#acrostic

Edwardian DEAR Acrostic Ring, 14K Gold Signet Diamond Ruby Clef

The darling @ahhhnorealnamesallowed tagged me to find some sentences that started with SATED, so I'm pulling from the last half of The Beast That Wears the Man.

S | Stiles sank into the pool with a sigh so deep it seemed to rise from the soles of his feet.

A | A soft breeze slipped through the pillars then, almost nothing. Yet it brushed his hair, stirred the flame of the lantern, and for a heartbeat he felt less alone.

T | “Two sticks of incense, one for your grief and one for mine,” he said. He tapped the table once, as if bidding goodnight to his ghosts.

E | Every one of Derek’s kisses was a command, every thrust a promise, and Stiles gave himself over, not because he was conquered, but because he wanted to be.

D | Derek huffed a broken sound that might have once been a laugh. “Did… didn’t want you…” His eyes rolled as his head lolled briefly.

[INTROSPECTION]

Inside of my dull head,

Not a rose in sight.

Trekking the steep hills,

Rowing through hurdles

Of my own design.

Slopes are few and far between,

Predictions can drastically vary,

Even if it's imaginary.

Clamped tight, it's not failing;

The seal is everlasting.

In my echoing, concave world,

Only reverberations remain...but

No truth is found within the dream.

For the @draco-tops-harry-discord-server acrostic word game. The word was Happy. Wc: 245

H- Harry looked up at Draco from his seat. The fear is his green gaze tugged at Draco’s heartstrings. Draco hated this. He hated hospitals. They smelled weird, had a bunch of viruses and germs prowling about, and the doctors always ignored them. 

A - Alright. Draco admitted that they might’ve pushed the limits of the St Mungo’s staff’s patience. But this was their first child! Of course they were going to show up when Harry started experiencing contractions! How were they to know it was only Braxton Hicks and not the real deal? 

P - Plus, with Harry being precocious in all areas of life, it stood to reason that he’d deliver early as well. And this time the contractions were for real.

P - Pushing his ire to the side, Draco approached the old battle-axe mediwitch at the front desk and tapped his fingers against the counter when she ignored him. Eventually he cleared his throat in irritation and she looked up. 

Y - “You again?” she drawled.

“Yes, me again, you cruel and neglectful harpy! My husband is on the precipice of delivering our first and perfect child!” Draco hissed.

She glanced behind him at Harry and her face turned green. “Oh! Why didn’t you say something before!” she shrieked.

Ginger

Gazing

Introspectively

Near

Grass-Covered

Elegant

I'm sick and tired of these voices

Calling out my name. It's scary

Another night, I stare at the empty

Nowhere in my room

Thinking to end it all

Thinking to take a blade

And let it run around my wrists

Kill these voices that love me so much

End this misery once and for all

I can't. How can I?

Thinking about her, i wish to see

Another shitty day

Neglecting the other stuffs just for her

Yearning to touch her

Maybe she could cure me

Or maybe she'll become another reason

Rigged in my heart, is her

Eternal love that makes the voices fade.

America Is Loving Me to Death Michael Kleber-Diggs

acrostic golden shovel

America is loving me to death, loving me to death slowly, and I Mainly try not to be disappeared here, knowing she won’t pledge Even tolerance in return. Dear God, I can’t offer allegiance. Right now, 400 years ago, far into the future―it’s difficult to Ignore or forgive how despised I am and have been in the Centuries I’ve been here—despised in the design of the flag And in the fealty it demands (lest I be made an example of). In America there’s one winning story—no adaptations. The Story imagines a noble, grand progress where we’re all united. Like truths are as self-evident as the Declaration states. Or like they would be if not for detractors like me, the ranks of Vagabonds existing to point out what’s rotten in America, Insisting her gains come at a cost, reminding her who pays, and Negating wild notions of exceptionalism—adding ugly facts to God’s-favorite-nation mythology. Look, victors get spoils; I know the Memories of the vanquished fade away. I hear the enduring republic, Erect and proud, asking through ravenous teeth Who do you riot for? Tamir? Sandra? Medgar? George? Breonna? Elijah? Philando? Eric? Which One? Like it can’t be all of them. Like it can’t be the entirety of it: Destroyed brown bodies, dismantled homes, so demolition stands Even as my fidelity falls, as it must. She erases my reason too, allows one Answer to her only loyalty test: yes or no, Michael, do you love this nation? Then hates me for saying I can’t, for not burying myself under Her fables where we’re one, indivisible, free, just, under God, her God.

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Have y'all heard about the hot new poetic form, the golden shovel? Seriously. It was invented by Terrance Hayes, in homage to Gwendolyn Brooks: in his poem, "The Golden Shovel", reading the last word of each line gives you her poem "We Real Cool", vertically.

Poets have run with the idea in all kinds of clever directions -- using last words to spell out lines from other poems, prose quotes, even Cardi B lyrics...! (I wasn't kidding when I said it's hot. Terrance Hayes, Ravi Shankar, and Patricia Smith put together an anthology a few years back of golden shovel poems specifically building on the work of Gwendolyn Brooks and over 200 top-name poets contributed. It's not every decade a new poetic form drops, I guess!)

Today's Michael Kleber-Diggs poem is a golden shovel, as you'll see if you go back and try that vertical reading of the last words. It's also, astoundingly, an acrostic poem, where reading the first letter of each line also reveals a hidden message. I love the contrast of it: so much skill and artistry being used to address something so raw and ugly.

When we were very young: