Ice Pick Poems | Examples

Old Rock Stone

Wind chill ice pick flails “perma” stone,
rough storm weatherer’s bleak graveside moan!

INFLUENCE's ICE PICK

Oh, my, look at all the flavors
What are you getting
I'm not hungry
Come on, I'm paying

Here's your share
I've divided the pie equally
Ah, ah, ah, but dinner first
No sweets before meal

Your system is wrong
You need too much help
Greens and no treats
Will fix your flow

Bloated, taxed, no way
Out of this living hell
Who knew, body has voice
Mine has been struck dumb

Availability is on the throne

Written by Trudy Schrader on 10-04-2024

Three Girl Bounty

Wishing for a woman or friend
To your corner room, alone, but then 
Creating sins not yet penned:
Infallible rules of fallible men.

For whereas Love seems so bubbly
And see through feelings easily crumbling 
Blanket you with insecurity tumbling
The reflection of a life lived humbly.

Writing your outline
Of perfection in flesh
Thrown back are your shoulders
In Confident judgement.
Less is more and more or less,
We long for a quiet,  petting caress.

Towering above, forever beaming
Swearing allegiance with justice gleaming 
Magnifies your drunken streaming
Until syringes of love start teeming. 

The ice-pick points to the one to blame
Dealing silently a Go Fish game,
For all is wild and none are tame
In the snapshot of when the Messiah came.

In future eternities all jousts find cadence,
Without lance or shield,
Without fits nor radiance,
We settle in for perfect maintenance.
We settle for perfect maintenance.

Paralyzed

Paralyzed 

This room is not the same after the steel is taken away.
Steel that pierces like a dull ice pick.
When the lights are off elusive shadows haunt 
So elusive they cant be seen.
Why must the torcher continue.?
That's a question that has an answer that yet eludes.
Defining insanity is without a doubt my profession.

The potion introduced has a strong grip.
Scraping tiny specks of dust hoping it will be enough.
It never is. Still trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive.
Shouting at them only intensifies the antagonizing.
I do this to myself. Every time it's the same .
Bargaining is the next approach but still no reply.
I must find the intruder. The next round I’ll surely win.



“Ricco”

Paralyzed

Parylized 

This room is not the same after the steel is taken away.
Steel that pierces like a dull ice pick.
When the lights are off elusive shadows haunt 
So elusive they cant be seen.
Why must the torcher continue.?
That's a question that has an answer that yet eludes.
Defining insanity is without a doubt my profession.

The potion introduced has a strong grip.
Scraping tiny specks of dust hoping it will be enough.
It never is. Still trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive.
Shouting at them only intensifies the antagonizing.
I do this to myself. Every time it's the same .
Bargaining is the next approach but still no reply.
I must find the intruder. The next round I’ll surely win.



“Ricco”

With a Freezing Ice Pick

There once was a jockey from Reykjavik
Who'd hit his horse with a freeing ice pick -- 
   The horse, it would stumble
   The jockey, he'd grumble --
"Shut-up, you old nag, I've a charcoal brick!"

Lies, Lies, Lies

Lies, Lies, Lies!
Is that all you say?
I love you, I won't leave you 
You liar, just go away!

You're my woman, and I'm your man
I'll never abandon you, I aim to please
No! You're just an illusion, you can never be true
All of my time that was wasted on someone like you!

The poison on your lips, the lies that you tell
You should be ashamed of yourself, you belong deep in the throws of hell

You prey on innocent women, who give you their hearts
Did it ever occur to you, that you were their star?
Your vows mean nothing, it's lip service you give
How did I end up falling for such a pompous pig?

Come a little closer you say, I want to hold your hand
As you sharpen your daggers and shove an ice pick through my skin

There's a barrier between us now, you cannot cross it ever again
We are finished with this love affair
This is the end.

The Butcher Block

The Butcher Block / Toolbox
(Today, I expunge all thoughts on kitchen knives)
Written: by Tom Wright
7-12-2016

With a paring knife would you butcher a cow?
Bet my sweetie would if you showed her how.
While I, in thought, would seek the proper tool,
I sit cringing at her from a distant bar stool.

Are sharp things not intended for housewives?
We’ve two butcher blocks stocked with knives,
Knives in which I spared no expense to obtain;
But from their use she will frequently abstain,

She prefers a knifes point in lieu of an ice pick,
Always favoring a knife that won’t cut a lick;
To use as a screwdriver should she have need,
Thinking, that if dull one’s slip, she won’t bleed?

When using a knife it’s with a motion of a saw, 
And sometimes just watching hangs in my craw.
But seated on my stool I so diligently remain,
Sweetie, grasping any knife, and I’ll not complain.

Ice Pick Bones

Old man winter slaps at the soul.
But my spade is smiling and sharpened.
I was born in Buffalo.
So, my bones are made from ice picks.
The heart pumps out rock salt by the bowl.
I've been through blizzards, chewed on black ice.
Hopscotched over downed power lines. 
Drank from busted pipes.
Got 55 years of calloused fists.
To pound black ice into diamonds of spring.
So, bring it on old man.
Bring it straight to me!

The Arctic

Stark Arctic vacant for centuries
habitat white fur bears epoch
prom's on ice sheets breeze
cubs in search for mama's barrack 
concurring ice surrenders whistle 
remark the scent of sea lions
nurture's th' cubs haunting an angel
in freezing water bathing, stuns
cleans thou fur splash'd blood mud's
with a long wooden ice pick stick
Eskimo Indians with leather studs
an a husky right beside slick
Eyes wide fur fluff an irresistible speed
chilled they stay like family like bear

Different worlds apply suitability 
passionate to live in thou world 
leave mine an find solidity
among masters of ice pearl'd
like dolphin's feel in th' wide ocean
free spirits eccentric in this world
visual glitters under water at dawn
an sleep by morning sunlight furl
having such power an strength
thou art can't by any means measure 
th' Arctic distance in length 
memorizing thou atmosphere's odour
never enough for my passion to feather
my moral says i have to live there

an you'll probably wish me good luck

Antartic Springs

I sold all my junk
When I was broke
To slunk
Where to
I joked
Who knew?

I picked Antarctic
To get that ice
Drastic?
I guess
High price
Oh yes.

I brought my ice pick
And a large pail
Got sick
By plane
Then sailed
In rain

After a long time
I made it there
Then climbed
A hill
And beard
The chill

I chopped with my tools
Put in the pot
Ice jewels
Though quit
When got
Frost bit

For this golden ice
Will make me rich
Suffice
To say
This niche
Did pay

My Antarctic Springs
Company did
Sure bring
Renown
Amid
The town

With pure h2o
Plus ice cold beer
They know
That mine	
Is clear
Devine

Yes, that vintage freeze
Is apropos
Though geez
It’s cold
That snow
Is gold!

Golden Roads

"Golden Roads"
A Relationship...
Someone you call on to
blow lashes out your eye.
Does it in such a way,
it fixes the issue only
to have more problems ensue.
Clearly able to see, you say, 
" Let me get a good look at you Beauty"
No matter how many showers you take, 
they grip your insides
feels as if they know how 
sickle cell's rearrangement. 
Their presence makes you well.
Able to change your disposition 
like a House Party switch position.
Eye contact. Thoughts go blind 
and instincts as basic as 
Sharon Stone holding an ice pick 
comes to mind.
They know the way to Shangri-La 
& satisfaction and take you there promptly.
The one person able to build you up 
knows the exact brick to pull for your undoing.
But they never do. Edify you like medieval architecture 
that reaches skyscraper heights. 
It's rare to find someone who knows how 
the yellow brick road was laid. 
And whenever you need direction, 
they point the way.
Kinda funny, it took Toto's loyalty, 
courage, intelligence, a heart and missing home
 to understand how to weather a storm.

I'Ll Learn

Hold me to your heart with a tight grip. 
So tight to get away I'd need an ice pick. 
But I promise not to use one. 
I'll just melt into you with my love. 
Those three words are so hard to say. 
But I can prove that I feel that way. 
I'll try to even out my hot and cold
Temperatures of my soul.
Thru and heal the broken pieces, 
So that you can have the whole me. 
Undamaged and unafraid. 
I'll try to see that you will stay. 
I'll learn to trust completely again. 
Just have patience, I ask of you, 
For once I know my love is true. 
And I can prove it to you everyday. 
I'll earn your heart, so gentle and kind.

Where Frozen Embers Still Burn

My heart is frozen back in time
Looking back to when you were mine

Oh how our love and passion burned
You stole my heart, yet now I’m spurned

I still don’t know where I went wrong
My body aches - for you I still long

You drove an ice pick into my heart
Twisted it round and tore me apart

You ripped apart my very soul
I’m empty now, when once was whole

Your words were music to my ears
I’m left in silence with my deepest fears

If we could have another chance
Would I take you back for sweet romance?

I look at our photos and still I yearn
For you the frozen embers still burn


08~18~14

Migraine Madness

Imagine an ice pick
to the core of the meat 
twist and yank and pull
through smashed socket
cracking temples in a vice grip
hammer through bone and gristle

take that sharpened fork,
heated sear my tender neck 
claw it off my tightened shoulders,

dull saw my jaw ragged
grind out each tooth 
every nerve alive
flesh shivers

mouth waters with contained spew
taste of rot and bananas 
every little sound 
chews off my ears

is this what death feels like.
no. no.

*
My neurologist (brain doctor) encouraged me 
to submit this poem for all who have felt the 
wrath of migraine pain. I am also posting for 
those who have never experienced a 
migraine, lucky...

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