My poetry tends to go on and on... but I must admit I like short poems. I think it is often more effective to say something pertinent and meaningful in 4 lines than in 40.
This is my shortest poem, at two stanzas in length. I'm reasonably happy with it:
this is the way
The world corrupts, the world corrupts and falls,
and bright hoar ice inscribes the standing stones
about this place of death, this place of loss,
with veins of crackling cold, the script of time
writ large upon the silent graves around.
For we, the unfulfilled, that linger long,
too long, upon this whittling witless world,
yet know the truth that lies beneath our own
low pulse, that day by day counts out our lives.
It is the secret silence and the maw,
the fateful tick, the tock, and nothing more.


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