it’s a distant memory now, how it was back then
when winning was all that mattered; that, and being right
we called it normal; normal? it was anything but that,
the whole world was divided, oh I remember when
the walls between us widened, fueled by fear and hate,
opinions were closely guarded, so as not to offend
the tender ears of faithless fools and blind-eyed sycophants,
with loyalties divided, we lost family and friends
who’d have thought a virus would make us see the light
we called it normal; normal? it was anything but that
it took a tragedy for our broken hearts to mend


Magic 11 poem – my variation on the Magic 9 poem, a 9-line poem that doesn’t have any rules as far as meter or subject matter–just a rhyme scheme: abacadaba. Enter the Magic 11 abracadabra poem with the r’s intact, placeholders for a refrain. Rhyme scheme: abRacadabRa. (R for the refrain).

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