Operate (an acrostic poem)

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Old things had to make way for the new

Pulling back on the lever, the wrecking ball swung and smashed into the wall

Everywhere the ball hit, destruction reigned

Reducing the old structure into historic rubble

And she knew she was good at what she was doing

The crane danced to her choreography, each pirouette punctuated by the boom of connection

Enabling her to place the final period to that building’s story

Carry On(an acrostic poem)

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Cupped hands holding all the ideas I had

And I am running to find the places they all need to be planted

Reaching my first destination, I try to plant just one idea

Really screw up and most tumble through my fingers to infertile ground. Devastating!

Yet after a period of mourning I rush on, and something miraculous happens. My hands refill!

Oh if I knew ideas would repopulate I would not have been so careful in the beginning

Now you know. Rush and let your ideas scatter, and wait to see what awesomeness grows!

Week (an acrostic poem)

When seven days had gone by

Everything had changed completely

Everyone had gone full zombie on her

Killing her hopes for humanity in such a short period of time