Best Mischance Poems
I am a poor tailless cow.
The creator chases away my infesting flies.
I’m clotheless at the prime of the hamarttan
and my only blanket is my feebly tanned skin.
I’m barefoot on the pathful of thorns
and my teardrops reports my miseries to the earth.
I need love and in the midst of mates I go.
I’m trashed with the most painful looks,
and punched with the heaviest words.
My only crony thus remains my mischance.
Every right I’m denied.
And too bitter is my plea to the ears
of the unobliging heads.
My merit is always belittled,
and my promising tomorrow begrudged.
For every good I’m worth I’m sidelined—
that’s why I grow wild!
My fierce eye devoid of their leniency!
My ambition is rent into fragments—
that’s why I bust back so hard!
And in the end I’m felled,
taking my poetic justice.
I'm too nervous to resurface,
it's not that I'm worthless
or don't want to work for this,
my motive sits motionless.
Can I bring it to your attention
I need an intervention
to save me from selfish behavior,
a salvation of circumstances
serving me chances to be my own saviour,
challenging this circling hell that prances
unnerving me a certain future
of out of service hope and mischance
where I can't sense my humour.
I'm not stood with hands out
looking for handouts,
I just need that first time wind up
to get the engine ticking
and give reserves corrupt
and vigorous in control of my mind a good kicking.
It's as though I'm not the one that drives
this life I ride,
it's as though I'm not one with any drive,
a life without pride,
but I believe I can once again strive
if I find my stride,
I will breathe and bleed myself alive,
I might be lost but I've not died.
Misstep Paradise
by Odin Roark
Like the ocean’s waves repeating themselves,
mistakes love to revisit their beginnings,
gloat about their undertow power,
and patiently prepare the next towering breaker.
As if squawking gulls lining the landfall weren’t enough,
joining the prattle is the wind’s ever-repeatable,
“I told you so” oratory.
With ebb and tide behind them,
anxious errors reach progress once alive,
now but mazes of mischance,
ghost towns replete with obligatory tumbleweeds
scurrying past longevity’s sentinels of roaches and rodents
forever faithful to new arrivals.
Even as stored images of ethereal struggle
stay ensconced in supernatural satellites,
reality’s citadel of dust-caked walls and web-laced doorways
display shattered daguerreotypes,
torn photographs,
corrupted digital projections,
3D wanderings,
and holographic ghosts
of perfection’s folly,
holding fast to historical hubris,
mastery’s habitual bungling of headway.
At one end of actuality’s ghost town,
a dangling speaker bellows forth its ceaseless maxim:
“Misstep Paradise is all that matters,
as living life void of errors is to exist
without learning the monstrous reason for it all.”
Welcome to your personal shadow zone,
mind’s inner kingdom of fortuity,
where infinity’s turn-around sign of truth,
remains your chance to finally learn…
The cypress trees at water’s edge hedge an entrance.
We circle senseless, aimless, wheezing from the stench.
We are unprepared for this netherworld mischance,
this lifeless pool without birds where we entrench.
Drawn into the grotto leading to the abode of the dead,
we are alarmed to find the design is quite familiar.
Our handwriting and signatures cannot be misread.
All around our cacotopian creation seems so peculiar.
Dank alleys crowded; COVID corpses decompose.
Back when, we passively handed the reign of power
to a petulant fiendish bully we might not now depose.
His smirking cult spews contempt like a shower.
Meanwhile conspiracy capers cavort clucking tongues,
and we view our nihility specters, seeking our escape.
But this vortex germ befouls the air, attacking our lungs.
Our vertigo fatigue means our breakout can’t take shape.
This is long lost Avernus, the black hole of our making.
Thoughtless, this virus only preys on any for the taking.
I thought that I should say what I mean
On the subject of ‘****’ and its synonyms—
Derrida’s caveat notwithstanding.
We alternatively dub it turd, crap, poop, etc.
But the whole set of synonyms,
Given its connotation, is not politically correct.
Of course I do have my points.
It is true that the referent has
A lot of nuisance value
– as what is not –
And hence the connotation.
If you leave, for instance, a child
On a commode unattended…!
But you should respect it for some other reasons:
What if your **** refused to leave your bowels,
Or by chance or mischance mixed
With other solids (or fluids) in the body?
Or made hell as it left
The other end of the alimentary canal?
All that you may, then, insist upon is:
There’s a place for everything
And you don’t want ‘****’ in unwanted places.
Fine.
On the positive side, however,
What is **** to you is business
For a pathologist or physician.
So they would all call it sample,
Excrement, feces, refuse, etc.
For a farmer, it’s fertilizer.
So, s/he would call it night soil.
For civic workers, it’s rubbish.
So, why this negative connotation?
I’m not here to prescribe.
I am no Webster or Fowler.
I would, however,insist that
The present connotation should go!
***
FOR A MOMENT
Your cry isn’t loud enough for the world to hear
So wipe your tears.
Even your so called ‘friends and companions’ are turning deaf ears
Wipe your tears and look up to the hills, from there comes your help
Tears come from sorrow’s hole
Tears will continue to flow until you control your whole
Dilute your sorrow’s hole with joy,
And effervescence of smile will frizzle your tears
Don’t pamper that hurt inside, lest, it will linger
Letting go of is the best panacea
Embrace life’s vicissitude, and make peace with your past
Until there’s no tomorrow, fortunes are in life’s queue
For as mischance exists in life’s cast,
So is great chance.
Life can deny you of breakfast, but that breakfast may not be worth comparing with your brunch.
As you crunch, your life realizes that you can wait for tomorrow’s breakfast even if it denies you supper.
Sometimes, life makes you feel Charlie,
Especially when life gives you a malignant glare,
At a moment when you are in a state of ‘devil-may-care’
You are compelled to say cheerio to the world
Because life is using a brusque tone
But when you chance upon successes, you bury that decision
That’s life
Don’t escalate that hurt or pain when life confronts you
It’s just a fortune recess
Embolden your spirit and wait for the resume of success.
#sanguine, sangfroid, pertinacious#..That’s what you ought be……
When very young, we blindly may dismiss
Our elders’ admonitions about Time,
Or future grief or pain, for in that bliss
Who recks of illness, death, mischance, or crime?
And in our prime, with life’s distracting needs,
With open, seeing eyes, we still are blind:
We go our ways, and yet, while Time proceeds,
The passing hours are rarely brought to mind.
But when we're spared into our elder years,
We recognize the truth we used to mock:
That whether youth was fraught with joy or tears,
There is no hope of winding back the clock.
Use well the days, because with every breath,
Relentless Time will sweep us all toward death.
Bringing sins from my past
Into the present, a twinkling
Filling my thoughts, sprinkling
My heart in shadows to last
This feeling, this darkness
Colors my feelings in black
Doubt comes with it to attack
Leaving my heart with starkness
It brings depression and sorrow
Beyond any fears, tears or years
Silenced by the blackest affairs
Worrying the joyous in tomorrow
With his evil destruction, he abides
In the appalling abysmal of doubt
Where he feeds on every burn out
Thrives on the corruption, his guide
Some call him the devil, the fraud
Who invents new sins to upset you
Leaving hearts feeling less than blue
he just wishes he could be like God
He is my enemy from everlasting
I never want to give him the chance
To whisper his terrifying mischance
Through me, so sin is overcasting
I won’t give him the benefit of the doubt
I know his taunting is my heart’s rival
When he comes around, I need revival
So next time he takes another route
Listen to my prayer – today and forever
With God, all things are possible
So this road to my soul is uncrossable
Because I know God, he’s not so clever!
Pick-A-Title, Vol 35 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
1. Incubus
March 9, 2023
Look at me and say you blame me
Just don’t act like the jerk you normally tend to be
I am tired of pouring my heart out to you
I won’t despise you
You are like the amazing flu
You don't know how it feels
To see you stare at me
To come back to reality
To try and have normality
The day you left without a glance
Don’t think of me
if it’s just a mischance
I know you don’t want to hurt me
Your promises are all that matters
You are my knight in shining armor
You were such a charmer
I couldn’t live without you
I am sorry if I ever hurt you
Never meant to offend you
Love me like you used to
Hug me like we were true
Kiss me so strong so that hurt would shy away
Miss those precious and amazing day
Which to you were just an easy play
True love is so rare
And it’s not always fair
But that’s why it’s called life
You are my solution to a difficult problem
Everything looked so fearsome
You are that piece of art come out of blue
You don’t know what you mean to me
Because I am sure then you would never flee
My heart and soul will pine for you
But I hope life will shine on you
I don’t want to say good bye
You know I would rather die
I don’t want to argue
You know I love you
All I can say right now is
ADIEU…
H ow do memories retain the brilliancy of star’s vanes?
A nother time another place, would memories have such grace?
P erhaps, it’s simply distance, that works this mystery this mischance.
P oor substitute for touch this distance metaphoric rush.
Y oungsters apple cheeked blush, Gran’s lovingly shush.
N otice only the brightest twinkle in a baby eye or a mother’s guise.
E very fused image stays crisp and lovely for all days.
W orry need not intrude on the sentinels of solitude.
Y our heart’s delight will outshine any simple test of time.
E ndlessly remaining new, bright, young and warm.
A rriving at the end of even nights most darkened morn.
R oaring with star fire and flame ‘till all who’ve lived….live again.
My love
so you have a history
has the past then written it indelibly
all things you think you should be
you respond to all those things
conglomerate
with all the things you think you perceive
And the world does not equate
nor does it equal your tears
or measure your pain
look around you my love
tell me
is your laughter echoing in the world
when does the world touch
or appreciate the heights you have reached
Yes in sorrow you could
if you wish
forever weep
Ah, my love
I have seen you dance
I have watched you reach beyond
and struggle to be above
seen your spirit soar
and witnessed your gratitude
in eyes filled with tears
and lips brimming with smiles
Does the world now hammer you
into some unfitting and peculiar mold
are all those sad things now chiseled into stone
are they carved within you
have they hung their scarecrows in your soul
for the emptying of your heart
and do you fall prostrate before them
a victim
ah, my love
your unrecognized heroism makes you more than that
So you have a history
a life time of doubts and courageous I wanna be's
so the disappointments of all your expectations
never proved to you what you wanted them to be
so you tried and failed
you never knew you would succeed
and still the misappropriation of your intentions
seemed incongruent to your destiny
Is it then by mishap and mischance
that your life at times is defined by happy
has it not held you so close
to all those things you dreamed would be
did you loose them
or live them
within time and its passing scenery
does it matter now
did it matter then
or at any other point at which you choose to begin
each day to redefine your purpose and meaning
So my love
you have a history
and all its weight of yesterday
may drag with you into tomorrow
a typewritten record in your memory
can be depicting your triumphs
or be the tales of your sometime sad regret
does it really matter that it doesn't have any effect
upon this story in writing
this ever changing moment of your living
did you unwittingly forget
all you have today
Paint pots and magic at the stroke of a brush,
it’s the power of a picture for the lovers in lust.
The splashing of water and addition of choice,
it’s a musician’s beat, and the poets to rejoice.
Hungary caterpillars and the ladybugs dance,
it’s nature’s festival and the Devil’s mischance.
The warmth of summer’s night amongst a starry sky,
it’s the sparkle of lanterns drifting up to Shanghai.
The poets and the dreamers smear ink to the page,
it’s lyrical fluidity entwining a white witch’s sage.
The smells and the colours are a carnival of love,
it’s the power of family, drawing joyous tears up above.
Live in these moments and build memories to keep,
it’s time for our picture before we lose it to sleep.
So take my hand as we enter the tent to the light,
it’s an entrance to happiness and it’s just to your right.
I sat at the bottom of your
heavenly stair case,
looking at your face that
makes me abase.
Terror and fear runs down
my spine,
making it seems as if our
relationship may be twine.
My feet trembles at the
hearing of your name,
and my soul has been
sunken deep down in
shame.
Every cell in my body have
been swimming in sin,
making me to lose a
linchpin.
My soul has been cast
down to the last,
for every sinful deed i did in
the past.
If only i can go back in
time,
i will gladly erase every
done wrongs and crimes.
Because right now my soul
feel lost,
and am determined to get
it at all cost.
If only i can get one more
chance,
i will atone for all my
mischance.
Right now my whole life
has been torn apart,
and am been left with a
broken heart.
Every day i falls down on
my kneels,
and cry for the pains that i
right now feels.
Each day i keep asking
myself inside,
what i was thinking when i
left your side.
I keep streching to hold
back your loving hands,
because right now i
drowing in sin like am in a
quicksand.
I keep hoping to have you
back in my mind,
for you are the best
treasure anyone can ever
find.
I plea for the forgiveness of
all my sins,
and a chance for my soul to
be pristine.
I have choosen to walk
back in your holy path,
in order for me not to face
your wrath.
You have been so good to
me irrespective of my
iniquity,
erasing my evil deed with
your divine immunity.
I have choosen to love you
above everything that ever
existed,
and to follow you till death
even when am been
taunted.
For i finally realised that
you are the way, the truth
and the life,
whosoever that ever have
you will surely have
everlasting life.
I hope to see you smiling at
me in heaven,
for thats all what i have
been craven.
Because right now am
curious and eager,
to be with you in paradise
forever.
A man and woman on either side of a fence
For long strangers, once met by sheer chance
A spark of love was lit in an instance
Its flame was fanned through many a glance
And eventually got blazed into a hot romance
Until it was steadied through an alliance
Days and months flowed smooth in passionate romance
As man and wife they decided to live in perfect compliance
They often felt their minds go upbeat in a dance
Life breathed out a rare and sweet fragrance
And their faces always gleamed in bright radiance
They flitted like butterflies across life’s expanse
Over calm waters, they glided like a pair of swans
Around their future, they braided umpteen plans
There was always a spark of glitter in their glance
Never once they suspected any mischance
After a year, their love was tested through penance
Days slouched on without any parlance,
Until their life was couched in dumb silence.
In secret, they nursed many a grievance,
And saw each other with a vengeance.
This often took a turn of violence
From this bondage, they longed for riddance
And through a divorce, finally sought a deliverance!
( to be continued)
Sept.23.2022
Chapter. 1. Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Matt Caliri
My only uncle on the other day,
Was riding on his bike this way.
He was riding in a hurry burry manner,
I don't know what was the matter.
Suddenly his bike skidded over the road,
He fell down laying like a lifeless toad.
A cab driver passing saw my uncle's mischance,
The quadragenarian just spared a glance .
A child who came that way saw the scene,
Came for his help immediately the tween.
He tried lifting the big tall man,
Using all the strength as he can.
My uncle sat on the pavement for sometime,
And the boy gave him some water in the meantime.
After making sure he was fit and fine,
The boy went away like some angel that is divine.
My uncle came home with a small bruise,
And said that the boy must be able to muse;
Everyone older and younger than him,
Though he knew he was too small and slim;
Yet never hesitated to give a helping hand,
Making humanity in this world expand.
11-March-2017