Here is a concrete poem about terrorism. It’s supposed to be in the shape of a machine gun (if it formats properly).
a great command
bullets fly past
a vest underneath
in their firm hand
what we don’t know
we don’t dare to ask
prayers raised in unison
wishing the situation away
but it doesn’t.
the switch can come undone at any moment, changing lives forever
now ears ring and smoke billows mercilessly as people shout for help
bloodied bodies and persons emerge in shock,
covered in debris, glass, moaning for mercy
upon them that they don’t die in this attack
prayers for family members nearby
as people shout the names of their loved ones, moving things around
prepared for the worst
we watch the news helpless
hoping everyone is safe and sound
that fatalities are minor people survive
from homes we pray it would all just go away.