Factory (an acrostic poem)

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Focused on manufacturing

And maximizing profits

Creating parts and pieces for consumption

Then spitting them out into the hopefully accepting world

Ordering the chaos of creation into ridged steps

Reaching for peek throughput and yields

Yet that damn Murphy was always on the visitor’s list

Putter Clutter (a 100 word story)

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He looked at the clutter around him.  Neglected, half-finished dreams littered the desk, table, and sections of the floor.  At one point each project had held so much life and promise, but now they were on life support, or worse yet zombified corpses.  He wondered what was the best approach going forward.  Maybe he should just put everything away and pull out pieces when he was ready to resurrect them, but that would mean confronting his failures, and he wasn’t emotionally prepared to do that just yet.  Besides, he had a brand new idea, and he knew it would work.

Dance (an acrostic poem)

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Deep bass notes punctuated the melody

Announcing it was time to get up

Nascent instincts awaken and bodies begins to move

Creating a kinetic ephemeral work of art

Even though some of the pieces need some tweaking

Story (an acrostic poem)

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Solid pieces of imagination

That are forced into reality through the writer’s skill and anxiety

Order forged out of the chaos of emotions

Released into the world to live or die upon the whims of readers

Yet likely the author will mourn either way

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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Drop (an acrostic poem)

 

Didn’t think the fall would be that bad

Rolling to a stop that hard

Or finding pieces of yourself scattered across the pavement

Perhaps that’s why it takes something special to be a rain…

 

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Broken (an acrostic poem)

Belief was sometimes such a fragile thing

Relying on just your faith that everything will be okay

Outside forces were always tearing at that virtual support

Keeping it under assault, looking for the smallest of cracks

Enlarging them until the whole thing falls into pieces

Nothing could ever put you back together completely and make you whole again

 

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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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Cents (an acrostic poem)

Counting the pennies of each minute

Every one of them needed to be pried out of his arthritic hands

Never once did he give out his opinion easily

Two pieces of precious copper seemed two too many

So he hoarded his moments, his thoughts his treasure trove

 

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