Plane (an acrostic poem)

 

Perhaps the story was a bit too flat

Letting it feel two dimensional

Allow your characters to take off and fly

Now I would also shave off a bit here and there

Eventually cutting out all the plain.

 

Image: i.pinimg.com/originals/ba/56/c5/ba56c572f993123d27cafb628bdf4405.jpg

Pipe (an acrostic poem)

 

Perhaps smoking wasn’t the best thing for Marcus’ health

It definitely meant cutting his life significantly shorter

People had warned him not to pick up the habit

Except being a dragon hunter paid so well.

 

Image: i0.wp.com/cdn-prod.medicalnewstoday.com/content/images/articles/319/319359/abstract-cigarette-smoke.jpg

 

 

Crease (an acrostic poem)

 

Cutting and tape would be cheating

Realize the Zen of proper folding

Elephants and cranes made of paper

As fingers show off their dexterity

Solemnly teasing out a third dimension from two

Evoking the surreal as its goal

 

Image: live.staticflickr.com/1927/44575115625_8844491fe1_b.jpg

Price (an acrostic poem)

 

Purchasing liberty through sacrifice

Red stained trails through foreign lands

It fulfilled a solemn oath

Cutting freedom away from the oppressor’s  grasp

Ensuring another day for democracy

 

Image:  api.time.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/09/american-flag-wind.jpg

Scar (an acrostic poem)

So much cutting in her past

Cuts that let blood and tears flow equally freely

All that was in the rear view mirror now

Rachel wore their history as a testament that there is a future

 

Image: hypnotherapists.org.uk/cms/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/selfharm.jpg

Miracle (an acrostic poem)

Misha looked back over the waves

In the distance, she could still see the fires on the shore

Reaching out, she placed a comforting hand on Herb

After everything, the two of them had been through

Cutting ties with their past and sailing into the unknown was the hardest

Last week it looked like they would both be dead in a mass grave

Even unbelievers like Misha could recognize their escape for what it was

 

Image: i.ytimg.com/vi/lidaZTgPTaw/maxresdefault.jpg

Style (an acrostic poem)

So much of her life was trying to be trending

That she almost was the epitome of cutting cultural edge

Yet there were lines she would not cross

Lest she would lose whom she was

Even if she would find out she was someone else