Scale (an acrostic poem)

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So much angst when he stepped onto the platform

Cold sweat dripped down his back as the numbers cycled

All of his hard work undone by pizza and wings on his birthday

Leaving him waiting for the bad news

Except when he compared the number to that of an NFL lineman, well then he was okay

Soup (an acrostic poem)

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Slurping a liquid hug

On a cold gray dreary day

Uplifts her spirits, and she sighed contentedly

Perhaps she would be lucky and tomorrow be gloomy again

Ice (an acrostic poem)

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It was so cold outside, but he preferred to be out here shivering in physical misery

Cause she was inside

Eventually, he would have to go back in and suffer the emotional frostbite.

Spoon (an acrostic poem)

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She cuddled up to him under the covers

Pulling her body along his to get warm

Outside the wind blew and the cold rain fell

Outside the chaos of jobs and bills demanded attention and yet…

None of that mattered.  They were together in that moment

Collide (an acrostic poem)

Image: media.npr.org/assets/img/2017/10/16/neutron-merger1_wide-d8e88349132207aa90972b579dc0988c28c2d40b.jpg

Coming violently together was their usual M.O.

Obliterating everyone and everything around them with such a release of energy

Love contains almost limitless potential energy waiting to be continuously released, but…

Lust was a poor substitute with so many limits

It would be expended so quickly in a blink of an eye

Deforming each of their spirits, leaving permanent dents therein

Eventually becoming as cold as the void that remained.

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

Cereal (an acrostic poem)

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Couldn’t start her morning without the stuff

Everyday was a bowl or two of sugary goodness

Really it was also a bowl for lunch, and maybe one for a late night snack

Eventually she realized she was an addict

And tried to quit cold turkey, but that didn’t end well

Locked up after freebasing all the Captain Crunch at Walmart

Cider (an acrostic poem)

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Cold pressed apple fluids left outside in a large jug

In the dead of winter the water freezes on top

Driving the flavor into a more concentrated solution below

Each time the blah ice is then removed and the process repeats over and over for months

Rewarded finally with a fermented drink that tasted of sunny autumn days and patience