The crowd stomped, the crowd screamed, PUT IN FORD!
The coach screamed, PUT IN FORD!, the crowd ROARED!
Hail Mary saved the day,
Ford fifteen feet away...
Fate ignored, Ford got floored, never SCORED!
12/4/2021
Being hated does not mean,
you have to hate,
If you believe,
you can change the fickle finger of fate.
All twisted up,
with clowns and fools,
Trying to build your fortress,
with the wrong tools.
Always willing,
to pay the cost,
If you stay stagnant,
forever lost.
Everything that brings comfort,
disappears it's gone,
For the love of GOD,
just hold on.
Seeking answers,
you will never find,
As you mature,
you realize it's a state of mind.
It lives deep,
within the brain,
No action,
then it remains the same.
Stay focused,
on the task at hand,
Try not to make promises,
nothing goes as planned.
Do not allow others,
to sail your ship,
In the face of danger,
keep a stiff upper lip.
Most things work out,
they always do,
Never let the problem,
get bigger you.
TURBO1904
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.
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
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.
She was a frequent flier
of the flights of fancy and
her life was often left to
the fickle finger of fate.
ALesiach © 9/30/2015
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
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….
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