Contrast (an acrostic poem)

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Cold, cold logic sets fire to my imagination

Oblivious to the pain, I draw out tears of joy

Nothing can stop me but myself

That’s what makes creating so hard.  It’s destroying simple things

Reaching the basic elements and then building complex structures on them

Always digging deeper and climbing higher

Searching for the thing that is always with you

That is the war of the abstract and realism that defines me

Spice (an acrostic poem)

 

She turned up the heat in the chili, drop by evil-looking drop of ghost pepper essence

Perspiration beaded along his forehead and dribbled into his eyes at first bite

It gave his body an illusion of cooling, but the heat just kept climbing

Couldn’t believe there was a time before the all-consuming fiery pain

Eventually, his mouth recovered, but he knew round two was coming

 

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Valley (an acrostic poem)

 

Vast hills of overwhelming emotions rim his psyche

All casting shadows in the depths where he lays at rest

Looking at the prospect of climbing out

Leaves him feeling exhausted before he even begins

Every step a struggle, the climb pure torture

Yet once high up in the surrounding hilltops the view of tomorrow is amazing

 

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Crest (an acrostic poem)

Climbing to the top of the wave

Releasing your fears and jumping to your feet

Everything seems so much clearer up here, almost surreal

Suddenly unsure, you begin your descent down

Then it’s time to paddle out to look for the next wave

 

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