Mist (an acrostic poem)

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Morning sunrise had its glory diminished by the fog wrapping the ground

It gave the world a sense of magical wonder

So rewarding those awake to witness the scene

That still isn’t enough to make me wake up that early voluntarily

Flame (an acrostic poem)

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Fire climbing high into the sky

Lighting her eyes in a way that was magical

And the image made his heart skip a beat

Maybe that’s why it didn’t hurt as much

Even as the knife plunged deep into his chest

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

West (an acrostic poem)

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Watching the sun make its escape as it sinks beneath the horizon

Everything becomes more magical in that twilight moment

Snippets and whispers of other realms peek from beyond the veil

That opportunity sets as darkness brings down the curtain

Ray (an acrostic poem)

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Ribbons of light cascade down between the dark clouds

As the teardrop remnants of rain drip from outstretched leaves

Yielding a gleaming, magical moment

Elf (an acrostic poem)

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Everyone thinks just because you have pointy ears, you’re magical

Let me tell you, we are only qualified for two things

Fighting orcs or wrapping presents, and I hate goddamn bows!

Pretty (a 100 word story)

Lincoln believed he was very confident in who he was, but still had this aching desire to be called pretty by someone.  Hell, anyone.  He was called many things, but never that magical word.

Finally, after a long time of searching everywhere, he finally heard the words, “You are pretty, Lincoln.”  It put such a huge smile on his face.

He wished he could have hugged the man in the mirror who said it, but instead he wrapped his arms around himself.  It might not be much, but it was a start.

He had to be the first to believe.

 

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Cast (an acrostic poem)

Concrete concepts about ethereal energies

Allowed Marcus to start to subtle shades of unseeable colors

So he sent his will into the void to draw a picture of what he wanted

The art bloomed into reality.  It was magical

 

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