Crunch (an acrostic poem)

 

Chewing through the textures dancing in my mouth

Reveling in the amount of noise that escapes my piehole

Until everything Is broken down into the mush my stomach desires

Necessitating another bite of that audio and physical harmony

Chomping down on another symphony of mastication

Hope there are many encores!

 

Image: irepo.primecp.com/2016/11/307530/Crispy-Crunchy-Fried-Chicken_ExtraLarge1000_ID-1965314.jpg?v=1965314

Pride (an acrostic poem)

 

Popping his shirt in victory

Regaling his opponent with trash talk

It would make most people sick to their stomach

Doing it to his twelve-year-old son, well that was over the top

Extreme hubris was his specialty, and this was his teaching moment

 

Image: cra-basketball.co.uk/basketball-images/basketball-tile-surface.jpg

Split (an acrostic alliteration)

 

So all this preponderance of togetherness made Pete practically sick to his poor stomach

Pushing people away was what Pete was professional at

Leave him in a group of pleasantly participating people

It was doomed to pyrotechnics and pointless pugilism

Then he would peace out, professing he had to pee.

 

Image: d2725vydq9j3xi.cloudfront.net/production/media/lawyer_schwartz/images/contract_tearing.2e16d0ba.fill-1140×400.jpg

Villain (an acrostic poem)

Venomous words spewed with intense malice

It made the whole encounter even more toxic

Leaving me looking for the exit

Lo, there was no exit to be found

As I was cut off by more vile miscreants

It made me sick to my stomach

Now just because I had poisoned their water supply…

 

Image: farm9.staticflickr.com/8557/29777065100_20fd4a4346_b.jpg

Green Power (an acrostic poem)

Getting your start in a new subject was never easy

Retching the contents of her stomach emphasized that

Eventually, she wandered back to the festivities at the town square

Everyone had finished setting up their ecological project posters

Now that made her more envious than she thought possible.

 

Pushing that all aside she still had a strong project

Oil didn’t have clout here unless you put olive in front of it, which she did

When the judging panel saw her project on using it to make electricity

Even the capability to use nasty congealed stuff from the local restaurants

Really it was impossible not to see its potential so she came in first

 

Image: gardenerspath.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/Olives-Are-Easy-to-Grow-in-the-Right-Location.jpg

Snack Free (an acrostic poem)

Soooooo hungry

Nibbling on fresh air

And that was not satisfying

Craving sustenance

Knowing nothing was coming

 

Finding willpower

Reaching for a cup of tea

Everything will be okay

Even if his stomach disagreed

 

Image: previews.123rf.com/images/fabrikacrimea/fabrikacrimea1710/fabrikacrimea171002949/87217870-salty-snacks-pretzels-chips-crackers.jpg

Soured (an acrostic poem)

Sweet nothings flowed from his mouth­

Obvious to her now, he didn’t mean a thing he said

Until that moment she thought they had a chance

Reality left a bitter taste in her mouth, and her stomach roiled

Exacerbating the situation further he kept staring at her friend’s chest

Displeased with the whole situation she left him stranded at the party

 

Image: clipartstation.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/sour-food-clipart-1.jpg

Pastries to the Rescue! (a very short story)

I’m like a broken clock, right twice a day.  Unfortunately, this was not one of them.  How did I know?  The man’s fist changing the direction my chin had been pointing mere moments earlier was my first hint.  Luckily my body is that of a trained warrior.  Well one that had way too much vodka to drink, hadn’t seen combat in the last twelve years and spent half of that time eating fancy buttery French pastries for a living.

At least gravity didn’t fail me.  I collapsed to Mother Earth’s embrace.  I must have offended her as well since her arms were so hard and cold.  I wanted to mourn this decline in our relationship when the aforementioned man decided to kick me in the gut.  That was his big mistake.  I had him right where I wanted him.  I folded myself around that foot and introduced the caught appendage to the regurgitated contents of my lunch, which included an egg sandwich encased in a wonderfully flaky croissant dosed with a lemony hollandaise.  It was so good going down, but not so much coming back the other way.

Still, that was enough to make the man yank his foot out and leave me alone.  As I laid there in my own stomach juices I wondered how this could get worse.  Then I snuffled.

Man, stomach acid and nostrils just don’t mix.

 

 

Image: lecremedelacrumb.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/baked-croissant-breakfast-sandwiches-103.jpg

Graft (an acrostic poem)

Giving his best had always been Amir’s motto, but others just wanted a hand out

Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out an extra twenty and handed it over

And just like magic, his truck would be the next one unloaded.

Funny how feeding greed made Amir sick to his stomach

Too bad he had to keep a two liter of Pepto-Bismol close at hand