Coughing white steam while walking
Oblivious to the icicles forming his beard
Losing feeling in all exposed body parts
Deciding the Caribbean was a place he needed to be
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Monthly Archives: January 2019
Bat (an acrostic poem)
Bashing zombie heads with a glorious ash wood barrel
Amy felt the most alive fighting for her life, but then she got bit
That’s why she felt dead when she arose the next day after
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Bridge (an acrostic poem)
Building a way across the political divide takes hard work
Republicans and Democrats listening to each other
Informed compromise forged in the fires of healthy debate
Determined to leave something solid and structurally sound
Giving everyone a path into the future
Especially those being left at the side of the road
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Lame (an acrostic poem)
Limping into work, Liza felt crappy
As she got to her desk she got a call that she needed to go to HR
Manager there told her she was being let go because of an inappropriate joke
Eventually, she stumbled home, physically, mentally, and emotionally…
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Manic (an acrostic poem)
Marty hung his head low and almost sobbed
As if it couldn’t get any worse, Heather would soon be there
Now how was he going to face her like this
It also meant that she wanted to come over, so that was exciting
Clutching himself he started to laugh with excitement
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Punch (an acrostic poem)
Pounding back the sugary alcohol
Until my eyes cross from both drugs hitting my system
Now he gets into my space and spits in my face
Could barely stand I was so bad off, but I could only take so much
Hitting him in the mouth put him in the same state as I as we both fell down
Image: cdn.liquor.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/dales-rainbow-planters-punch-recipe.jpg
Cents (an acrostic poem)
Counting the pennies of each minute
Every one of them needed to be pried out of his arthritic hands
Never once did he give out his opinion easily
Two pieces of precious copper seemed two too many
So he hoarded his moments, his thoughts his treasure trove
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The Spice of Life (a 100 word story)
When Glenda put the curse on Bill he just laughed it off. He was doomed to not be able to taste salt, ever. He could put the whole shaker right on his tongue, but nothing would happen.
Bill thought this was the lamest curse, but over time he found himself eating less and less. He didn’t bother going out to dinner anymore. There was never any joy in food. Other tastes faded into monotony.
His life devolved into the blandness he experienced eating. He went to ask forgiveness, but Glenda passed away weeks before.
All he could say was, “Blah.”
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Snowday (an acrostic poem)
Shivering, watching the ice crystals dance
No way I was going outside in that
Ordinarily, the precipitation wouldn’t be that bad
What was bad was the bundled cold with it
Deathly wind chill well below what was safe
And so I will sit here by the fire
Yet I know soon the white stuff will need to be shoveled
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Shout (an acrostic poem)
Standing firm in what he knew he needed to do, oblivious of physical demands
He loudly proclaimed his message of doom to all those that would hear
Obviously ignoring to the snickers and rude comments of the passers-by
Unable to understand why his message did not find fertile soil
The stain on his trousers spoke louder.
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Never Short On Words 