Concrete Forms

It seems The poetic forms Outnumber the norms Of rhythm, pace and meter As if meeting an old acquaintance But didn’t want to meet her I prefer the Iamb With fingers counting ten Thus, with the joy of every line I count them all again The Etheree Confuses me It takes so long to get there With but one line of ten And then my eager fingers Don’t get to count again Then there are the echoes of lines that slip and slide as somewhere in their mystery a hidden rhyme abides Thus, I count, and scream and write Pour word concrete into forms Knowing that when left alone My dreams will slowly turn to stone. John G. Lawless ©7/10/2023