Jackpot Eyes
Become a
Premium Member
and post notes and photos about your poem like Keith D Trestrail.
How close it was but sadly not to be
with chosen numbers falsely provident -
deserving no such serendipity
lest I remain reckless and delinquent.
Mine are the sins of a Protestant son
for which I am well blamed but not well-heeled,
which robbed my vulgar life’s fortune undone
till I’m pale and hermetically sealed.
Lost are foreign cars, no pockets of gold -
no libertine joy till O’ happy dirge!
My Faustian spirit that sold its soul
alas will not my blunted senses purge.
O’ well, seems my fate is not to abscond
with some giddy perky pneumatic blonde!
Written: December 1996
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2022
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