What fate can be worse than this
That she’s there, mood too, but not rain.
And a luck far worse than this--
I reach, wait, she misses the bus.
What kind of justice be this--
Bliss but to her, banes to bless me.
Come to kiss me, O my fate,
Wish my hard luck a hideous hell.
If not, change thy loaded dice,
Relieve my luck from its ill lease.
But then, whose fate is so fair?
To get the juice one has to squeeze.
____________________________
Tongue-in-cheek |15.07.2026 | fate, justice, kiss, luck, rain, couplets,
The whimsical part of the heart,
Wisdom never depart.
The acumen sigh of gesture,
Straightened your posture.
When you say go straight,
I should walk through the street.
When you see a winding road,
Don't catwalk, go sideway off load.
Don't get hard on discipline,
Hard wood still can be plane.
Ambition not in lavish happiness,
Get instructions by doing ease.
When you humble, things favor you
All hearts agree you one day so.
As the ice cream melts, sweet remain
Harden not your heart from refrain.
When life is hard, luck not your side
Don't let the day ruin and hide.
It's just a bad day, not all the time
Love your work, it will give you more dime.
This Dame no longer believes in luck
even my existence doesn’t make it real
I’m the spitting image of prosperity
still she doesn’t believe.. not at all
sitting here wishing for another time
another day another melancholy face
what turned your brandy bitter
what turned all those dreams sober
eyes that would always roll the dice
that inner light has become so dim
an ace card thrown one too many times
whenever you recite a hard luck rhyme
but you gotta feel it in your bones
As Sinatra said ‘Luck be a lady tonight.’
A wrestlers kapi pup born in the town of Porapoo
Red Dog~The Pilabara wonderer with lurid tales' legion
A bold spirited canine he, an Aussie through and through
Roaming free the red earth of the wide Northwestern region
He pawed a ride with John, an iron miner, when lost.
They became close mates, good sports to remember.
But drinking and poker took their grim cost.
John was gunned down in 'ts, the first day of September.
Now as Red Dog roamed quietly unconsoled
Cars, buses and trucks offered him rides, hugs and food.
For his hard-luck story had been told and retold
With good Aussies determined to brighten his mood
For the rest of his days Red Dog roamed about
Stopping cars now and them for food and a ride
His loud flatulations signaled 'twas time to get out.
With nature his friend and kind folks who abide
Pilbar mourned with muted disbelief,
When the poisoned body of Red Dog was found
A bronze statue stands for friends to bow in grief.
May Red Dog rest well in his much-loved native ground.
I was born in a landlocked getaway town
Where all the colors were black, gray, or brown.
Jobs at the steel mill were ratcheting down.
It was not in my future to stay.
So, I took a long walk off a very short pier,
An unschooled, untraveled recruit buccaneer
On a quest to cross Neptune’s vast salty frontier.
Hopped a slow boat to China one day.
Underway on the Crescent City, it seemed
The ocean was wider than I’d ever dreamed.
A ship load of sinners, our souls unredeemed
Steaming west toward whatever there was.
Keelung told Hong Kong to call Singapore.
Subic Bay badgered Mombasa for more.
Sea legs, as always unsteady ashore,
Even more so with liquor and drugs.
Bilge water sloshed in the depths of the hold.
The mizzen mast learned what the typhoon foretold.
I was sea duty tempered and Shell Back enrolled;
Wasn’t nothing but maritime norm.
I was born in a hard luck blue collar town.
Half the way broken and half the way down.
But time gifts its renaissance scepter and crown
To a jack tar who’s weathered the storm.
Tatters the clown had brought joy to so many;
But of intense personal joys, he had not any.
Hard luck trailed him, as it sometimes will do,
As dark clouds chase the sun, in skies of blue.
He faced various losses, that made him weep,
Deaths and monetary, by getting in too deep!
Children laughed gaily, to see Tatters coming,
As blooms in silver moonlight, most becoming!
After the joy of his giving, he's left this world,
And now brings smiles to heaven, white pearls.
His luck has since changed, he is happy at last,
In the way one is, after smiles have amassed.
Written on 1/5/2023
For: TATTERS Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Vlad Putin was dealing with state affairs
On his way back he skidded down the stairs
You could smell the foul gas
Cos' he ruptured his a.s.s
No get well wishes because nobody cares.
He'd fallen over and broke his a.s.s. bone
A guard rushed over when he heard a moan
Hard luck you commie jerk
Cos' it's karma at work
Start praying now for your sins and atone
Written on 2nd December 2022.
when my winnings hit the news, relatives climbed into my windows.
great aunts and uncles, sixth cousins, uncles twice removed.
some families stormed over to demand their due with no connection.
you remember me – yes, I do, the neighbor who never waves back
heard hard luck stories that topped one another fast and furiously
I bought myself a new identity, new face, new name.
had to leave my family behind because they did not want new faces. I
I left half my winnings with them, as that was fair.
ex-husband keeps calling me, begging me to take the money back.
he has big trouble since the divorce settlement was announced.
I am in the Bahamas where there are no crying children or ex's.
a good looking man in lying the green plastic beach lounger.
I suck in my stomach and try to look chic.
He smiles and I smile.
He has great teeth and a sweet tan.
“Hey, aren’t you that gal who won the lottery?”
Misfortunate life tangled us like goofy hair.
We try to release this tangled miserable with care.
But we got tangled more when we took it lightly.
We need to open our mind to tackle and beat it proudly.
We can make our unfair or hard luck into our favor.
We the human beings have the biggest weapon called brain.
Our brain can solve the problem with ease.
If we can remove negative thoughts and grow positive thinking.
Resemblance is a brief conceptual imagination.
We need not to become like Lord Jesus or Buddha or anything.
Our own experience will tell the whole story.
Our passion will create our Imagination.
Our will power going to make us what we dreamed before.
Our hard working capacity will reach the destination in time.
As Julius Caesar said before “I came, I saw, I conquered”
Now I say a thing but not much similar meaning to Caesar.
I say “I born, I saw, I observed, I loved, I achieved”
I came to this philosophy after I haunted by misfortune.
But then I made my path with those characteristic.
Woe is me, Oh woe is me!
Life is so unfair.
I know all sometimes have hard luck,
But not more than their share.
I live beneath a darksome cloud.
I think I have been cursed.
The minute things seem to abate,
Something makes it worse.
My home life is an argument.
My job is just the pits.
I get no rest, I get no peace,
Sometimes I want to quit.
Quit my marriage, quit my job,
And run away and hide;
But where on earth can I go?
The world is not that wide.
Food and shelter are a must,
No matter where you are.
One must needs support oneself,
Or else you won't get far.
Where'er you go, what'er you do,
You'll have the self same problems.
It's how you handle them that counts.
It's the way you solve them.
You must do it on your own.
No one can do it fr you.
It's called "growing up" my friend.
Just like all those around you.
"Better days" Part Two
Down and broke. Had no mattress on the floor, sleeping on the tiles, got frosted and caught a flue.
Had nothing to eat, no Hope just chaotic predicaments, confrontations and a season of hard luck. Tears on granny' s face and no fees for the kids.
But one day!
It all changed, it was the rebirth of Jonah to David the Victor, the Survivor!
Those days gone, now a memento l cannot quite recall, it does not matter for today is a new day.
A new dawn, luck on my side, cloud nine my couch. No more hunger pain!
Pockets deep like the Pacific ocean.
'Every dog, has it's day.' That's what they say and it is indeed true.
Blessings on blessings, doors opening quick, swift decisions. Buffets, Barbeques and lots of treasure like a Lepacon' s layer.
Betters days!
The both, my Parents, mom, too, are dead now,
And what a thing that is to have to know.
I really can’t get up and have a cow,
But smiles, sometimes, seem they are all for show.
And now, to other twists of laughing fate!
My mother died, but two weeks from my wife.
My father died, nine days before my birthday.
I seem to have a gift for calling strife!
My sister lost her mom a week before
Her birthday, and she says dad said goodbye
Around that time – hard Luck nailed shut the door
In August and September, thus, we’ll cry!
O, what a comedy of hurts is this!
No wrinkled, or rough-whiskered cheek to kiss!
He goes by the name of Dizzy, for he is a dancing dervish
On the banjo his fingertips always pick’n a lively tune
His mama was from Dixie and his papa was a busking man
They lived a simple life sharing music on the streets
Or playing the lowland bars on a rowdy Thursday night
Now Dizzy is bent and even a bit stooped, all grizzled with grey
A slow shuffling man whose hard luck never got him down
Every Friday noon you’ll find him sitt’n with the AA folks
Following along and do’n the steps, his banjo playing a song
Then he heads off downtown to his favorite corner spot
Dizzy remembers his papa preforming here not many years ago
As his fingers tingle to feel the vibrations on the strings
He releases the notes of the banjo’s twang and his little jig step
He bows to the memory of his mama, blowing her a little kiss
He’s the last of his family and his name is Dizzy Danny Dubois
Whoever finds themselves alone,
To make their bed a slab of stone,
Goes there but for the grace of I
To contemplate the reason why.
Who knows the journey each have led?
The horrors which they may have fled.
Financial ruin is one such fate,
Or just hard luck, the loss is great!
And so, a life where pride is lost
To forage bins at any cost.
Where passersby will turn their heads
To go home to their comfy beds.
A placard scratched out more in hope
Disguises that they fail to cope
And thus, the empty cups reveal
The hopelessness they can’t conceal.
The cold and bitter winters night,
The cardboard box for which they’ll fight,
May stave off hypothermia
But do little for insomnia!
It’s miserable to say the least,
The fact that they will never feast
Or just to shower, enjoy a cuddle,
Instead a lowly fire they huddle.
Have we now become so cruel?
Whereby society will often drool
On celebrities who matter not,
Whilst these poor souls are thus forgot!
You make me want to believe in something;
That’s not easy;
Not when you’re used to a hard luck story
covered in spikes and blackened hearts;
You make it easy to have faith;
What is it about you?
I hope I’m not a pebble on your covered road;
I hope I’m not a face that you already looked away from;
I’m slowly trying to rebuild something
that’s been broken way too long;
I should probably tell you that;
But how can I when I am surrounded by rules?
You make me want to make a crazy decision.
You let me stop thinking.
I need what you give me but only if it’s real.
I’m ready to talk, when you’re ready to listen.
It’s not easy, but I want to believe in something;
I’m not sure what to tell you
all I know is I really want to, don’t let me down;
You make it so easy
to fall completely for that drinkable smile;
You feel just like a daydream;
Just don’t spin me around
if you’re not ready to catch me;
Because I want so badly to believe in you,
That’s not easy,
but Im ready to let go of this hard luck story.
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