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…

Sleep (an acrostic poem)

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Soundlessly floating among clouds of thought

Leaping from one random thing to the next, but trying to create a narrative

Eventually to his sleep-addled brain, it all made sense

Everything a flow of deranged circumstances distilled into a crazy story

Pushing slumber back into consciousness, the construct fades, but the emotional memory remains

Deadline (an acrostic poem)

Didn’t you know it?  This was going to go down to the wire

Every word was being counted, but the paper still wasn’t long enough

And he still had to organize his bibliography

Disheveled notes cluttered the floor beneath his desk

Littered with disparate ideas he was trying to weave into a coherent narrative

It almost made him cry when he thought of it.

Not getting it done would make him cry even more, though, so he kept typing

Eventually, he submitted it and began to pray.  It was late, but maybe Doc wouldn’t notice

 

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