This year destroyed us.
I’ll never be convinced that
We can survive this.
There’s no going back.
I know it. So don’t tell me
Better times will come.
God no longer cares.
Hear me. Do not believe that
God is in control.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
This poem is 3 stanzas. Each stanza has 17-syllables (5/7/5). This is my first ever attempt at a Reverse format poem. (Read the poem from the top line, down … and then read it from the bottom line, up.)
She was planted with care,
right there
where her dark leaves and white flowers
would give hours of joy each day.
But it hasn’t worked that way.
Years have passed
since she last bloomed.
She seemed entombed –
immured, as she simply
endured
until Keith dug her up,
changed the makeup below,
which allowed the free flow
of water to root, and
we can’t dispute the wonder.
Once freed from earth’s clay,
we saw growth the first day.
Now she won’t just survive.
She’ll thrive.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
