Mast (an acrostic poem)

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Majestic wooden boats used to sail the seven seas in search of adventure and money

And of those two, money was the more important

So when the age of steam dawned on technology’s horizon, those great ships could see their time sunsetting

That’s when the magic died and shipping became not an adventure, but a commodity, a rich one.

Tempest (an acrostic poem)

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The look in his eyes forecast a storm of emotions about to hit

Everything to this point had been smooth sailing on calm seas

Mentioning her name, though, had brought a sudden change for the worse

Pushing himself up out of his chair, he leveled a finger

Everyone was quiet, waiting for the lightning bolt of his anger to strike

So when the finger went back down without a word, well everyone thought the worst had past

That’s when he took one step forward and a rain of fists poured down