Split (an acrostic poem)

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So they planned to divide the bounty equally once they opened this chest

Pirates they may be, but they didn’t try to screw each other over, usually

Lust for gold was tempered by what the others would do if they found out

It surprised them all when they opened the chest, and nothing was there.

That’s when the guns and swords came out…

Complete (an acrostic poem)

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Carnage had been prophesied since the day of her birth

Obliterate the evil, or else she would fail, and the world would burn

Many people tried to guide her, their interests, they felt, were the same as hers

Pulling her six different ways at once, she ended up pitting them against each other

Letting their division give her the room to find her own way

Everything was going well.  The darkness was beaten back.

The final battle took place, and in the end, she was victorious

Everyone’s cheers turned to screams when she didn’t stop and began attacking them

Gear (an acrostic poem)

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Grabbing all the bits and bobs he might need for creation

Everything, of course, except the right batteries

And once it was together, he had no way to test it

Reaching for some wires he hot glued them onto the wrong batteries and voila!

*Do not try this. I am not condoning this. Even though it might work.

Passion (an acrostic poem)

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Putting the focused energy of emotion into the “thing”

And feeling like even if it doesn’t work, well you are still one step closer

Such that you recognize that the wall exists

So you can dig under it, climb over it, blow it up, make a tunnel through

If you don’t have that focus, that wall hurts to run into

Once, twice you will run into it and then wander off because it is too much

Never finding out what is on the other side

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.”

Range (an acrostic poem)

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Risking it all on a forty-footer

And as the basketball left her hand, the clocks went to all zeroes

Now it was now all physics, the skill was already committed

Google clutch, and it would show this shot if it goes in

Everyone waited seemingly forever as the ball bounced on the rim once, twice…

Catch (an acrostic poem)

Count them.  Twenty-two.  Read ’em and weep.

And that means you busted.  You lost.

That’s not right.  You speak of deceptions.  I always win.  I’m a winner

Can you follow the rules just this once?  You don’t always have to win

Ha!  That’s how a loser speaks.  I won’t fall for your trap!

 

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