Crisp (an acrostic poem)

Cold water vapor condensed in front of Jeremy with every breath

Running in between the snowflakes was usually relaxing

Instead it further fed the fears Jeremy was fleeing from

Soon he would have to return home to his wife of twelve years

Perhaps he would recognize her this time

 

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Sweat (an acrostic poem)

Softly the salty water plopped on the stone dry earth

While her pulse pounded in her own ears

Each step quickly followed by another

As she ran from the person she once was

Towards the person she wanted to be

 

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Water (an acrostic poem)

Wouldn’t it be nice if the boiler would work?

And also there wouldn’t be any leaks?

Too bad it failed on the later

Everything came to a halt as warm wetness spread

Ruining parts of the basement

 

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Tardis (an acrostic poem)

Time is a measure of order decaying into chaos

And we spend time trying to reverse its effects

Rationing parts of time for the pursuit of money

Determining what we can and cannot do by how much we have experienced time

I am a time traveler and purveyor, a connoisseur and a waster

Still wish I had a blue police booth to play around in it

 

Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c3/TARDIS2.jpg

Flowing Through Time

When you are young you run with reckless abandon everywhere.  There is always something new to see and experience.  The world is so huge, and you have so much energy that you want to explode to spread yourself across everything.  You are more energetic than the time that surrounds you.  Time moves so slowly that you wonder if you are ever going to get to a point where you can do what you want, when you want to.  It’s like you found a spring on a hot day, and you play in the spurting cool water of time.  It isn’t enough water to satisfy you; to cool you completely.  You just wish there was more time to allow you to be immersed.

You reach your twenties and thirties, and you have the energy to do those things and just enough experience to try to get the most for the energy you expend.  Satisfaction from each new encounter provides positive feedback, sending you to the next one.  You wade through a stream of time.  The water pools and runs around your legs, pulling you lightly along, but you are still master of your travel.  Time can tickle you, but your energy allows you to be in the moment, and time doesn’t sweep you past it before you let it.

Now you get older and your energy level begins to decrease more.  This is a gradual decrease, so you don’t notice it at first.  Life begins to pile things up on you.  Now not everything can get done in a day, week, or year.  Family, career, and me time cry for attention, but there isn’t enough energy left to buck time.  Time begins to grow faster, picking you out of the calm part of the river and edging you towards the middle.  You hear rapids approaching.  Do you swim for shore?  Do you try to find an eddy in time that you can float in to catch your breath?  Do you try to shoot the rapids?  Time is moving faster and faster, and soon you are ditching things overboard like goals and aspirations, bucket lists, people and places that are special to you just to keep afloat and not smashed upon the rocks of midlife crisis.

You make to retirement.  You manage to ride the river to the ocean and the waves crash you in towards shore.  You realize that time has won.  It was always going to.  Your acceptance of that allows you to just enjoy floating there, bobbing on each passing wave.  It becomes fun again to frolic in time, but you know one day you’re going to be stranded on that beach at the end of life, out of time and energy.  Time will still surge in and out, but your time to ride will be over.

Secrets (an acrostic poem)

Simple things were not always possible

Even when Thomas was the perfect one

Christine finished laying the bricks of the new outdoor fireplace

Rather than something small, she had decided to go massive

Everything had a place, including a water feature and cedar lined benches

Thomas would have loved it, but he had broken up with her yesterday

She hoped the cedar would hide the smell when he started to decay