Break (an acrostic poem)


Baby porcelain doll, the last one her daughter had ever held, burst into sharp shards as it hit the floor

Releasing so many emotions in her, some she thought she had closed within that small casket

Everyone around her just stopped and stared, silent, not knowing what to do or say

As she watched those pieces scatter she started drowning in a psychological flood

Keeping the tears away was impossible as she felt something inside of her…

Phone (an acrostic poem)


Perhaps the most antiquated name for such a modern device

Here is a pocket supercomputer

Or a way to send text messages around the globe in a blink of an eye

No one thinks its primary function is to hold a voice conversation anymore

Everyone keeps it on silent and never answers anyway

Throw (an acrostic poem)


Tossing insults like darts and getting bullseyes

He smiled at the silent marks drinking their cheap whiskey from the bottle

Reaching for a cigarette, he lit it and blew smoke at them

Only there still wasn’t a peep.  He closed his eyes and took another drag

Which is why he didn’t see the bottle fly into his nose

Stars (an acrostic poem)

So many distant suns twinkling as they watch from above

They escort the night across the sky

Arriving at the horizon to be relieved of their duty

Resting till called upon as their little sister fades to black

Silent sentries stoic in their duty



A Modern Parable

Bite sized stories didn’t grow on trees, but this one was nuts.  A little boy went to school wearing his sister’s dress.  He kept a determined but thoughtful look on his face as he entered the school.

There were some giggles around the room when he entered.  His teacher stopped what she was doing.  ”Why are you wearing a dress?”

The little boy just shrugged his shoulders and didn’t say anything.  The teacher stared at him for a moment to see if he would say more, but he stood there silently so she decided to let it go.

At lunch time it was raining, so everyone stayed inside.  The little boy’s friends started laughing out loud when he sat at their cafeteria table.  “What?” he asked.

“Come on, why the dress?” asked Shelia.

“He wants to be closer to his mommy,” said Steve as he picked at his nose.

“Nah, his mamma is so stupid she put the wrong clothes on him after taking a hit of meth,” said Zoltan.

“Come on man,” repeated Shelia.  “Why the dress?”

Still the little boy said nothing and just ate his lunch.  He suffered many more insults, but through it all he was quiet, just occasionally shrugging his shoulders.

After school, before he walked off school grounds, the local bully pushed him from behind.  “What’s up with your clothes?” he guffawed.  The little boy tried to rush away, but the bully pushed the little boy in the back again, causing him to almost fall down.  “I think you forgot your bra.”

The little boy turned and stared the bully right in the face.  Then he shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave.

The bully struck him to the side of his head, throwing the little boy down into a large mud puddle.  “Awe, looks like the little girl is all dirty.”

The little boy sat up in the mud puddle and shrugged his shoulders.  The bully flipped him the bird and spit at him before finally leaving him alone.

The little boy picked himself out of the mud puddle and waddled his way home, his shoes squishing drown water with every step.  His ear bled for a while from where his earlobe had split from the bully’s hit.  Many people stared at him as he continued his walk, but they were silent, not knowing how to approach such a different sight.  In a way he was happy about it, but in a way it hurt him that no one stopped him to find out what was wrong.  He eventually shrugged his mental shoulders and moved on.

The little boy finally got home.  His sister was there with her arms crossed and her frown turning angrier when she saw what state her dress was in.  Before she could say anything the little boy broke into sobbing tears and ran up to her, smothering her with a fierce hug.

His sister was confused, but eventually returned the hug back.  She was quiet as he exhausted his anguish on her.  Finally when he started to calm down she held him out at arm’s length.  She looked him in the eyes and asked him one word, “Why?”

The boy shrugged then shook his head no.  “You told me last night that to know what someone goes through you need to walk a mile in their shoes.  I decided I would kick it up a notch.”

His sister was about to say something when he cut her off.  “And man, you must be tough if crap like that happens to you every day.”

She opened her mouth to say one thing, then changed her mind with a shake of the head.  She instead smiled and wiped away a bit of the caked dirt from her dress.  “Yep, it can be tough.”

The little boy nodded and walked with his sister into the house, his shoulders held high.



Quiet (an acrostic poem)

Quorum was reached without a single word said

United they cast their reticent votes into the hat

It would only be a few silent moments before the whole thing was over

Even though the ramifications would echo unspoken for years

Too bad the rest of the group was tone deaf to the problem



Wanting to Scream

Margret meandered down the hallway, not looking at anyone in particular, but trying to memorize how each face perceived her.  Her sudden head swings tried to take it all in, documenting for her future self how others looked into her eyes.  Couldn’t they see it?  It was right in front of them, but the pity she saw in those that would look into her eyes was so shallow that they would never find the depths where she hid her soul.  Margret wished she could just scream, but she knew no words would come out.  Everyone knew that about her.  Just when it was about to get too painful to bear, Christopher came around the corner.  He placed his muscular arm around her and began to guide her back to her room.  She began to cry silently as always.  Chris leaned in close.  “It’ll be okay,” he said to everyone watching the spectacle.  Soon they were back to her room, and Chris picked Margret up and placed her on her bed.  “It’ll be all better in a bit,” he said as he closed her door, staying in her room.  Margret tried to scream, but her voice betrayed her, just like Chris.