Chilli (an acrostic poem)

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Can’t make it hot enough to please him

He scarfs down whole scotch bonnets for breakfast

I even saw him puree ghost peppers and drink it as a smoothie

Last Superbowl was the topper.  The con carne concoction he brought was pure chemical warfare

Leaving us all to stare in awe and fear as he ate the whole thing without a single sniffle

It did come to no surprise that his intestines eventually got their revenge for his war crimes.

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

Cube (an acrostic poem)

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Cognac on the rocks was her drink of choice

Until about three in the morning, then she would bounce to bourbon

Both ice cold, just like the blood in her veins

Especially as she tossed the dice one last time with everything on the line.

Hammock (an acrostic poem)

 

Hanging in the breeze without a care in the world.

As my drink perspires from all the hard work we are doing,

My mind wanders the cosmos.

Making connections that James Burke would be proud of.  (Look him up.)

Only the rustling of leaves and birds doing actual tweets break the reverie.

Can this solace last forever?

Kidding.  Child number two flops onto me, dumping us both onto the ground.

 

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Wrecked (an acrostic poem)

Waves lapped along the shoreline

Reviving Jerod and giving him a shower he desperately needed

Everything must have gone so wrong

Collecting his thoughts he realized he couldn’t remember the night before

Kneeling, he looked around him, trying to jog something loose

Everything suddenly came back.  He couldn’t believe he was so stupid

Don’t drink a whole bottle of scotch you dumbass

 

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Blend (an acrostic poem)

Black beans poured out of the roaster, their scent filling the small room

Looking at her handiwork, Livia scooped up a sample

Every bean was slightly cracked and glistened with flavorful oils

Now that she was done, it was time for her to get a drink

Doing this kind of work usually made her thirsty for some reason

 

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Thirst (an acrostic poem)

Too many times he had gone back to the pump

He was doing it again even now

It wasn’t going to change anything.  The water wouldn’t be there

Reaching for the ancient handle, he pumped it up and down vigorously

Staring at the dusty spout, begging for a hint of liquid to form at its edge

They found him there two weeks later still searching for a drink

 

Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/bf/An_old_Hand_Pump_at_Yeleswaram.jpg

Crashed (an acrostic poem)

Cody hit the wall, then he hit the Monster Energy Drink

Rallying his remaining reserves, Cody began to code some more

As he pounded the keys, Cody realized he was even thinking in code

Still, he could feel the friction of lethargy begin to slow his neurons

He doubled down, blinking away at the ever growing wave of exhaustion

Everything became a blur, but Cody pushed even harder

Didn’t realize a keyboard could leave such an imprint on his drool  drenched cheek

 

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