“Ice House” by Harry Gottlieb
brick by brick
block by block
silver surfaces
yield to assault
by saw blades
and chisels
ponds stolen
in pieces
contraband
cash crop
for poachers
alert for the
cock-snap
a landowner
shotgun might
crack in the
echoing chill
Writer Lynne Sargent
Poetry Puttering by Pax & Company
Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte
"drink from the well of your self and begin again" ~charles bukowski
no dust here
Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
flights of fancy from New Zealand
You're never alone, if you've something to share
All you touch and all you see / is all your life will ever be
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I am where the valleys are deep, the mountains are high, and the wind moans through trees...
rejuvenatement - not retirement
Poesy plus Polemics 
Once again, something so beautiful out of something so old, so cold . . . Thank you!
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thank you kindly, Peter
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Ha! Did they really steal ice? Amazing!
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I’ve only heard stories – but it fascinated me
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Well written, lines sound as well.
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thanks kindly, benny
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Really nice.
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thank you kindly
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WOW.
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I’ll take that any day
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Grandly descriptive with sharp imagery and tone. Very well done.
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I’m pleased that it worked for you, Mike
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Reblogged this on Poesy plus Polemics.
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I read “Farmer Boy” by Laura Ingalls Wilder. In her book of husband Almanzo as a child growing up, his father along with friends sawed ice from the frozen river or lake. Awesome. Thank you for the journey.
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I remember how much my daughters enjoyed her books
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Reblogged this on OUR POETRY CORNER.
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thank you for sharing my poem with your readers
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