Timing (an acrostic poem)

 

There was a rhythm to how things flowed in life

If one could anticipate the beat, one could thrive

Many tried and flailed and failed, but Ramona was a natural

It left those in the know in awe and a bit jealous

Now here she was, about to win it all and there wouldn’t be anything left

Giving in, she purposely made a mistake assuring herself a better tomorrow

 

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Clueless (an acrostic poem)

Clark studied the scene in front of him

Little things seemed out of place, but there was no smoking gun

Undeterred, he knew he would crack the case

Eventually, something would click

Leaving the perpetrator unmasked

Every murderer made a mistake, like leaving the murder weapon

Soon as Clark found it he would be one step closer

Sarah sighed when she had to point out the knife in the corpse’s back

 

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Daft (an acrostic poem)

Doomed to repeat the same mistake

Anton kept pushing his boulder up his hill

Fountain pen on paper, he began the poem once again

Though he might be insane, tonight he might have a new outcome

 

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Rejected (an acrostic poem)

Rarely was Perry at a loss for words

Everything came easy to him, sometimes too easy

Jumping from relationship to relationship, never overplaying his hand

Eventually he was going to make a mistake

Clarice was the one that got away

That’s what attracted him to her, that she pushed him away

Embarrassing him by pointing out he was not the perfect one for her

Damned if she was right, but it still hurt

 

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Shaved (an acrostic poem)

Scruffy hairs resisted his chopping

He reversed the razor and tried again

All he managed to do was cut himself

Vexed he blotted toilet paper on the mistake

Eventually, it stopped and he continued

Determined to be rid of the gray

 

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Pastries to the Rescue! (a very short story)

I’m like a broken clock, right twice a day.  Unfortunately, this was not one of them.  How did I know?  The man’s fist changing the direction my chin had been pointing mere moments earlier was my first hint.  Luckily my body is that of a trained warrior.  Well one that had way too much vodka to drink, hadn’t seen combat in the last twelve years and spent half of that time eating fancy buttery French pastries for a living.

At least gravity didn’t fail me.  I collapsed to Mother Earth’s embrace.  I must have offended her as well since her arms were so hard and cold.  I wanted to mourn this decline in our relationship when the aforementioned man decided to kick me in the gut.  That was his big mistake.  I had him right where I wanted him.  I folded myself around that foot and introduced the caught appendage to the regurgitated contents of my lunch, which included an egg sandwich encased in a wonderfully flaky croissant dosed with a lemony hollandaise.  It was so good going down, but not so much coming back the other way.

Still, that was enough to make the man yank his foot out and leave me alone.  As I laid there in my own stomach juices I wondered how this could get worse.  Then I snuffled.

Man, stomach acid and nostrils just don’t mix.

 

 

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Grammar (an acrostic poem)

Gifting the world with your awesome thoughts

Reaching deep you crafted the perfect haiku

As you hit publish, you sit back waiting for the praise to roll in

Meanwhile thousands of people wonder about you

Many let you know about the difference between your and you’re

Already too late to retract the mistake, you stamp your foot down

Ranting that it was fine since true writers no when to brake the rules