Hovel (an acrostic poem)

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Home is home, but sometimes you just live in a place

Outside is allowed to get ragged, inside things are just left where they are

Vistas of unkept memories and mementos cast aside without a care

Eclipsing all hopes of doing something about it, to make it a livable space

Leaving you to wonder if it is just a condemned dwelling, or a wasted life

Digger (an acrostic poem)

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Dirt packed under his ragged fingernails

It was something he prided himself on

Grabbing the wrench he went back to work

Giving another shot at fixing the old backhoe

Even though the brand new one sat right next to it

Really didn’t want to let his dear friend go quite yet

Disgusting (an acrostic poem)

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Dominic looked at his fouled sneakers

It had started so simply that morning

Snuggling in his warm covers as the sunlight crept into the window

Getting up he put on his running gear and headed out to the trail

Under the red and orange leaves he began to jog

Soon his breath was ragged as he pushed himself harder and farther

That was when he felt that dreaded hard intestinal clenching

It made him stop and look around, but there were people everywhere

Now he tried to walk back, but about half way there he lost the battle

Giving the term “the runs” an added meaning