Rumble (an acrostic poem)

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Reaching for the door he stumbled and fell

Under his prone body, the earth danced and shook

Maybe it was the rum shots of rum, but he then saw a painting fall

Being of not-so-sound mind, he laughed at the irony

Liquid courage surged through his veins as he managed to stand again

Except that’s when the house fell around him, so he joined it and cried.

Grain (an acrostic poem)

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Growing rows of amber waved in the hot wind

Reaching for one of the sheathes, she pulled the kernels free

And rubbed them against each other in her hands, freeing the seeds from their husks

It released a wonderful smell of summer turning toward fall

Nodding she walked back to the farmhouse.  Tomorrow they would harvest.

Work (an acrostic poem)

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Whitlling away at his soul to earn sustenance

Only he never felt sustained

Reaching lower and lower depths of despair

Knowing eventually he will fall out the bottom and drop into nothingness

Paper (an acrostic poem)

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Pushing a pile of it across her desk back in 2019

All she wanted was to bury her head and ignore the rest of it

Perhaps somehow find a wormhole in reality and fall in

Emerging in her house, free from any of those damn dead trees

Reality hit her during the pandemic.  Electrons were even worse than …

Ground (an acrostic poem)

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Gripping the dirt like he was afraid to fall into the sky

Really it was his muscles clenching all at once

Outside the thunder rumbled, marking sonically where he had been zapped

Under those angry clouds, the smell of ozone persisted

Not that the people with the ski masks on noticed.  They were too busy trying to flee, but they

Didn’t have time because Thor stood back up and smiled.  “Now it’s my turn.”

Chain (an acrostic Poem)

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Connecting the dots ways always the easy part

Hard part was then making the dominoes fall in order

As so many factors had to be juggled for the Rube Goldberg plan to work

It was almost something straight from a summer blockbuster

Not that he had to worry about.  The first link broke leaving him dreaming of what might have been

Balance (an acrostic poem)

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Born to teeter-totter through life

Always trying to find equilibrium

Longing to stay in the center

And yet we usually over compensate

Now we smash side to side farther and farther as we get older

Considering it a right of passage imparting some magical wisdom and yet

Eventually we all fall down

Plan (an acrostic poem)

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Putting together ideas that function in lock step

Letting the dominos fall till their inevitable conclusion is so satisfying

And yet, without question, something will not go as you projected

Now how you engineer what comes after is a true test of your design

Sprint (an acrostic poem)

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Scurrying thoughts running crazy inside his head

Put him on his mental treadmill, trying to exercise them away

Reaching an exhaustion level that would allow him to fall unconscious

It sometimes worked, but tonight the ideas and thoughts were too fast

Not that he gave up dashing after them, but waking hours passed slowly

That’s what made the alarm the next morning such a rude starting pistol for the new day