at the mysteries of icicles–The Eds.)
from Icicles this Anticipation
The point is: creation takes
more than seven days. A lifetime
of would-be Sundays disappear
one drip at a time. Liquid tears race
down suicidal slide. Will they beat
the wind, land on chilled cushion
of accumulated drift? Never
count out Southeasterlies,
their decimating gusts hold the most
aggressive drops in stasis till nearly invisible
dagger welcomes them to blade.
from Icicles this Ephemerality
Solid is circumstantial,
hanging in the four corners of any home.
External forces alternate retention,
dissolution. Air and sun
are keys, constant pressures
to be endured. Foundations
are fragile. Cracks
quickly turn into shattering falls.
from Icicles this Fragility
Metal may be monumental,
but its grip is tenuous
turmoil of balance. Temperatures
rise. Reactions hold
no depth. Eyes can see
through every attempted defiance.
Angry breath releases frigid finger.
All that is left is silence,
absence, the answer
to gravity’s call.
from Icicles this Reflection
Nature holds certain
affinities for symmetry, inherent
need for balance. Clouds
contain liquid, precipitate solids
that accumulate, generate heat, melt
back to liquid, fall
into the wind, freeze solid, form
a point. Everything disappears
inside itself. Eventually.
from Icicles this Refraction
Solid is sometimes temporary,
lacking visual
purpose, transparent.
Such reflective moments echo with potential.
The seemingly invisible see
the world with unshadowed eyes.
A.J. Huffman
(Image is of the poet)
Saragun Springs 
AJ
Taking a look at a theme from different angles in storytelling and poetry is hard to do right. But this run flows, each piece on its own and as a part of the whole.
Beautifully done!
Leila
LikeLike
A.J.
Your poems have a purity to them that almost matches the purity of ice itself. Every line, almost, is packed with fresh imagery, and the lines that aren’t packed with fresh imagery are made of connective transitional wording which performs its job in an original manner. Your poems show what to leave out of poems as much as what should go in. Real poetry is packed, concise, condensed, the epitome of brevity, just as ice is the condensed version of water. Great job exploring the metaphorical world as well as the world as metaphor.
Dale
LikeLike
I like poetry that come at things metaphorically from different angles like Wallace Steven’s blackbird poem. These are excellent. I especially like Anticipation and “Everything disappears inside itself. Eventually” is an excellent line.
LikeLiked by 1 person