Ox

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it was party
in the park
Bob Geldof. South Africa.
thrust into the world
found sun shining in
winter in the wintery dew that fell over
my snowy paddock, the morning
glory glistened and sparkled
I spent my childhood
riding the horns of ambition
wisdom weaving my destiny like
I had control over what happens
when I stood alone in my pad
fenced in yellow tulips, shelter my
friends slither between
but they know, if they
cross the fence – my
wrath is all
they will
see.

Another Acrostic: Why did you steal our bin?

why did you act unfavourably

have you the swagger to confess?

your duplicity baffles me

despicable street light antics

illicit ninja left usĀ frantic

demons in urban corporate dress.

you cursed us; judging and doubting

oozing thoughts of unpleasantness

usurped after work, we searched, scouting

sucky little ugly goblins

talk about a suburban problem

exterminate from our address.

apprehensive anonymity

lingers like shadows of stress

out of the cracks of the city

unearth a convoluted game

really though, what you did was lame

back, put it back, this isn’t chess.

in the book, look for trustworthy

note, it’s called being neighbourly.

Working Together: A Trust Acrostic

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wielding words into chat

orienteering our campaign-o

reading, writing, questioning

kinetic-like sheep, I mean people

idiosyncrasies synchronised – it

needs a hall-eh-lujah

grounded and bounded till five

solid hexagon forever.

 

Writing 201: Day Three: Trust – Acrostic – Internal Rhyming

Trust, for me, is working together as one well oiled machine.