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fickle finger of fate
by lauriere, amarantus
Fickle Finger of Fate
by Kantor, Jeff
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The Best Fickle Finger Of Fate Poems
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Fickle Finger Of Fate Poem
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I wonder if fate had me pegged all along life’s path. My sagging smile and breasts, still lifting though depressed. My husband and I adapt to the grandparent role, understanding only now the heavy hearts of our own grandparents. The fate of the aged is fine wine, elephant wrinkles, forgetfulness and dying relatives and friends.
On the lighter side, I remember Laugh Ins’ fickle finger of fate. Now it’s pointing at me. The other day, when I walked down the stairs, with creaky knees and ankles, I told myself, “walk like a twenty year old,” then again as I became unbalanced, “fall like a fifty year old.” And there you have it - all the joy, wisdom and heartiness of late.
6/25/2018
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2018
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Fickle Finger Of Fate Poem
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Women of wit are treacherous tools,
Ever fatefully embracing idiot fools;
When pleasure waves a finger, it's never too late,
To enjoy the indulgence of the finger of fate.
To tread through briars and hedges of thorn,
Where whimsy's shrewd fickle feet are borne;
And taste with delight the pleasures of pain,
Where everything's lost, and there is no gain.
Whenever a woman of wit should arrive,
Gather your wits to stay alive;
For you know she’ll gather her skirts to chase,
And a fickle finger of fate might just save your face.
For Gwen's Tongue Twister contest
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2011
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Fickle Finger Of Fate Poem
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from birth until this moment with your family as supporting team
the journey within your space/ time continuum stream
found trials and tribulations comprising the spool o yar existential ream
some incidents assessed in retrospect might now appear
as particularly significant undertakings – getting you grounded with clear
insight into what future dreams may become manifest with yar dear
beloved husband – I aver to when ye will endure empty nest fair
lee soon, whereby yar life will constitute andy and his anatomical gear
whose cupidity, fidelity, integrity, levity, opportunity, runneth tranquil
tiding up for gatherings or packing with his efficient globe trotting skill
bubbling with energy, harmony, synergy through his confluence he rill
lee doth possess – in my humble opinion, though less to take quill
to paper, him this brother in law applauds how he accepted any bitter pill
i.e. figuratively when the fickle finger of fate seemed to obscenely mill
a tate a contrary outcome than he desire, a fighting esprit de corps did fill
his entire being – putting forces of destruction re: no longer threat of evil
which waywardness with this poetic intent to type a birthday cheer
sans thy lovely sister activated thoughts pertaining to positive people dear
as senescence shuttles thine youngest harris heiress who everywhere
she goes affects a blessedly diplomatic, friendly holistic imprimatur
and thus tis probably apropos to attempt to communicate with mere
crude symbols i.e. the 26 letters of the alphabet to formulate the near
wrist approximating her significance in me xy z lived life a prayer
and many a broken wing, but tis necessary 4 me 2 expunge – though rear
the positive presence (most often invisible) whence shari did tear
out from the birth canal even at that early infantile stage did wear
autonomy to evince can do spirit whereby she irresistibly insinuated an air
that inexplicably captivated family, friends, romans….with no blare
ring burst, but she exhibited a magnetic trait – I now heartily cheer
cuz many stepping stones to mine current ah fair
rooted tuber remembered per the unsolicited advice aye did hear
when oft times shuttered in this man cave, hell lair
re: us lee chuckling at online jokes, which laugh tier
medicine for this bot deed father, a pro motor still sputtering each year.
Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2015
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She was a frequent flier
of the flights of fancy and
her life was often left to
the fickle finger of fate.
-Alesia Leach © 9/2015
Copyright © Alesia Leach | Year Posted 2015
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DUCK AFTER DUMP PING THE DON
air ring ma thoughts - no matter aye ham
juiced one twenty first century mwm ape
serves as genuine s cape
to fly (during pitch black hours of night) and escape
burning effigies, where his jumbo jet, a sonic boom stick bewitching like Snape
temporarily tough feign ruffled feathers sans rape
pay shuss selfish lust, when world sliding down behavioral sink,
where he doth jape
and me as distant outlier from madding crowd i gape
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
At the sheer inanity
trumpeting strumpets donning an innate
prejudice and senselessness purr
blind faith toward self avowed demigod -- seize whore viz Cesar
his hair coiffed and puffed like it whir
wind blown kickstart ting mobs to stir
paying bodyguards to evict ruckus-causing murmur
oh...how the masses will let this country
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Go to hell in hand basket
and rack up stratospheric global debt
cause zing this one measly mortal male to fret
that totalitarian rule will force every man,
woman and child to march....het
two...three...four, while the billionaire
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
turns a third blind eye speeds away in his foo fighter jet
argh...heavens to Betsy, how did the fickle finger of fate let
this pompous ***
vacuumed majority votes across world wide net
to finagle vox populi, and groom hooligan nasty ruffian thugs
with smashed face s as his smart pet
bump ping uglies henchmen set
to create their own version of the tet
offensive, despite croup bawling ashen faced deportees
whose tears sentence innocent to po' ver tee branding indiscriminately vet
so culled unwanted ill eagle "aliens"
labored with nose to grindstone
fingers to the bone vainly, their american dream parched whence whet.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Long story short - pondering my rental circumstance will equal net
zero importance, and will be upended if this ret
chad, ewol, googly-eyed, gastronomic, narcissistic bullish don will set
the spark for world war three - via gone ah re: ha...ha...ha...to all vet
tureens within the american crucible melting pot - with backs whet
unless....Katrina and the Waves, superman or Sabrina can oust him yet!
Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2017
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Ameliorate the sensation sans being caught
between the devil and the dark blue sea,
This tethered to the oblate spheroid earthling
doth strive toward savoir-faire re:
As the fickle finger of fate flicks this mortal being
hither and yon inducing a que
zee ripcord backlash inducing thine
angst riddled psyche to create a non prithee
picture thy sense of doom and gloom,
Where deer antelope ply Wildwood furies of Agamemnon playing olly
Olly oxen…. whence teamsters unleash
whip-sawed, and zigzagged nor’easter nee
and smite thy corporeal essence The Idler Wheel
Is Wiser than the Driver of arch ca me
d’s Screw and Whipping Cords Will Serve You
More than Ropes Will Ever Do – re: lee
bind the optimism of incipient internal
involuntary crushing any budding hope until…key
Purr of salvation in the guise of Paul Dice
unexpectedly intervened by a fluke of high lee
totally tubularly random events impossible
to linkedin, where plenti of helping hands – jais
ne sais quois – conjoined at just the optimal moments
to nudge – each twerk, though itsy
bitsy spidery like thread (the main impetus
squarely rests on the above named Millville – he
ving over the top tenacious effort exerted
on behalf of Good Samaritan with gumption, glee
suffusing with the milk of human kindness
doggedly sought to extricate self and spouse free
of charge, and whose markedly muscling actions
earn him more than words can spell a dee
mon strew bull epitomy of virtue relieving
the gordian knotted pang – this atheist Che
fully thanks, him (anoint said fellow Paul Dice)
as the Grand Poobah to be
more valuable than fine-spun gold –
and thus this spur of the moment tribute – Ayee!
Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017
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Ok Abe, you’re up next
Oh the fickle finger of fate
HG tags me..the hour is late.
I’ll be glad to pass on the spud..
Please…don’t drop with a thud
Our talented Abe will surely respond
By tagging someone of whom he is fond
This game is raucous, writing such fun,
For our Souper Abe ..take it and run….
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2009
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(witch role an unavoidable mandatory phase)
that nowadays breaks the piggybank
like a dropped fragile vase
you most likely nod assent if offspring grown,
or ponder new found challenge
expectant motherhood costs of progeny
take the following precendent all ways.
deux daughters desiduous teeth comprise
sum total of forty milky pearl white
whereat each healthy tooth
a miraculous bite size bit
of jaw dropping wizardry to in vite
a tasty morsel to get chewed,
until at some arbitrary time
(incumbent on each individual biological clock),
the second set thwart aside
(or sometime literally override)
these baby choppers right
fully as sought after treatures for the tooth fairy
(oft time disguised as part
of canine corp) offer sterling sight,
but fascinating as each replicated, punctuated,
lacteal dentition adorned with a pulp,
dentin, enamel, and cementum quite
a complex miniature edifice,
or a more apropos metaphor fielding sprite
would be a picket fence with important slats,
and thus a challenging plight
arises when a child shows their mother or father
gapped smile, and understands
to place tooth under pillow at night
when quiet as a mouse (who to be honest
create scratching sounds) the might
tee tooth fairy doth descend (nowadays
resort to global positioning
satelline application)
to find their way without turning on the light
soundless and still as a dust mote
feign being a knight
less to rescue a damsel, maybe
one baby step ahead of her/his insight
expecting to disover a modest wad of cash,
if stood on end, rather sizable in height
and essentially necessitating po' papa
to take out a loan, or hope flight
of fancy wish to win the lottery,
which would exite
self or spouse, but reality in league
with the fickle finger of fate doth disappoint and delight
son or daughter boasting to classmates,
how the rich tooth fairy (iz actually a faux pas
sham shaman, dirt poor father, bled dry,
whose coutenance (visible after break of day)
reflects that of one who barely survived a catfight
with finances in tatters as if
one money hungry toothless fairy took a bite.
Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017
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Preterists want back their laurels lost, fingers crossed.
Predators pray for their ruling permanence at the rest's cost, fingers crossed.
So many fingers, so much paltriness; So soon their crossing, their anagnorises so late.
Commanding o'er the entire terrestrial has always been the fickle finger of fate,
from which no one can e'er escape, from prehistory up to date.
Be you owning mansions grandiosely gilt or holding royal sword's hilt,
unaffordable is this finger's slightest tilt-----
Power and prestige, worth and wealth, quick as a wink, all sink into silt.
Copyright © amarantus lauriere | Year Posted 2018
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At last my Minxy is back in town,
My frown is finally upside down.
And now we’re going to paint the town red,
But the rest of the time we’re staying in bed.
Together again my life feels so full,
But when you leave I just feel awful.
We wined we dined we had so much fun.
We swam we slept we spent time in the sun.
We laughed we loved we lusted.
We shared we cared we trusted.
Our time together was practically perfect,
We’re meant to be from when first we met.
Words seem inadequate to fully explain,
The feelings for you my heart must contain.
Then came the fateful day of your departure,
A dream you had foretold an immanent disaster.
Unfortunately this premonition you chose to censure,
My reaction to your revelation you were unsure.
Your empath and intuition must always be heeded,
Sometimes a new plan for our day may be needed.
Then at the beach I was totally flustered,
When I realised my Minxy’s finger was busted.
A visit from the fickle little finger of fate,
Spoiled the perfect ending to our wonderful date.
I’m sorry, so truly sorry I have hurt my sexy Minxy,
I promise I’ll never break another little pinky.
Fickle Finger of Fate.
11/04/2018.
Copyright © Jeff Kantor | Year Posted 2018