Long Bad luck Poems
Long Bad luck Poems. Below are the most popular long Bad luck by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bad luck poems by poem length and keyword.
My dear unborn child,
Take a moment to be still
While I narrate to you
Life in pithy sentences
It is a phenomenon in which
Sweetness and Bitterness
Make strange bedfellows
On the Sweet Side
Lie Joy, Happiness, Blessing
Favour, Wealth, Knowledge,
Good Health, Wisdom and
Strength
On the Bitter Side
Exist Sorrow, Hardship, Hunger
Pain, Poverty, Bad Luck, Foolishness
Bad Health and Weakness
But these, I hope,
Will not be your lot
Having lived long on the Bitter Side
I am making plans and efforts
To see that that you come to
The Sweet Side of Life
So please bear with me
For keeping you long at bay
It is so that when you come
To this world, like a few others,
You might also have a say.
In today's world where a locked door is never far away,
And nothing ever seems to be quite secure enough,
We need to be prepared for when we are locked out, locked in
Or locked up.
Locked out because we upset our spouse,
Or lost our keys and had neglected to pay the cost of a second hand car for a
Spare set.
Or we forgot to renew our online subscription,
Or were rude on facebook.
Or decided to become a vertual pirate.
Locked in because we did not read the terms of the contract,
Or because we lost track of time when working late,
Or because we live in a dangerous neighbourhood,
Or because the lift stopped working and we don't do stairs,
Locked up because we came up before the wrong judge,
Or did not pack our own luggage,
Or we took a selfie in a restricted area,
Or we forgot we were in Rome.
If we have even the slightest tendency for bad luck.
We could be locked out, locked in and locked up all at the same time.
If we are not prepared for all of today's locking situations.
A YEAR TO FORGET
We all have times we’d like to forget, it’s true
Perhaps a moment, a day, a month or year
One must discard the old and embrace the new
I think there’s a time and a place to shed a tear
But this year just past may justify a flood
And maybe I’ll say I don’t give a damn, my dear
For some bad luck may even run in the blood
There’s those who always moan and complain
For whom the sky’s never blue but more like mud
They say there’s a kind of trick, for staying sane
You put the past away and then forget it
Release the tap so it leaks out from your brain
One is owed a future bright without that pain
And to never have a year like that again
"Lake Tear in the Clouds" was an indescribably pretty scene
Lewis Pugh hiked in the rain; clouds lifted, he felt serene.
He dove in, swam through hemlock, maple, ash and birch
An adventure starting in nature's wooden church.
Vanderwhacker Mountain, Bad Luck Pond and "Flowed Land"
Through turbulent "Opalescent River", hand over hand
He saw beavers, osprey, an eagle in the sky
Just 300 miles to go, an experience you can't buy.
The tides reach Troy and pure fresh waters cease
So Lewis often swam at night, in quiet and in peace
He would do the backstroke to gaze at the Milky Way
Sometimes the romance of night surpassed that of the day.
A blue moon was rising, the river bathed in light,
The dark waters glowed beneath the stars of night.
Past the Catskills the sun rose, and he was still on a roll
He looked east at Poet's Walk where writers used to stroll.
He passed 200 feet under the Walkway that once was used for rail:
The longest footbridge in the world, and it connects to a long bike Trail
Then Breakneck Ridge, named when a bull fell off the wall
He passed the Croton River, where Paddleboarders try not to fall.
He passed the little park where I often take my mom
People sit there on lawn chairs, tranquil and calm
Past the Palisade cliffs, and the cycling road below
Past the north end of Manhattan and the Spuyten Duyvil flow.
Past the Cloisters with its Unicorns and medieval art
Past the place where Dad first stayed, ambition in his heart
Lewis joined the Hudson's legends, and he made a lasting mark
When he climbed soaking but happy, at the end, at Battery Park.
City dwellers may take the river as a backdrop, mundane, just a given
Some people live walled-in lives, it might be better to be driven
Henry Hudson found here "as pleasant a land as one can explore"
Try looking at the familiar with new eyes, let’s go down to the shore.
Winning the Lottery
Yes, I dream of winning the Lottery,
Hitting the jackpot on a Saturday night.
Oh, it’s so wonderful to imagine,
So, I cross my fingers and hold them tight.
Our George bemoans his bad luck,
All these years, not even a Tenner.
He told me that a couple from up Orkney,
Won Five million, Mr and Mrs Jenner.
Now I don’t want a fortune,
Just to be comfortable, would be nice.
I could buy me a shiny new sports job,
Without thinking about it twice.
A holiday to the Island of Barbados,
Under tropical skies, that sounds grand.
Or perhaps a Mediterranean cruise,
Lazing on deck, getting tanned.
I would have to update my wardrobe,
With a suit from Ralph Lauren.
A few shirts with the label of Versace,
Oh, and Designer shoes by Donna Karan.
We may have to move from the terrace,
Buy a cottage in the countryside.
Or better still a bungalow by the sea,
With a Veranda, to sit watching the tide.
I could afford to have Guitar lessons,
Learn to play blues like Jimmy Page.
Imagine that, me becoming a rock star,
With adoring groupies at front of stage.
Now, I won’t see our Emily go short,
and I’ll give a bit to John and Jilly.
I’d better return Danny’s Lawnmower,
and give that borrowed Twenty back to Billy.
I could retire and take it easy,
No more working long shifts over-night,
Slaving for that Miserly McGregor,
He’s loaded but so flaming tight.
In truth, I’d leave without notice,
And tell him just where to stick it.
My wife say’s stop daydreaming Jim
You’ve never even bought a ticket.
FRIDAY THE 13TH
Usually counting down Fridays
Friday is actually Friday the 13th
A day that is traditionally superstitions
Surrounded by bad vibes bad luck,
Spooky superstitions, bad situations
General bad feeling of terrible luck.
Not exactly a day anyone looks forward toward
Because many people just expect the worst.
Don't walk under ladders, or break that glass
Black cats, bad luck if come cross you path
Now Friday the 13th is seen as unlucky day
None believers will pray
Whether should expect terrible situations
This is also a day when people tend to be extra superstitious
Worried bout things like black cats crossing their path
Through this day dealing with many unlucky situations
So next time you walk under a ladder
Look up, Oh!! no wait watch out for that anvil
04/13/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2018©
butterflies form a kaleidoscope of myths
boon or bad luck, depends on your own pick
their metamorphosis from crawlers to flyers
may be magical; each stage giving us a trick.
caterpillars seem to be crooked creatures,
busy measuring branches with their hairy legs
seemingly plotting, trying to cheat poachers
while eating and nibbling at the leaf pegs.
cocoons portray a ‘potential’ to transform
despite being introverts and kept in hiding
they also symbolize strength and protection
and butterflies glorify earth’s fertility tiding.
arousing jealousy of the goddess Venus
Psyche, a beauty, a butterfly, a fairy soul
romanced the god Eros in a valley of flowers
and underwent pain before achieving her goal.
a night butterfly attracted by the flame
has to get burnt in it to become immortal
reflecting on the trials that must be endured
before knowing the joys of crossing the portal.
a butterfly seen as an emblem of soul
is closely related to the Morning Star
whose existence in the day symbolizes
life of soul even after death without a scar.
hordes of southward migrating butterflies
signal that cold weather is fast approaching
a butterfly is also seen to be a messenger of rain
helps nature’s beauty in spreading and broaching.
Date:18.5.2016
Forty years have slipped By
Out of thought, far from my minds eye.
No more images of – no tears do I cry.
You have been gone these forty years.
No more does my memories hoard shed tears
for what the Grand took form me,
rivers flooding, towards the sea.
For thirty years, you haunted my soul.
Bad luck was all I came to know.
On the anniversary, thirtieth year, I did show
you, it was time to move on, time to let go
of this plane, this time - 3rd month, 13th day, 1973 –
forgive yourself, forgive me and let it all be.
That moment in time, history
it seems, no longer is it my story.
I completely forgot about you.
I guess that is what time will do,
leave bitter sweet moments of time,
the memories of, what was yours and mine.
There has come this time, come the stage
were upon we play out our parts in rage
then for the rest of life, stand in the wings
and watch others, who know other things
that to our waning life, bring
sweet notes only angles may sing.
Fate ?, fear ?, my friend - I can not say,
all I know, is that I lived to see another day
and for many, many years I did pray
that your soul, your spirit would slip away,
no longer be the apparition people did see,
no longer be the force that haunted me.
B. J. “A” 2
March 25th 2013
I was on my first walk of the new year…feeling happy…healthy and rested…
I had no idea in front of The Church of the Good Shepherd…my faith in myself and my fellow man would be tested.
As I arrived in front of the church…across the street a young man…to me unknown…was yelling over and over again….”Hey Siri!” into his phone.
When I saw him I waved…although I admit my wave was a bit half-hearted…when he saw me he said, “Hey dude, can you help me?” Dude, I would find out, is how all his sentences started.
He was out partying with friends on New Year’s Eve and, apparently still feeling the effects…he didn’t notice when his Uber driver dropped him off at the wrong address.
He told me where he lived…I said he just needed to make a couple of corrections…for he was nowhere near his home…and he was walking in the wrong direction.
He wanted to call his sister but his phone was dead…his bad luck this fact underscores
but when he saw the phone in my hand he asked, “Dude, can I borrow yours?”
He crossed the street…I handed him my phone…then he paused a moment because…after everything that he’d been through…he didn’t know where he was.
I told him the address…he called his sister and told her how his night had gone astray…
She told him to stay right where he was…she was on her way.
He said, “Dude, thanks for saving my life.” I figured it was still the alcohol talking…
And knowing he was safe now…I continued with my walking.
But I could hear him as I walked away saying ,”Dude, thanks I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t here to find me…followed by more Dude, thank yous and Dude, God bless yous echoing behind me.
As I turned for home I began to worry…since I left him there alone…
If his sister found him and picked him up…so I called her number now on my phone.
She didn’t answer so I left a message….then continued…homeward bound…
she sent me back a text thanking me…saying he was safe and sound.
If I see him again I might admit I thought twice about helping him in the dark as screaming down the street he roamed…but more than likely I’d just smile and say,
“Dude…I’m glad you made it home.”
Some people have drama every day.
Their house burned down three times this week.
They are wearing a cast on their leg again.
Their dog ran away, dragging her dog house.
Their wedding ring popped off and down a sewer drain.
They discovered their husband has three other wives.
I know one of these Bad Luck Queens quite well. She is always stirred up.
Loud and proud, a horror story, and perpetually late to work besides.
Notoriously late, expectedly late. Let’s call her Agnes.
She has the worst luck every day. A strange man was in her house.
She could not come to work before she got him out of there.
She had a fender bender. There were no witnesses,
so she had to wait for the police.
Someone broke down the front door of her house in the middle of the night
And took all her kid’s Christmas presents for the sixth year in a row.
Her grandmother ran away from the old folk’s home on Tuesday.
She has been found, but Agnes has to take off early today
to find her a new place.
Suggestions are made but Agnes has tried everything. Nothing works for her.
Her life is perpetually upside down, topsy-turvy, in the toilet.
She has a small cut, and she wonders if it is cancer.
It is almost like she hopes it is.
She never has enough money for lunch.
Can she please have your extra can of soup?
She is so grateful for any help she can get.
When we first met her, we were more than willing to loan her
a candy bar, can of soup, and
Sometimes money. Nothing ever gets back though,
so now it is the newbies who are rallying
To have a little party for her.
They think we savvy survivors are horrible for not wanting to cough up a mere dollar apiece for her grandmother's funeral, not realizing we have already coughed up a dollar for nineteen of Agnes' grandmothers' funerals.
Agnes, the Bad Luck Queen, interesting every time she is seen.