He Was To and Has Lost the Bet
Strumming woes invade the greek pysche filled with ego and eid
three fingers wilted on the hands of destiny, tap mysteriously the mind lid
about to explode and summit like volcano , unknown as to its type
fate lines meander ,criss cross and form irregular hypes
crass brass of acts, shame the simpleton as he breaks into painful smile
never ever will that error be executed, he cries shoutingly
cannot retrace back that, is what kills so humungously
what an idiotic time that was when he bet fortune
on the loosing ,weak and unknown jockey and horse set
he was to and has lost the bet.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
