Slice (an acrostic poem)

She held the knife in two hands like a samurai sword.

Looking at the watermelon, her sworn enemy, she bowed her head.

It was going to be a battle to the death, but she didn’t feel like dying tonight!

Cutting deftly, the watermelon never had a chance and soon it was bleeding chunks on her counter.

Extremely happy with herself, she popped a piece in her mouth and spit out the seeds.

Agent (an acrostic poem)

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All the queen’s men stood tall; heads bowed low

Giving respect for the pine box being carried between them

Every eye was dry, but their hearts wept with each beat  

Nothing was more important than being there to respect their fallen comrade

Then they would go out into the world and exact revenge