Ground (an acrostic poem)

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Gripping the dirt like he was afraid to fall into the sky

Really it was his muscles clenching all at once

Outside the thunder rumbled, marking sonically where he had been zapped

Under those angry clouds, the smell of ozone persisted

Not that the people with the ski masks on noticed.  They were too busy trying to flee, but they

Didn’t have time because Thor stood back up and smiled.  “Now it’s my turn.”

Disgusting (an acrostic poem)

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Dominic looked at his fouled sneakers

It had started so simply that morning

Snuggling in his warm covers as the sunlight crept into the window

Getting up he put on his running gear and headed out to the trail

Under the red and orange leaves he began to jog

Soon his breath was ragged as he pushed himself harder and farther

That was when he felt that dreaded hard intestinal clenching

It made him stop and look around, but there were people everywhere

Now he tried to walk back, but about half way there he lost the battle

Giving the term “the runs” an added meaning