Blackout Poem

Wait

it eases off.

Get home,

gathered,

very close and look up –

we find it’s all right.

Play:

they be.

For life,

but all vanished

picture faces –

matter: I do or don’t.

More,

something

out of hold

squeeze it tightly

my best,

my best life.

Opened,

something –

back at that moment –

all marchers

the room, the door, the front

rang through the outside.

I created this blackout poem from a random page of the book The Boy In The Striped Pajamas. My colleague had set this task for her students and I took it upon myself to procrastinate my own lesson planning by contributing to hers 🙂 Thanks to tsaiian for the use of your Flickr pic.