Acrosticpalooza!

Poems from some special guests

Hello, Beloveds. Poet Jesus here.

A couple weeks back, my holy ghostwriter Tania held the second workshop for paid subscribers. The topic? Acrostics.

Because Tania likes to flex her calmly defiant muscles (a woman after my own heart), she’s been paying special attention to forms that tend to be misunderstood. In our January workshop, for example, we covered English-language haiku and how the form is NOT about 5-7-5 (please. . . please resist the lure of 5-7-5) and all about immediacy, senses, seasons, and juxtaposition.

Acrostics, too, get the short end of the stick, usually relegated to elementary-school “get-to-know-me” activities. Nothing wrong with a fun name poem, of course, but there is so much more to acrostics!

Image by _Alicja_ from Pixabay

In our workshop, we discussed how the acrostic serves to conceal and reveal at once, making it the ideal form for situations like these:

• Exploring new meanings and perspectives

• Speaking the unspoken

• Experiencing the mystery, risk, and adventure of sharing '“not-so-secret” secrets

• Finding freedom and discovery through restriction and control

• Subverting an opinion or idea, protesting, or “sticking it to the man”

Here are some of the wonderful acrostics produced as a result of our workshop. Since you already know that you are reading acrostics, of course, the “concealing” factor will be somewhat lost. However, you will still get a sense of how and why the writers chose these subjects for the form. (Note: Poets usually spell their acrostic words/phrases with the first letter of each line. Sometimes, though, they use the first letter of each stanza.)

Enjoy!

My Wild Place
—by Rebecca Stultz

Inside, my peace bowl, half-empty
Circle waiting to be filled.
Outside, quiet demeanor
Miming complete contentment.
Each day the fullness decreasing,
Incremental yearning to be
Near clear creek,
Tilt chin upwards and stare through
Overlapping quivering leaves,
Touch emerald moss shawl wrapping log,
Hear red-headed woodpecker
Entering beak into bark,
Pause as dappled fawn
Eyes this two-legged stranger,
Await its nimble leap,
Climb the hill,
Exhaling in crow caw rhythm,
Often stopping
For the life scents in listening.
When escape
Into my wild place is
Laid at my feet, relief,
Delight, hope light my eyes.
This woods, another
Home where I feel loved, alive,
In sync with the Spirit, does
Not need me. This wild place is
Grace. This wild place
Sends me home, peace bowl filled.

You Won’t Believe the Results!
—by Lindsey Moyer

Do you remember shake weights?
Ever tried vibration plates?
Ab roller, thigh master, servanthood?
Then you’ll really feel good after
Having taken these meds! Bone cleanse?
Protein? So lean. More greens!
Really, now you’ll look great, feel
Okay, maybe try the seaside,
Besides, what have you to lose?
Accept the squish-squash
Belly fat. Where are all my 
Losers at?
You can finally be loved,
    what are you afraid of?

What I Want To Do
—by Jeremy Runyan

Naturally, a boy will have urges.
On the table, I notice Mom’s new catalogue.
Can I go even a day without sinning?
Only God is good; we are snow covered crap,
Never pleasing the righteous One.
Did I show proper remorse for pride and speeding today?
Endless charting of pushups, situps, days without sinning.
My Bible falls easily to Psalm 51.
Not a religion, a relationship, I tell others
As my heart is cold, fearful, and alone.
This is the Christian struggle–Romans 7!
In the dark I once again say the sinner’s prayer.
Only God can deliver me from this body of death.
Not that he would want to.


Remaking Us?
—by Mark Stucky

Making over, regretting, repenting, cleansing, correcting
American culture, laws, values, hearts, minds, and souls…
Goodness (not greed, hate, and cruelty) requires reform,
Anew and again, for formerly we were not this lost.


Vocal Cord Paralysis
—by Kim K Roberts

Can this be fixed? Will I ever feel that resonance of my alto in my chest again?

You don't know what you've got till it's gone, like Joni Mitchell says.

Hear that high-pitched raspy whisper? That's 

Me.

Now I wait: 
   wait for appointments, 
   wait for assessments, 
   wait for procedures, 
   wait for the inevitable “What's that?”, 
   wait to be heard, 
   
   wait for others to notice 
   I have something to say. 
   Something worth 
   the effort it takes to make it out.

Breakfast is Ready
—by Peter M. Ivey

After his gruesome execution, who could blame the guy,
Going back to casting nets and rowing head-down
Against the weight of his well-advertised three-strike den—
Peter, look up! Who's the dude trolling the shoreline,
Engulfing Galilean tilapia off the bone, laughing 

Like a new hubby clapped with honey-cake by his bride? 
Open wounds seem to be showing at the fisherman's side.
Veils are still in need of being torn in two, but, glory,
Eat! He's inviting you to eat! Tow in your payload, man!

P.S. Our next paid-subscriber workshop will be held in July! Upgrade to paid to receive a Poet Jesus bookmark and sticker, signed copy of Tania’s collection What Will Soon Take Place, and access to all workshops!