Did she think she could just dress me any way she wants to?
Of course I have an opinion. It’s my body!
Leave me alone and let me live my life the best I can
Look, if you can’t handle that I will go all Chucky on you!
Doll (an acrostic poem)
Tag Archives: handle
Handle (an acrostic poem)
Holding onto her with both hands, not wanting to ever let her go
And yet there she was, spinning away from me, somehow slipping from my grasp
Now I tried to catch her, I tried so hard
Didn’t stand a chance, though
Life slowed down as she fell to the pavement and shattered
Ever since then, I put my cellphone in a case with a…
Spoons (an acrostic poem)
So far much can you handle today?
Perhaps it is one or two more than yesterday
Or maybe it is a half dozen less
Or maybe you threw them all in the wash and need to sit out a bit
Nobody can tell you how many you have at your disposal
So do what you can and know that it’s okay
Fancy (an acrostic poem)
Focusing on the boring fundamentals was not his strong suit
All he wanted to do was gild the lily with as much gold as it could handle
Nothing made him happier than making those around him not feel plain
Causing them to bloom and allowing him to make them sparkle even more
Yet when he looked into the mirror he didn’t see anything …
Pump (an acrostic poem)
Pushing the handle up and down
Usually, Diane didn’t care, and she would just leave
Maybe someday that will be the case again
Praying that day would be soon since it seemed she was out of sanitizer
Image: img.waimaoniu.net/1125/1125-201903021125023872.jpg
Mug (an acrostic poem)
Mulled spices dance among the hot apple cider
Under the curling steam rising over the ceramic
Grabbing the handle, I bring it to my lips and enjoy
Image: i2.wp.com/www.thatskinnychickcanbake.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/Mulled-Cider-660×440.jpg
RIP (an acrostic poem)
Raising the casket onto his shoulder worried Bart, so he made sure to crouch down
Inside was Uncle Ken, and while Bart loved him for his sense of humor, he was quite a load
Pulling up hard, Bart felt his pants tear in the seat and knew Ken was laughing. He joined in.
Image: thenypost.files.wordpress.com/2018/09/man-sues-funeral-home-for-allegedly-putting-wrong-corpse-in-casket.jpg
Yawn (an acrostic poem)
You would think your body could handle it
And it might have if you had slept last night
Why else would you be sitting there with your mouth wide open
Now you get to explain it to your blind date
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
Never Short On Words 