The Beat Down
I walk down a street I know well. Nervous
because the dangers have become too real.
Love and honor are now just lip service.
I blink, I am surrounded. “Here’s the deal.”
the mob says. All I feel is someone’s heel
connect to the back of my knee. I fall.
Concrete scraping my cheek. One against all.
In the fetal position I return.
Kicks and blows fall, I am now a rag doll.
Bones match a heart broken. Why is love spurned?
Poetic Form #37: Dizain
A dizain poem is one 10-line stanza, with 10 syllables per line and the followingababbccdcd rhyme scheme.
No comments:
Post a Comment