As life returns to normal, post-COVID infection, I thought it might be an idea to write some longer form poems for the next 30 days, to get me back into the business of routine. Fortunately, Twitter has provided an event for that: #NaPoWriMo, which is part of #NationalPoetryMonth.

Poem #5 is the last concrete poem, and we then move on. It’s often the case with my brain processes that there needs to be a couple of swings at the same subject before I get the delivery system correct. In this case, it’s a good poem, but the poetry isn’t right in this format. It needed a retool, which has subsequently happened in another way.

Thank you for taking the time to read, and please comment if you like this 😀

What      we      Made     from       the        Ire 

Acrimony, story as definition
much of what’s left amongst
dust, behind musty walls:
they thought it necessary
to recount, each sordid item
there they lie, path’s stones
leading this into unknowns
where certain language dies
imaginary lining up, and as

moments overlap     one
becomes the other

it’s            alright
you     can     let     it     go

the other becomes
one   moment  overlaps

certain, dies
leading this
there, they lie
every detail
thought lost
behind dust
what now
falls free:

only me, the key.

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