Carbon (an acrostic poem)

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Couldn’t see flaws in the diamond on her finger

And he looked hard as he held her hand

Reality sometimes was hard to pencil into a narrative that worked for him

But he usually found a way to turn the coal in his stocking into something way more valuable

On this occasion, he turned his smile up to eleven to see if that would strike a shattering blow

Nothing could deviate her attention from her fiancé.  The boy, on the other hand…

Prime (an acrostic poem)

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Putting all her chips on lucky thirteen.

Roulette rewarded the three to five people who carried luck in their back pocket.

It made one wonder if they were a part of that club.

Maybe it was too much to count on since her skirt didn’t even have a front pocket, much less two.

Eventually, the ball landed on eleven, ending her night.  Time to hit the buffet and eat some of that beef.

Race (an acrostic poem)

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Reach down deep and push it to eleven

As you speed forward toward the finish line

Carving out your niche in history

Expect your victory parade

Loud (an acrostic poem)

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Living life with the volume cranked to eleven

Obliterating reality around him

Until it is all just white noise in the background

Determined that his echo will be heard long after he was gone

Amazed (an acrostic poem)

Above the clouds was usually a peaceful place

Maybe it was because everyone was plugged into their own world

All the passengers had headphones on or their nose in a book

Zoey smiled at being so close to so many and yet so alone

Eleven hours more to go of this before she had to interact again

Determined to enjoy every moment of this Zen

 

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