The cement company shows up at the city's largest park and goes to work.
Some mistake the river for a sidewalk and drown.
Lines are down.
Across the city, cement birds fly out of telephones and crash heavily into framed landscapes which fall from the wall.
At the park, work continues.
Cement children appear, presenting cement bouquets.
Cement adults are charmed.
The sun, also cement now, shines down, strangely cheerful.
Look at the city we have made, say the workmen.
Come and live with us
Among the statues.
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For dverse poetics. A--ahem--"concrete" poem I wrote in 1980. I realize a new poem was expected, but i just couldn't resist. Sorry not sorry. :-P
Note: from what I understand, the difference between cement and concrete is that concrete has stones and stuff in it. You can pave your walk with either, but avoid using abstract. Still not sorry.
This fits the prompt so well, I am glad you linked it up! Kind of like the story of the Midas Touch, only with cement instead of gold...
ReplyDeleteToo funny! Careful not to step in it today, rumor has it cure hasn’t happened and rain is forecast. Not sorry.
ReplyDeleteFortunately not actively drinking coffee when I started reading and recognized your devious ways at work. But aside from the trademark Fireblossom play on the form's title, the poem here is solid as....rock(I avoid temptation) and certainly is perfect for the form without a single word change. It's amazingly visual as well, as I saw everything described as if in a photo, down to the bouquets of the concrete children. Actually, a chilling poem about living in a world without life and feeling for me, despite the satirical afterburn. A lovely "leper's squint" to this, dry and all pervasive like a world turned not to stone, but merely to the less-enduring manmade substitute.
ReplyDeleteHah-- we went the same place with the prompt! Nothing like concrete for a Concrete poem! This is beautifully ambiguous--the bright joy of the park against the heavy oppression of the material. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteLove it.
ReplyDeleteFireblossom... this is ingenious - you destroyed the prompt.
ReplyDelete-David [ben Alexander]
A wile twist on the prompt - I can see why you were impervious to the draw of posting this one - it adds another layer (that I assume is made of cement). The world is grey and imposing, the sculptors thumbs pressing deep (again, I assume into cement). I’m left standing the stark end of the piece, feeling I’ve turned to stone (nope, just checked, no stones, I’m cement).
ReplyDeleteIt's like a surreal painting, an illusion of all is well when in fact, it couldn't be more man-made and devoid of real feeling. In that way, kind of psychologically disturbing! Always worth sharing even if pre-written. Some pieces deserve to be aired and reshared.
ReplyDeleteI think we are already doing this to ourselves... becoming concrete.
ReplyDeleteHow clever this is...we are all cement and statues then. A devious commentary on our world - I agree!
ReplyDelete"Across the city, cement birds fly out of telephones and crash heavily into framed landscapes which fall from the wall."
ReplyDeleteas if straight out of a salvador dali painting. i like your use of surrealism and absurdism in this concrete poem... very well done.
Brilliant my friend!! You had to use this poem for the prompt it rocks! Sorry not sorry!
ReplyDeleteyour write brings wit and wry and wisdom ~
ReplyDelete