Renew (an acrostic poem)

Releasing a string of curses

Everything was going wrong

Now he looked at the ball as it began to fall

Eventually, the world would know his incompetence

When the ball landed one second early

 

Image: irishcentral.com/uploads/article/130260/cropped_Waterford-NYE-Ball-Kerry.jpg

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Curses (an acrostic poem

Can’t you just say the f word?

Uh, uh!  Not unless you say it first 

Really?  What are you, chicken?

See, you just can’t say it.  Be a grown up!

Enough, fine.  I forgive you.

See, you were wrong!

 

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Life Burns (a 100 word story)

He poked at the fire, trying to make it brighter to push back the overwhelming darkness.  Sparks danced into the air, but his feeble attempts failed to make that part of the world any more luminous.  Pissed off he unzipped and proceeded to urinate on the flames, drowning them and allowing the darkness to flood into the space.

He laughed as it so epitomized how his life treated him.

He decided to wander back to his cabin.  Being fire blinded, he tripped on a branch, falling flat on his face.  “Nope, that’s my life,” he mumbled in the fallen leaves.

 

Image: miquon.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/nighttime-campfire_e1vx-fat__F0000.png

Pastries to the Rescue! (a very short story)

I’m like a broken clock, right twice a day.  Unfortunately, this was not one of them.  How did I know?  The man’s fist changing the direction my chin had been pointing mere moments earlier was my first hint.  Luckily my body is that of a trained warrior.  Well one that had way too much vodka to drink, hadn’t seen combat in the last twelve years and spent half of that time eating fancy buttery French pastries for a living.

At least gravity didn’t fail me.  I collapsed to Mother Earth’s embrace.  I must have offended her as well since her arms were so hard and cold.  I wanted to mourn this decline in our relationship when the aforementioned man decided to kick me in the gut.  That was his big mistake.  I had him right where I wanted him.  I folded myself around that foot and introduced the caught appendage to the regurgitated contents of my lunch, which included an egg sandwich encased in a wonderfully flaky croissant dosed with a lemony hollandaise.  It was so good going down, but not so much coming back the other way.

Still, that was enough to make the man yank his foot out and leave me alone.  As I laid there in my own stomach juices I wondered how this could get worse.  Then I snuffled.

Man, stomach acid and nostrils just don’t mix.

 

 

Image: lecremedelacrumb.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/baked-croissant-breakfast-sandwiches-103.jpg

Me, Myself, and I (an acrostic poem)

Managing her many different roles

Eve wondered who she was at times

 

Maybe that’s why she was elbows deep in bows

Yearning for a hot toddy and hot daddy who wrapped her up

She could get behind the role of seductress right now, but…

Eve pulled out more tape, folded, attached

Looking at her handiwork she sighed

Fricked it up pretty good she thought.  She wasn’t a crafty, that’s for sure

 

As if on cue little footsteps began to scamper down the stairs

Now mommy mode kicked in with a dash of caught politician

Determined to stonewall the sleep-deprived toddler

 

If she just didn’t need to be so complicated…

 

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