An Icicle Nonet
By: Carl “Papa” Palmer
Icicles always fat at their tops
tapering down toward the ground,
time frozen in melted drops
from eaves around the town.
They drip in the day,
refreeze at night,
melt away,
out of
sight
By: Carl “Papa” Palmer
Icicles always fat at their tops
tapering down toward the ground,
time frozen in melted drops
from eaves around the town.
They drip in the day,
refreeze at night,
melt away,
out of
sight
The Nonet is a nine-line poem with a specific syllable count of each line.
In my poem, 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1