Award (an acrostic conversation)

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As I give you this certificate of competition, do you have anything to say?”

What?  Are you saying I won?”

And why would you think that?  You’re score placed you dead last”

Right, but I still get a trophy?  You know, for giving it my best shot.”

Don’t be silly.  Trophies are for winners.  You get a piece of paper with your name misspelled on it.”

Tape (an acrostic poem

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The roll was empty again, and that pissed off Heather

All she wanted was for her roommates to replace the roll when it ran out

Perhaps this would stick with them

Every roll of toilet paper, except the one she hid, was soon wrapped in scotch…

Crease (an acrostic poem)

 

Cutting and tape would be cheating

Realize the Zen of proper folding

Elephants and cranes made of paper

As fingers show off their dexterity

Solemnly teasing out a third dimension from two

Evoking the surreal as its goal

 

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Degree (an acrostic poem)

 

Diplomas carry so much weight for mere pieces of paper

Everything that goes into them distilled into a few words

Giving the holder the opportunity to advertise themselves

Revealing their skills and knowledge

Experiences woven into the very fibers

Education immortalized in the transient

 

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Change (an acrostic poem)

 

Can’t things just remain the same?

He shook his head reading the paper about another closure

As if being single wasn’t hard enough

Now where would he meet women?  He hated Tinder.

Going on Twitter just made his skin crawl

Even though this virus likely wouldn’t kill him, his love life was RIP.

 

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Paper (an acrostic poem)

Putting things in writing was what James preferred

As digital copies couldn’t be trusted

Pen scratching along a surface made something physical

Electrons changed too quickly

Really he just liked making airplanes out of his writing when it didn’t work

 

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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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Writing Craft (a 100 word story)

Tim looked at the shards and fragments of his many broken story ideas.  He poked through their remains.  Each was as pretty as a stained glass window, but every time he tried to hang one on a sheet of paper they would come crashing to earth.  Now they were just jagged pieces of color.

He almost just threw it all away when he had a thought.  He began to nudge the pieces together and laying new prose as the glue.  Soon a new, even more vibrant, picture began to emerge.

Tim wondered if that is why they called it craft.

 

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