Making all your shots is impossible
It is incredible if you make more than half
So why beat yourself up when you fail once in a while
Stop that, pick yourself up, and try again
Monthly Archives: May 2023
Plus (an acrostic poem)
Putting things together is something I do all the time
Lets me add all the nuances I think I need
Until I start to subtract by adding too much
So am I good at knowing when that happens? No, but when I do learn it, it will be a huge…
Friends (an acrostic poem)
Finding your people is an important task
Resulting in stability in an otherwise unstable world
It was time-consuming, nerve-racking, and sometimes difficult
Even when you stumble upon the perfect candidates, the work has just begun
Now you have to make time and not let life and family and work and, and, and,
Distract you from keeping those connections from atrophying
So how are you doing today, my …
Numb (an acrostic poem)
No feelings, this way the pain and depression can’t get you
Under the haze of nothingness, you try to coast through life
Mumbling what you hope are sympathetic phrases to those around you.
Believing that this was the only way to make it through.
Rumble (an acrostic poem)
Reaching for the door he stumbled and fell
Under his prone body, the earth danced and shook
Maybe it was the rum shots of rum, but he then saw a painting fall
Being of not-so-sound mind, he laughed at the irony
Liquid courage surged through his veins as he managed to stand again
Except that’s when the house fell around him, so he joined it and cried.
Rum (an acrostic poem)
Reaching for the bottle and pouring out a healthy shot
Under the full moon on a tropical beach
Maybe this summons the spirit of a legendary pirate, or at least a wannabe one who can dance
Flabbergasted (an acrostic poem)
Focused on the end result was what got him through life.
Living moment to moment, always marching toward the end goal of the moment.
And that’s why he sat there in utter shock.
Because his plans had just been shattered into a million pieces.
Blooming into millions of new problems that he had no answers for.
Everything he had meticulously set up.
Reaching for the half-empty whiskey bottle, he took another long pull.
Going to be a long night trying to figure all this out again.
And if that wasn’t crazy enough, he now had people trying to call him day and night.
So that they could be part of it all, part of the rebuild.
That made it worse since he had always had to do it on his own, so their help now seemed disingenuous.
Every day from now on will be even more difficult
Don’t win the lottery. That should have been his first rule.
Year (an acrostic poem)
You all said it couldn’t be done.
Every single one of you bet against me.
And now here we are, 365 days later, and what do you have to say now?
Really? Told you so? I thought you might have a bit more sympathy since I failed so miserably
Born (an acrostic poem)
Beginnings are always rough
Of course that doesn’t make the middles any easier
Really the endings can be difficult too.
Not that you need to worry. You were ready the day you were…
Optical (an acrostic poem)
Overhead the clouds obscured the sun
Putting mute the prism’s ability to split light into colors
That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the thing
It allowed her to see shapes in mind-bending ways
Causing her to giggle with delight
And when the sun finally did come out…
Light was cleaved into a rainbow, and she got to be a leprechaun. Now where was that gold?
Never Short On Words 