dreaming of clearing skies
the air is heavy from constant
bombardment
rolling in every three or four days
like a recurring freight train
there’s plenty to do besides
worry and wait
and it matters not if you think
more of less about the next
certain lethal blast
on clear and silent nights
children gaze at the stars in
amazement
curiously wondering if they too
were made by man
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
I love the way you dropped the bomb[ardment] onto its own line, drawing out the bard inside. Same with the maze down lower.
I’m picturing a poetry labyrinth, a competition (like the triwizard tournament in The Goblet of Fire). The contestants can’t see each other, just (what’s) up.
“Goblet.” I like that word. And your poem. Fantastic.
thank you Shawna for sharing your thoughts on this one ~ it’s very much appreciated!
Lovely poetry
thank you very much
This one really resonated!Bravoo!
Thanks so much, Sofia! Always a pleasure seeing you here!