Hubris (an acrostic poem)

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He thought he knew exactly what to do

Until he found out the hardware wouldn’t work

Being too smart for his own good he whipped up something new

Realizing that was a wasted four hours because he had just simply wired the original backwards

It had worked all the time if he had just opened his eyes and slowed down

So much for a calm Sunday

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

Wrecked (an acrostic poem)

Wasted time dribbled away from Kenny

Reaching for his mostly empty beer, he finished the job

Everyone turned as he slammed it to the bar top

Cussing at the slow bartender, he demanded another

Know what? He found out the gutter was cold with snow runoff

Eventually, he managed to get himself into a sitting position

Depositing the remains of that beer into the gutter, he watched time follow it down the drain

 

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