Best Loser Poems
A billionaire, he knew each wine by name
Todd Worthington of inheritance fame
Blindfolded he taste-tested
Fans watched so interested
Until a street boozer put him to shame
Fred stumbled in, challenged Todd to a race
Though Fred was not skilled in fine social grace
Drank Todd under the table
Todd out cold, Fred was able
To acquire high society’s embrace
Written June 18, 2011
for Francine’s “Bottle of Wine (Fruit of the vine, when...” contest”
I dangle from a frayed, silken cord of melancholy ...
Gaping beneath me, a chasm of hope and elation, aglow.
For most of a lifetime I've wrapped a cloak of worthlessness about me,
Using the flashes of talent to adorn the dark neglect like stars.
Oh, there is an odd comfort in the complacency of underachievement -
I used the indifference of others as my impetus ...
Not to fail, but rather to never complete ... ANYthing.
You see, you can't be placed, (or even expected to),
If you don't cross the finish line, or never leave the gate.
I succeeded in vicarious ways, however ...
Through the things that my critics found of little consequence -
Grades, honor roles, academic awards, sports accomplishments and citations,
But never did I exult openly in front of my detractors,
(The ONE, really, who saw nothing but his requirements,
As the only measurements that truly mattered).
Now I see, above, the black expanse of that life of shortcomings ...
That mockery of pretending to care about what he cared about ...
I feel my fingers loosening their grip on that rope of failure,
Sadness and careless interest starting to slide through my palms,
The opulence and shine of release, success, self-esteem, and joy,
Warming the soles of my feet ... whispering "Let go, lad ... live again!"
How sad, that it's the specter of his death, and the waning of his sanity,
That makes it so, for all I ever wished for ...
Was his praise.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Eight Word Challenge #8" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
They say he’s a loser,
the shabby look does not bother him,
Sitting by himself and lost in his thoughts,
Seems like normal thoughtful moment for him.
They say he’s a loser,
He goes deep inside a love song to find the meaning of love,
He feels the sorrow in the sad songs to understand the pain of his heart,
He plays the sad flute music to meet his lover sometime.
They say he’s a loser,
He peers in the flower blossoms to have a close encounter with the beauty,
He looks up to the clouds to send his love message to his distant lover,
He envisions eternal love in the perpetuity of waves beating the seashore.
They say he’s a loser,
What people say, it does not matter,
He loves the peace, stillness, and silence in his thoughts,
I guess he must be a poet!
Dear life, I have not struggled
for being called cheater….. I might have
kept my promises but that doesn’t
make me a cheater…. when all my plans
gone wrong, I thank you for the help
you did, the people you gave but,
I still continue to fail… so please,
call me a loser, not a cheater.
Life you were so kind bringing
hope, new people in my life….
their anticipations made me take risks
and I failed like every time. The only
new thing knocked the door was lier,
cheater, unfaithful and many more…..
tags given by my so loved people
how should I tell them that I’m a loser….. not a cheater!!!!
Tough times are not new for me, people’s
change is something new that I have tasted
It’s bitter than I thought, worse than ever.
Yet I still strive to bring smile on my
loved ones, yet again I fail…. and I see
their faith in me fading away…..
all I can tell is the fear of being
called cheater kills me away.
Yes, I can’t do it now.. but I might
do in future. Life give me one chance
to prove people that I’m not a cheater but,
a loser or at least an opportunity to
thank the people in my life….
a loser asks your help once again.
thoughts such wander in my mind
because I’m a loser….. not cheater!!!
I
am
so sad
my soul aches
I don't want to drink
but it allows me to function
when gin is not in my system my body just shakes
I'm an alcoholic that's lost self, family and job, a loser without a home
Contest:Writing Challenge Fibonacci
Sponsor: Dear Heart
1-5-19
They think he's a loser, shrouded in shame,
A nameless face in the endless game.
But beneath the surface, where stories diverge,
A hero awaits, on the verge to emerge.
His trials unseen, his battles unspoken,
A heart unyielding, though bruised and broken.
He walks alone, embraced by the night,
Yet carries within a fire burning bright.
They scoff and sneer, blind to his plight,
But he knows his worth, his internal fight.
For every stumble, a step towards grace,
A journey unfolds at his own pace.
They think he's a loser, but little they know,
He's a warrior fierce, with courage that grows.
He'll rise from the ashes, his story untold,
To conquer the world, and his destiny, unfold.
I feel as if I’m inadequate,
No job and no money, worthless…
I’m sad and jealous…
I feel like a loser, with nothing
To show,
I feel fat and gross,
Internal battles are plaguing me…
I wish I looked different,
And had something to feel proud of…
I have nothing to contribute,
And I feel like a burden…
I wish I could go to this and this,
And buy lots of groceries…
My self-esteem is at a low,
I see nothing but flaws…
I hate looking at myself…
No job, fat, gross, worthless…
I feel like a loser…
In my eyes, everyone’s prettier,
More successful and skinnier…
I yearn for confidence…
I want so badly for money, and a REAL job…
Instead I’ve nothing,
It’s not that I don’t try,
I try so hard,
And with every day that passes,
No call, no emails,
I feel worse,
My heart gets heavier…
I don’t want to eat in fear
That I’ll gain weight,
I don’t like my arms, stomach, and legs…
My smile is crooked,
And I have two chins…
I’m tired of my internal struggles…
Hearing my thoughts all day…
I wish I felt better,
I’d give anything…
Bad guys,
I recognize the bad guys
some hate to lose
The big game
cross into the shade
A fast-paced ride
success is not a highway
... "the soul of America"
Everything
depends on who wins, I guess
Bad guys,
I recognize the bad guys
gossiping and greed
Backstabbing
evil be spoken
Manipulation
Triumph and torment
prepare for the next level
... "the soul of America"
~ the worst loser ever
10.11.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
I know my Damsel waits for me
Perhaps chained to some balcony
If I could only find the Key
I could set her free
The castle walls are high, I hear
Guarded by some guys, I fear
How to get inside's unclear
Planning this could take a year
This castle might just have a moat
I have no money for a boat
I can not swim, not even float
Boy, this gets my goat !
And in the moat, may dwell a fish
That thinks that I'm a tasty dish
It's not wise to take such risk
A thought, I really must dismiss
And if I got inside the gate
A dragon there, must surely wait
And eagerly anticipate
To meet with me and seal my fate
On second thought, I think I'll stay
On bended knee, I'll hope and pray
That eventually I'll find a way
And rescue her some other day
There was a stand-up joke maker
Whose act was a crowd shaker.
She was highly hilarious
But found to be nefarious.
Now her fans in hordes forsaker.
I enter the lottery discretely
For a dollar I do it quite cheaply
I’ve never won a cent
But this doesn’t prevent
Me from giving them my money weekly
There goes the Donald again, flapping his mouth
Every time he lets it fly, his ratings go South
And she who would be chief Constitutional vandal
The media just glossed over her latest scandal
Truly it’s a contest to see who’s the biggest loser
So put Jillian Michaels in charge; we could really use her
Is he nastier than her, or she worse than him?
Instead of the White House, get their butts to the gym
The true biggest loser, of course, is plain to see
The ordinary Americans like you and me...
8/2/16
Donald Trump- He's FIRED...yep, he's been tossed
Some say, he's been cheated...double-crossed
Geez, he still won't concede
How much time does he need
To admit to himself that he lost
Out On A Lim Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
11/22/2020
Daisy danced the wild dance of jealousy
Her dancing was her revenge weaponry
She did the can-can
To excite her man
Whom she had caught enjoying revelry.
She had been queuing at the bar for drinks
When suddenly Daisy had an instinct
She turned and what shock
He was in lip-lock
And most certainly enjoying high jinks.
So she danced, for her man was a loser
Should have left the alien much sooner
Her Dear John letter
Said she'd done better
And found herself a huge hearted bruiser.
Can we make it in this world without athletic talent
Can we make it in this world with sensitivity
Can we make it in this world with a hot head
Can we make it in this world without a nice girl
Can we make it in this world with enemies
Can we make it in this world with lost friends
Can we make it in this world with pessimism
Can we make it in this world without enthusiasm
Can we make it in this world with scars of emotion
Can we make it in this world with poetic ambitions
I think we can
I think I can
Sore loser they call me
But I wanna prove them wrong
I wrote this poem because one of my classmates called me a sore loser (hence the title)
and the one thing I wanted to do is prove him wrong (Written on 10.12.10)