Art (an acrostic poem)

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Always creating for the sake of creation.

Reality bends to accommodate the totality of new imagination generated.

That might be the source of all the dark energy!

Tool (an acrostic poem)

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The hammer felt so good in his calloused hand

Only that didn’t seem enough for this task

Opening up the metal box he reached in and pulled out a larger hammer

Looking at his source of frustration he grinned and went to work “fixing it”

Troop (an acrostic poem)

The laser fire burned the landscape around Gordon

Racing to cover he drew a bead on its source

Opening fire himself he silenced the combatant

Only that marked his own position.  Gordon felt a burn then nothing evermore

Pushing past his eternal vigil, the rest of the platoon didn’t have time to mourn

 

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