Tag Archives: week

10.10.22
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Late (an acrostic poem)

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Leaving for the last minute is totally my style

And I usually can make it work

Then there is the time you know it is due tomorrow

Except it was due last week.  Oops!

05.16.22
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Ration (an acrostic poem)

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Reaching into the sack, he handed his daughter a small potato

And her look of disappointment hurt his heart so much

That was the best he could do, at least she would have something in her tummy tonight

If he could do more, he would

Only if he gave her more now, she would go without later that week

Now to bully his hunger into being quiet until he got her to bed

05.09.22
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Defeat (an acrostic poem)

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Determined to go to bed sooner

Enabling a more refreshing start to the week

Fumbling through the stuff that had to be done

Everything taking so much more time to do

And some of it didn’t work out at all

Then the clock read 2 a.m. and he had to admit…

02.21.22
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Beep (an acrostic poem)

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Being in IT when every computer on campus was making noises

Especially as they rebooted over and over again was not going to be good

Ernie knew he was doomed for a long long long day

Perhaps this was not the week to give up swearing, but he wanted to yell something.  “Oh …”

01.18.20
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Stress (an acrostic one-sided conversation)

So that proposal was due yesterday?  I thought it was next week.

They told me next week.  I’m sure of that.

Really, they’ve got to give us a second chance.

Everyone has days like this, Michael.  I’m only human.

So what do you mean don’t bother coming to work on Monday?

So Michael, do you think I can get a reference letter hookup from you?

 

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Bonus poem (1st draft)  If you like this one better, let me know in the comments.

So that project proposal was due yesterday?

That’s right, so now our company’s existence is now in question.

Really?  Why didn’t you tell me?

Everyone told you, daily.  With voicemail AND email AND in person

So about that.  I thought you were all being a bit pushy.

So about that, you’re fired.

02.10.19
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Miracle (an acrostic poem)

Misha looked back over the waves

In the distance, she could still see the fires on the shore

Reaching out, she placed a comforting hand on Herb

After everything, the two of them had been through

Cutting ties with their past and sailing into the unknown was the hardest

Last week it looked like they would both be dead in a mass grave

Even unbelievers like Misha could recognize their escape for what it was

 

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