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The Heartless, Lifeless Icicle

Kenneth, born and raised in the South, resides in Hamilton, Alabama. He enjoys sharing his unique perspectives on life through his writing.

I hold no compassion on this cold piece of creation.

I hold no compassion on this cold piece of creation.

In simple terms, I hate you, the heartless icicle. From the time in my younger days, I have only touched you and that was because I was hungry. And an older person advised me that an icicle could act as ice cream. That title was half-right. I got burned through and through with that lie. Since then, I have never pulled an icicle from anyone's roof to sample your cold, lifeless life form.

Let me ask: just what has any icicle done for you? Did anyone give you a great job? Give you a bag of money for free? Take you out to eat in a fine steak restaurant? Okay. Since no is the answer to these questions, I am back at my original thought: just what has any icicle done for you and your family? Are you not upset at these questions and ideas? You should be. Have you ever tasted the tasteless icicle? This idea works. Open your tap open, fill a plastic container full and place it in the freezer. Check it in 24 hours and wa-la! You have a bulky icicle, probably the roof-edged skinny icicle's grandpa.

But oh how devious you are, chilly icicle. I spend a lot of time in the winter time cautioning kids who think that you are are oh so beautiful, but they do not know just how dangerous you are. Even slow-thinking adults will tell you some quick compliments, then you will turn on them just when their finger tips touch the sharp point to the end of your tip. In some instances, there has been blood shed by adults, maybe a few kids, but they are all so forgiving declaring that accidents happen, then laugh and try to get another icicle.

Yours is a lonely existence, icy icicle. No friends run with you to go get a burger or even take-in a movie. Lonely is far from how I describe you. In a truth, I rather call you as a cold depression. And being a human, I should show you compassion, but I cannot. If I were to do that, my other human beings would talk about me behind my back and whisper unkind things. I wouldn't want that. Would you? Oh, wait. Yes, you would want that because you and all of the icicles around th world and on those unexplored planets in the universe are not compassionate, so why should I even spend time pondering the issue.

But cold icicle, I am not one hundred-percent evil. No. I have just dreamed-up a very cute nick-name for you: "Ike," the Cold Icicle. Catchy, huh? Here comes "Ike, the Cold Icicle!" people on the sidewalk will yell. They should. Because they have never witnessed a walkig icicle much less one with a name. Only in New York City.
Alright. I find myself wanting to share just one more thing about you, "Ike," The Cold Icicle. And it is from a hit song, or was, made famous by The Cranberries. Note: I am sharing just a few lyrics for you to see that I did search and find a song with "icicle."

When will the icicle melt
The icicle, icicle
And when
When will the picture show end
The picture show, picture show
I should not have read the paper today
'Cause a child, child, child, child
He was taken away

There's a place for the baby that died
And there's a time for the mother who cried
And she will hold him in her arms sometime
'Cause nine months is too long, too long, too long

How could you hurt a child
How could you hurt a child
Now does this make you satisfied, satisfied, satisfied
I don't know what's
Happening to people today
When a child, child, child, child
He was taken away . . . . .

I would write more about what was once (just) a lonely icicle, that was until I discovered you and turned you into "Ike," The Cold Icicle.

Sometimes I amaze myself.

B-r-r-r-r, is the language of icicles.

B-r-r-r-r, is the language of icicles.

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© 2021 Kenneth Avery

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