Tempo (an acrostic poem)

Image: heidmusic.com/assets/1/14/DimRegular/Eastman_Bravo_Horn.jpg

The faster he beat the air, the more chaotic they seemed to play.

Everyone following their own beat, toes tapping in irregular rhythms.

Melody and harmony intertwined in ways not intended by any involved in its creation.

Pushing those in the audience to cringe and squirm in their seats.

Obviously, the following ovation was intense.  The musicians were kids after all.

Art (an acrostic poem)

Image: veniceclayartists.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/sculputral-glass-pieces-are-by-artist-Vladimira-Klumpar.jpg

Always creating for the sake of creation.

Reality bends to accommodate the totality of new imagination generated.

That might be the source of all the dark energy!

Gear (an acrostic poem)

Image: p1.liveauctioneers.com/5837/230510/119240482_1_x.jpg

Grabbing all the bits and bobs he might need for creation

Everything, of course, except the right batteries

And once it was together, he had no way to test it

Reaching for some wires he hot glued them onto the wrong batteries and voila!

*Do not try this. I am not condoning this. Even though it might work.

Tall (an acrostic poem)

Image: images.ctfassets.net/crvg6x0ncome/vjReHOiySvqQItl0PjayN/4a805d62ca6c040cdbde1a5a9786f3cb/Header-Fankenwheel.jpg

The height of hypocrisy was laid bare before them in all its naked glory

As they tried to figure out what tale to use to spin a cloak of fool’s gold over everything

Long into the night they schemed and wove their lies together until they were transparent and glorious

Letting them unleash their creation proclaiming the emperor is clothed

Factory (an acrostic poem)

Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/b6/Factory_1b.svg/934px-Factory_1b.svg.png

Focused on manufacturing

And maximizing profits

Creating parts and pieces for consumption

Then spitting them out into the hopefully accepting world

Ordering the chaos of creation into ridged steps

Reaching for peek throughput and yields

Yet that damn Murphy was always on the visitor’s list

Innovate (an acrostic poem)

Image: assets.entrepreneur.com/content/3×2/2000/20200316190611-GettyImages-1127257350.jpeg

It all comes down to creating something new

Not that it is easy, but with inspiration and perspiration

New things can come into existence

Of course you hope to capture lightning in a bottle

Value of your creation skyrockets, your company declared a unicorn

And you would be hailed as a genius

That is all well and good, but first do the hard part

Envision a new future and make it happen

Technology (an acrostic poem)

Image: nypost.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/11/181101-total-cost-of-iphone-feature.jpg

The mathmagicians cast their spell of logic

Electrical and mechanical design engineers took that energy and gave it physical form

Constructing a simulacrum of silicon and glass

Handing it off to the whisperers of binary

Now they coded in the soul and function of the new beast

Ordering the chaos of all the possibilities of this new creation

Lifting it from an inanimate object

Obscuring the line between animated and animator

Giving the world a new fascination that

You can hold in your hand

Loopy (a cinquain)

A cinquain is a five line poem that has the following form:

2 syllables, 4 syllables, 6 syllables, 8 syllables, 2 syllables

The author is allowed to add or subtract 1 syllable from the count for each line. I decided for my first one I would follow the purest form of a cinquain.

Image:.gannett-cdn.com/-mm-/dc5b990db220b11a655954daad45d8388b6b444d/c=0-261-5133-3161/local/-/media/2018/05/04/USATODAY/USATODAY/636610343961500870-GettyImages-508896288.jpg

The end

It’s just a start

Waiting for creation

So when you get to the ending

Begin

Dome (an acrostic poem)

 

Dim stars twinkled from far overhead

Overwhelming ancient history is written in those heavens

Mary contemplated how her short existence fit in all of that

Eventually, she embraced her cousins since they were all made of the dust of creation

 

Image: nasa.gov/sites/default/files/thumbnails/image/pillars_of_creation.jpg

Stare (an acrostic poem)

Satan couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight as humanity struggled to stand

The fallen angel laughed with contempt, God’s image indeed

All they were was an afterthought of creation

Raised to shove home the lack of free will into the faces of the angelic hosts

Even now he hated that fact because that meant he was created to fail and fall

 

Image: 4everstatic.com/pictures/abstract/eye,-flames,-darkness-130135.jpg