Notes About The Poem
Poetry Contest: Tempest, Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
Tempest of Ice
Ice, what do I imagine.
So far away, I’m floating.
At a distance, I see
the problem, but can’t
make it out. Will my lights
go out; will I freeze?
Blanketed by ice, arctic
circulation - thank the Lord
I have another body
to keep me warm.
Ice falling from frigid sky;
the tempest of crystals.
Will I survive this attack
to the South as the North
L A U G H S!
Stuck in ice, on T O P
of a hill, with curvy driveway.
New car underneath cover.
Here comes the ice, the bite
from a monster storm -
the North laughs with
twinkling eyes. The shelves
are empty in the stores.
But see me, cousin, with
icy brows, frozen fingertips,
no lights, no television.
I’m floating on the sea;
can’t make out what
will become of me. Woe
is me. I’ve eaten chicken
fingers in frozen form.
I’m an animal. Electricity.
This tempest hasn’t even warmed,
but the warning from my dreams
is on fire; glacier imaginations
inside my head - icicles form.
Survival of the fittest Southerner;
a crack of thunder, ice, ice wonder.
Floating, at a distance, cousin.
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