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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
Copyright ©
John Lawless
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