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

Fork (an acrostic poem)

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Focusing all his attention on his spaghetti,

Oliver slowly twirled the utensil on top of his spoon,

Revolving strand after strand around their tines,

Knowing that he was breaking his dead Italian grandfather’s heart.

Collar (an acrostic poem)

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Can’t stand having something around my neck

Only I don’t get much choice in this gig

Living for the church was not going to be my style

Living dead come into the equation

And I had to sign up, so now I’m a holy man

Relax baby, I only baptize with a shotgun and cross with my saber

Parrots (an acrostic conversation)

 

Perhaps he is just sleeping.

And that’s the excuse you want to go with?

Really, he could be just catching some shut-eye.

Realize that I have watched the Monty Python skit like a billion times.

Oh, then yeah, he’s dead

That was anticlimactic.

So do you want to start it from the top again?

 

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Rise Up (an acrostic poem)

Reach deep down inside of you when you feel dead

It’s there where you’re power resides

Set it loose upon your world

Everyone will fear your inner zombie

 

Undead and dangerous, you climb out of your energy grave

Pushing upright you shuffle off to find your brains

 

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Ghost (an acrostic poem)

Going dead was such a drag

Having no sensations other than mind-numbing pain

Or the inability to have any strong emotions

So Wendy just haunted her surroundings

The way their daughter just floated through her days confused Wendy’s parents

 

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Costly (an acrostic poem)

Casualty numbers kept trickling in

Obscuring the greatness of the victory

Still, Vincent had to admit he’d lost over a quarter of his troops

They sold their lives dearly though

Littering the fertile fields with their enemy’s dead

Years later the soil still held the scent of their sacrificial blood

 

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Dust (an acrostic poem)

Dirt coated the remnants of civilization

Underneath the grime, the dead cars told a story

Silhouettes burned into the pavement eternally listened

The wind moaned at the ending

 

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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

 

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