Crisp (an acrostic poem)

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Cider so hard you need a hammer and chisel to drink it

Resulting in puckered lips that would make an Instagram influencer jealous

It leaves an impression on the consumer’s soul

Searing the memory of that tree, that branch, that fruit, that moment

Permanently into your psyche

Woods (an acrostic “groanversation”)

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Where be the trees?  I cannot see them because of this forest!”

Oy vey!  I should have known you would branch down that path.”

Okay, I see your timber, but don’t worry.  I’m not going to leaf you there.”

Don’t go farther.  My bark is worst than my bite and I am getting pretty hungry.”

So I shouldn’t tell you about how thicket’s getting around here?”

Run Away (an acrostic poem)

Really Paul knew he should get out of there

Undercaffeinated and out of time

Nothing left in reserves

 

And yet here he was, a flaming branch in one hand

Watching the monster squint in his direction

All he wanted to do was to wake up from this nightmare

Yet he knew his alarm clock was never going to go off again

 

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Pressure (an acrostic poem)

Pushing on through the pain was Geoff’s forte

Running through the low bushes scrapped his legs raw

Every breath was labored, oxygen a rare commodity

Sounds of pursuit began to grow

Sending Geoff into more of a panic

Urging more speed from his spent limbs, he tumbled to the ground

Realizing fleeing was no longer an option, Geoff stood up, picking up a branch

Even a lump of coal could become a diamond.  Time to see what he was made of

 

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