Long Accident prone Poems
Long Accident prone Poems. Below are the most popular long Accident prone by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Accident prone poems by poem length and keyword.
I looked it up on Google,
Read the turgid prose,
Did the questionnaire
Was very quickly diagnosed.
So many things now
Suddenly fell into place
After a lifetime's experience
Of constantly losing face.
No longer the clumsy oaf,
No longer the thickie spastic,
No longer the bumbling fool,
I'm just mildly dyspraxic.
After more than fifty years
Since that last games day,
Always the last to be picked
For any team I played.
That evil Drill Pig who reduced
Me to tears on the square
Just because I made a mess
Of the squad practicing there.
My reflexes then being
Far far too slow:
I was still coming to a stop
As he was shouting go.
The panic on the mid shift
A huge report to type
And my teleprinter skills
Just turning out tripe.
People screaming at me
With a job to complete
And the looming deadline
I never managed to beat.
I've struggled all through life
Trouble with physical skill
Just getting through
By sheer force of will.
All these years of not
Being able to understand
That lack of coordination
Between my brain and hand.
So, I'm not just a useless bugger,
Clumsy and thick as a brick,
I've got a brain wiring problem
I'm just a mild Dyspraxic.
It doesn't solve the problem
But at least I now know why
I tend to make a mess of
Most physical things I try.
So, if I'm walking past you
And somehow catch your feet,
Or, if I stumble and abruptly
Crash into your seat
And grin as I apologise
Please don't think I don't care
It's just the defence I use
To cover up my despair.
There’s a strength in knowledge:
I no longer feel quite so alone,
The sting gone from most cracks
About being accident prone.
So here I am,
And I am me,
And just that bit of knowledge
Has finally set me free
Buried here is the weather man J. P. Blithing
Forgot his brolly and got struck by lightning
In this vault is the flat coffin of J.J. Stowler
Fell into the path of a runaway steam roller
In this grave lies the ashes of Jim Fortescue
Got drunk and passed out on a barbecue
Buried below in two halves is Arthur. P. Law
Slipped in his workshop onto a circular saw
Interred a hundred feet below in a lead lined coffin
Are the glowing remains of an accident prone boffin
Lying in this vault is the body of a tiger
Inside its body is the hunter J. Stiger
Buried below in a jar are the pickled remains of P. Stringer
Who stumbled and drowned into a large vat of malt vinegar
Written 23 September 2021
Shall I relay a sidesplitting hoot from my “care-free” on campus fun phase?
It entails a laboratory session involving three mystic world colossal oafs.
One had an unerring penchant for Laurel and Hardy mishaps, the other this beautiful dreamer whose attention span rambled for miles.
a meandering focal point tourist with no yen for one spot or one task.
As for me the fault-prone narrator I had comic book deficits too.
Pulitzer Prize petty fog pinpoint, fastidious fat head by gum!
At the hearth of this tale is a chemistry prep that was doomed from an innocent outset.
It was aptly enough “Anodyne,” this soon to be splitting head bushfire.
From uproarious weighing scale howlers, to starter material gaffes, to say nothing of sequential missteps, Mount Everest blunders galore.
Our ill-fitting glassware threw tantrums, miscellaneous beaker’s burst dams, reactants rose up, a calamitous farce, they shed buckets of organic stuff down the sink.
For all my precision I seemed a right goof with this risible maximum brownie point fetish.
My beautiful dreamer close comrade who by turns Walter Mitty pale stand-in now immune to chaotic abandon at large.
That accident-prone other pal
would be every insurer’s worst nightmare.
Nearby class mates could barely restrain widespread glee at us laughing stock hapless quaint bunch.
The poor teacher in charge had a seizure, quite gormless, green faced and gobsmacked.
“I wonder what next can go wrong.”
“Quite frankly I shudder to think as you merry buffoons soldier on.”
This thunderstruck teacher was known as the “doyen of do it right down to the dottiest detail.”
After a humorous pause his eyeballs rotate in jocular mode then made a ginormous grand gesture.
“Put this jinx ridden self-destruct day in some tuck away memory file.”
“Write a one page report, say the gremlins prevailed and I’ll give you an average mark.”
“For goodness sakes don’t blow this offer like you’ve nearly blown
up my whole group.”
On an ironic note “doyen do it right” gave a brief safety course start of term.
It seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I’ll be blowed as my parents once said when life took a damned awful turn.
We three “Einsteins” in technical garb almost were, blowed that is!
Posted ; 11th January 2022
Having read the news as we continue our life's displays
It's similar news to them, when our parents were young
It's towards sad to tragic as we just don't seem to learn
What do we bring to the table, what do us humans yearn
Beirut, Syria, whether deliberation, or accident prone?
It's similar news to them, when our parents were young
Famine, floods, fighting, bloods, all on today's phones
Just what have we learnt from the tips of our tongues
Will we keep reading the news as continuous life flays
It's now similar news to us, we've not learnt when young
We're towards sad to tragic as our learning's lost it's turn
What do we bring to the table, what do us humans yearn
Tip's of Women?
Lounge flushed
In delusion
I plays
Issues of wear
And weather's are vain
Tip's of women
Tied entrances
As low as old war
Gushes enter our floor
Isn't hours tasking?
Asnt looming often rooming
Rooms join dolls bury
Hands praying? So ways say
Papers run in the filled nights
Breaking ideas, counts, verses, checks
On tables and on the mind
City damsels, men aren't rhymes
Okay honey man
Driftwood apartments
Kevin issues jazz
You accident prone today
Chaska home
I have been behind San Francisco Paris
Says speaks for itself
Fearless abandon
Call on shores
Runned in
Hip at the door
Night the session
Strange moon wander in question
Illusive paints
Harken of tame
Tara I uncover
Repent dowry upon my branch
Eyes drafting midnight
Hourglass tarnish adventures
Lost rehearsal
I'd like to help you
but I'd have to go
far far out of my comfort zone
become accident prone
I'd have to face the bullets
and I have no bullet proof vest
on my chest
It's naked and bare
It's not that I don't care...
I'd like to help you
but I'm kind of helpless right now
don't ask me how
I got to this state
Anyway...it's too late
I see you drown
and I frown
unhappy with your Ophelia like mess
Yet...I do confess
I'd really like to help you,
but then....
where were you
when I was going down
about ready to drown...
Oh yes!
I remember!
You were "out of town"
I didn't see your face
there was no proffered grace
for me
none that I could see
I was strangely alone
forlorn
in my storm...
I'd like to help you, but you see
You never helped me
never took a bullet to save
watched me lowered to poetic grave
never deflected an arrow
that shot down this sparrow
never thought of going
out on the proverbial limb
cause you knew the outcome was grim
Not only
did not you offer a hand
but you joined the lynching band
Tearing asunder...
You joined in their thunder
and, yes, though it pains me to hear
your call for me to be near
as you flail in the tide
wanting me by your side
finally, devoid of pride,
I now know I must confide...
I'd like to help you, but you see
you never helped me
I'm not that steady,
and I don't feel ready
to help you now
I'd be dragged down somehow
I've just crawled out of the grave
I don't think I can save
someone...
who
never
ever
helped
me!
Eileen Manassian
My husband is in many ways the opposite of me.
Were he to make a left turn along a route, I’d go right inevitably.
Astrologically, he’s emotional (double water) but I’m a stable triple earth.
He rarely laughs, not even at a comic’s show, while I enjoy mirth.
As time went on, I realized he really was a nut.
Had he been a shoe, he’d be a heavy boot, always kicking butt.
Impatient, tactless, rude and often feeling out of joint,
he handcuffed himself to an official’s chair just to make a point.
A self-made gung-ho contractor within years he became.
But being accident prone, himself he often would maim.
Jack-hammered his own foot, fell two stories off a roof,
nearly removed his thumb with a saw (to give you a little proof).
He yelled a lot, got scammed, got stabbed, and had a nervous breakdown,
but he’s not the type of man to easily go down.
He learned to recognize the damage done to himself and his brother
from being raised and controlled by a narcissistic mother.
Once he got on pills for anxiety and depression,
the second half of our married years saw great lessening of aggression.
He worked a bit as a bounty hunter when building got too slow
and drove trucks long-distance too. Over half the states he’d go.
He aggravates me even now, but he’s much more mellow.
He’s loyal and never could be accused by someone as acting yellow.
Though physically afflicted, we’re both at ease with one another today.
And if he were a shoe, he’d be an old worn slipper - tough boot tucked away.
I broke my ankle badly yesterday in a fall.
I had no intention of going back to work at all.
A friend offered her holiday house for me stay.
I accepted immediately as I needed to get away.
I arrived to a little cabin all cozy and neat.
On the mat ‘Welcome, Please, wipe your feet.’
Inside it was furnished in old world style.
Looked like no one had been there for a while.
Limping, I dragged all my luggage inside,
And went round opening all the curtains wide.
Outside was silent and still, not hearing a peep.
I could see it would be easy to get some sleep.
I started a fire and then fixed a quick snack.
My foot on a stool and I reclined right back.
Through the window I peaked, a man was there.
At first all I could do was stand and stare.
He knocked hard so I opened the door
He politely asked, “What are you here for?”
“I live here, well no, my friend owns this place.”
“Ahh, you know my sister? Is that the case?
Did she tell you that her brother, part-owner,
Chooses to stay here and be quite a loner?”
I replied “There is only one bed, you cannot stay.”
“You are harsh, I have come quite a long way.”
“Well I guess I cant kick a part owner out.
Sleep on the sofa and only quietly move about.”
“You know you are lucky that I am here.
It’s on the radio about an escaped convict to fear.
Being a strong man I will protect you from harm.
So you can stay relaxed and feel very calm.”
“Well that is fine but I don’t yet know your name.”
“Hasn’t my sister mentioned my name? That’s a shame.
My name is Jackson, but I prefer Jack, How do you do?”
“I am Geraldine, but Gerry if its all the same to you,
Here are blankets and pillows, Anything you need?
I am off to bed, I seem to be very tired indeed.”
I went to bed, my friend called my cell phone.
She said “How’s my friend who is accident-prone?
Did you find everything, is there anything you lack?’
“Well, I found your brother” “I don’t have a brother” she answered back.
Conquering Pain
(Through Mental Toughness)
Written: by Miracle Man
10-9-2019
I try not acknowledging that nemesis pain,
I view pain as a temporary irritation.
I won’t surrender, letting it become my bane,
Unless brought on by some ablation.
Any lacerations, I’ve always viewed as minor,
Whether stapled, sutured, glued or such.
Though some have produced a dandy shiner,
I’m not accident prone nor am I a soft touch.
From a seven hour stay in the ER I Just came,
For my eleventh sew, staple job on my head alone.
Each scar tells a story that’s never the same,
My twenty six scars began long before grown.
If hospital administered on an irregular basis,
Pills become my crutch for temporary relief.
I find pain a frame of mind in most cases,
And I avoid the road that might lead to grief.
I’ve seen a lot of days and some have been rough,
And a few of them has brought some scorch.
But if your like a Pit Bull who thinks he’s tough,
You won’t let fear keep you tied to the porch.
Seed has been sown
Plead leave us alone
Need is well known
Greed has still grown
Breed should disown
Heed pay to the tone
Creed they do hone
Feed the tech throne
Read how AI’s flown
Teed up by stuff we own
Bleed artists dry bemoan
Disagreed its just on loan
Deed for which won’t atone
Speed of the takeover shown
Agreed dosh their only cologne
Cede control then cover blown
Concede another culture cyclone
Pete’s hunks need more testosterone
Cash spunks on brash tatt tw*t clone
Junk AI monks are our new chaperone
Us all chunks of the prankster toblerone
Or debunk gangster sunk like Al Capone
Stampede like fossil fuel vulture & ozone
Guaranteed more war in store using a drone
Succeed and it will be society’s gravestone
Swede dazzled then frazzled by your phone
Supersede just show a bit of backbone
Knead our own head instead we all moan
Refereed by us or burns like Sierra Leone
Impede vent & hell bent they’re accident prone
Lead the way we say kill shrill capitalist crone
Freed the tech giants are finally overthrown
Mead swig sunk get drunk in that party zone
Weed smoked of course a big fat skunk cone…