Acrostic poems prompt
Creativity and require to be
Read with an
Open mind,
Systematically and understood
Though understanding differs.
Inspiring more fun and
C**reative styles.

The wind storm blows surely
with an intense bite of gloom
It topples over dreams
and so begins the time of doom
Hope is taken quickly
for the wind does damage swift
Then good and evil turn
dark and light will flip and shift
Once the storm settles
and wind has left its sin
We’ll rebuild what we can
and wait for the storm to come again

many times i feel, as if the things i have to do matter only to me.
like my life or death isnt apparently a deal. but how can that be true.
we all live with love. but with pain more often we sleep.

now the only time we ever feel the hope in our heart is when things are shining, not bleek. but how can this be true.
we must learn to let go, of the fact our fear has pushed us onward.

well you only know its love when you dont know.
you only start to hide when it starts to show.
you only know you love life when you let it go.

move on now to better things. is what we are told. but how can this be so.
we live in the shadow of others mercy and we take to pride our own victory over others at the same time. is this how it goes.

let go of the love of power. and the power of love will win.

let it go

with our only hope being the main thing we wake up to, and the last thing we have in our heads as we sleep,  we must let go of fear, and the past must make its own course. free you're mind, and everything will follow.

the enemy is fear. we think it is hate, but it is fear.
fear creates danger, not vice versa, and courage dispels its.

let it go.

the fear.
the past.
the hate.

the love of power.

free your mind, and everything will follow.




let it go

Your hair –
twilight strands of, “now'd,”
gotten longer and were so silently dreamt of last Tuesday.

Your fingers –
finally allowed, followed to weave my own,
and all that'd been prior washed away;

Dirt, gizzards and blasphemy, along with the boils from my father’s dead hands.

Your hips –
whispered 'morrow and all the jubilance expelled,
so that the same morrow's sun'd show eminence once again.

Your eyes –
said, “baby,” if only, “baby,” and, “baby, it'll be ok,”
it'll always be, “A-OK.”

So when your heart –
let me and finally to cry, appendage etched eyes,
eyes etched the night and sure, summer'd be at end,

but autumn could taste oh so much better.

The powdery snow flutters down,
coloring the mountain ridge white
The two inside a run-down house in a desolate village
huddle together in the winter night

“It’d also been snowing the day we’d met,”
you murmured with a smile
And I’d hidden my face flushed from the hearth
within the shadow of your large sleeve

With a breath of joy,
I sang of spring’s arrival along with the chirping birds
“Your voice is beautiful,” you told me,
and that alone, just those words, made me so happy

“If someday, I no longer had this beautiful voice,
would you still, even then, love me?”
“Of course,” you said, smiling gently
as your large hand softly stroked my cheek

One leaf-lit summer afternoon,
you collapsed from illness
Our poor married life
couldn’t afford the medicine to cure it

The next day, along with the following,
I did nothing but intently weave
I wouldn’t let your life
fall like the short-lived autumn leaves

The seasons flow by
The bell crickets mark the end of summer with their cries
“Your fingers are beautiful,” you told me,
gripping my wound-covered hands,
but yours were much too cold…

“If someday, I no longer had these beautiful fingers,
would you still, even then, love me?”
“Of course,” you said, coughing
as your large hands caressed my hurting fingers

Day and night, don’t stop weaving
Hurry, hurry, I need to buy the medicine…
Just a bit more, ony a bit more; before the autumn leaves fall
Until these fingers can’t move… Until these feathers are used up…

“If someday, I were no longer a human,
would you still love me?”
The truth I feared left unable to be told,
I softly pluck the final feather alone…

“Of course,” I say, smiling
I promised I’d embrace you when you lost your wings
And that crane which had beautifully taken flight that day,
I’ve never forgotten, and still remember, even now

And just like always, I love you

I’m a quarter of a century old...here’s my story to you all:

I’m a father of 2 children, truly intense couple years, as I became not just their "papa" but also a chemical engineer.

I have learned 4 languages thus far and have worked at a nuclear plant.

I’ve learned NEVER to judge anyone and then dare to give advice…for circumstances are unknown anyhow, so ALWAYS think before it twice.

I’ve been married, I’ve been divorced, I’ve fought cancer and I won.

I’ve been shown what real friends act like, that sometimes “family” ain’t your blood.

I’ve experienced the truest love and the deepest heartbreak both, I’ve made bad and good decisions…no regrets in any of those.

I’m 25 years old and have seemingly lived through a lifetime, but though the road is still long, I am confident right now.

Because for all those problems ahead, now there’s these lessons I’ve learned, where there’s value in none more than finally knowing what is hope.

Scribbles and mess-ups and an ink covered page,
My brain is the station and my train of thought never stays.

Cluelessness and confusion are the things that choose to fill,
My mind of no rhyme in a head of no will.

So I chase down that train,
The one leaving my brain,
That fast locomotive that's driving me insane.

I find myself aboard a vacated car,
No thought,
just knowing not,
Where you actually are.

Place down the pen, close the book and lay back,
You might be on the train, but you're not on the track.

Head back to the station where you will wait for another,
Hoping then the train that comes will ride as smooth as butter.

there stood the plaintiff
her eyes were filled with grief
she struggled to speak
too tired, too weak

o, believe me
judge and jury
hear out my plea
hear out my story
that man is a criminal!
he is worse than an animal!

he is guilty of robbery
he stole my heart with the threat of leaving me

he is guilty of fraud
a sly scoundrel we must all applaud
he is the master of fabrication
he has an outstanding skill in deception
he fed me with all the ******* he devised
with the most convincing lines and perfect lies

that man is a killer
he is guilty of ******
he did not use any weapon
but his words are poison
more lethal than a gun
more damage done
it did not pierced my skin but it crushed my soul
left my heart with a sempiternal hole
it was worse than the sharpest knife
i may still breathe but believe me, he took my life

and so came the lawyer
he stood for the defendant's answer*

he is not guilty of robbery
you gave your heart willingly
knowingly and voluntarily

he is not guilty of any form of deception
you were a fool from your own volition
you chose to believe
you were willing to be deceived
you knew the lies he always say
but you believed it anyway

this was neither a case of ******
it was not the fault of your lover
it was suicide
for you had the power to decide
you could just walk away
but you always chose to stay
you had the power
to leave your lover
to find another
you knew better
you are aware of love's diabolical scheme
you are a willing victim

o, believe me
judge and jury
won't you take my side?
isn't it love is a form of suicide?