Falling
Into Place
The blocks of blue begin to cascade down
upon the field of greyish stones. A red
and opposite persona, new to town,
melts into several yellow blocks of lead.
The pieces rain faster, flooding grey
and blood-stained stones with colors, covering
punch marks made earlier today
in childish frustration. Screams in ears still ring.
Yet when the long blue slice of victory signs
comes crashing down, the magic sound of CHLING
is followed by four vanishing, long lines.
The stack goes down; I’m now the Tetris king.
The stressful load’s removed, and blocks still fall,
but with some skill, the stack will not be tall.
(About this poem: This is a non-traditional sonnet about the game Tetris. It's non-traditional in the sense that it's not serious or about love, but it still follows the general form of a Shakespearean Sonnet.)
