Long Losing streak Poems
Long Losing streak Poems. Below are the most popular long Losing streak by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Losing streak poems by poem length and keyword.
With open arms, I enter this space
A chance to explore, to discover my place
To wander down a path of words and rhyme
To unlock my soul and let my thoughts climb
The sky, they say, is the limit we seek
But often it feels we're at a losing streak
Our goals so high, our failures so near
We stumble and fall, overcome with fear
But in this space, I feel a different air
A spirit of hope, a sense of dare
To rise above, to reach for the sky
To believe in ourselves, to give it a try
I take my seat, and turn up my heat
Ready to dive into this poetic street
With pen in hand, I let my words flow
A journey of discovery, a chance to grow
And as I write, I find something sweet
A sense of purpose, a reason to beat
The struggles that come, the doubts that arise
To reach for the sky, to aim for the prize
So here I am, on this first visit
Ready to embrace, to never quit
For in this space, I have found
A way to break free, to become unbound
And as I leave this poetry street
I carry with me a new, uplifting beat
A spirit that soars, a heart full of fire
Ready to face the world, to climb ever higher
For though the sky may seem far away
With courage and faith, we can seize the day
And so I leave, with a renewed spirit
Ready to take on whatever comes, and never fear it.
After a solid decade of what can only be described as the worst of luck.
I've grown accustomed to living a life of pain and misery.
Fearful of this new uncertainty, again left helpless and unaware
Although uncomfortable and confused, I continued onward with my life.
The diagnosis is only the first painful and stunning blow.
Amazed at the unbelievable power of something microscopic in nature.
Specialists in the field call it a virus, I call it being condemned.
Now likely sentenced to a treacherous and pre-mature death.
The full extent of this revelation leaves me struggling to understand.
In one invasive procedure, they pluck away a piece of my liver.
While countless needles drain my tainted crimson blood.
Both attempts at deciphering the enormity of my affliction.
After the final drop of my blood is finally collected, The doctors hold an answer.
They give me their assurance of a definitive and timely explanation.
The phone rings, the doctor is ready to reveal his final prognosis.
It seems treatment is possible, and success may be achievable.
Astonished, I wonder if I have dreamed the entire conversation.
But, unbelievably his spoken words are determined to be truth.
Many human beings, not so lucky, to receive this rare gift of life.
The feeling is strange, following so many years of horrific nature.
Reluctant to savor the moment, fearing that it may suddenly disappear.
Death has taken me three times prior, at birth, and twice before thirty.
All three instance came without prior warning, unannounced occurrences.
Left this fourth time, to ponder death's arrival, this time, not so lucky.
I dreadfully contemplate what, if anything, exists after crossing over.
A fear that has plagued mankind since Eve took that first fateful bite.
The reaper achieved his goal, but I was unwilling to cross Phlegethon.
inexplicably, each time my soul has been revived, prior to complete loss.
Mind and body replenished with life, but some part of me remained deceased.
Returning some what less than, what was my previous state of being.
Losing only it seems, what I held onto so dearly in my life.
Small pieces of hope, faith, and joy. Now left absent from my soul.
Only time will tell if this virus, will undue death's losing streak.
Or, if the Doctors confidence will be proven true, allowing me to survive.
Yet, Again.
I don’t want to talk about disappointment,
you don’t have any pigskin in the game.
Save the conversations for the basement,
what I am liable to say I’m not to blame.
Everything these men led me through,
trash talk isn’t doing me any favors.
I know it will never make sense to you,
so please do not wear my team’s colors.
The light that flickered will glow again,
laughter is best shining through tears.
A win will restore a dormant toothy grin,
snap that losing streak and it reappears.
Head down keep silent and motivated,
remember that we are all in this together
I’m a true fan if you are loved or hated,
this storm’s just another one to weather.
Step back if you cannot stay loyal,
I promise you we aren’t like the others.
Bandwagon jumpers make my blood boil,
so please do not wear my team’s colors.
Tell me, my friend, when can I send
My spirit gently into that good night?
How many times do I have to die
Before I get it right?
Every car crash, train wreck,
Overdose, misstep,
Splintered bone, rug burn,
Danger zone, poisoned cup,
Open sore, bitter root,
Slammed door, rotten fruit,
Tool shed, chicken shack,
Demon seed, heart attack,
Foul deed, flash flood,
Drowning pool, splattered mud,
Ridicule, taut noose,
Hanging tree, hot seat,
Safety latch, knotted sheet,
Lover’s leap, cruel twist,
Sudden shift, slashed wrist,
Whiskey breath, itchy wool,
Charges due, paid in full,
Circus freak, Judas kiss,
Hide and seek, losing streak,
Broken tooth, swollen lip,
Busted jaw, sinking ship,
Hard luck, hockey puck,
Sucker punch, mother f*ck,
Hot iron, nasty cold,
Phantom limb, flat spin,
Steel glove, rusty nail,
Faded love, hammer claw,
Twenty gauge, monkey paw,
Tombstone, gaping maw,
Friendly fire, lost and found,
Piano wire, last rites,
Foul deed, prairie dust,
Jimson weed, stock tip,
Bad trip, razor blade,
Muscle rip, chain saw,
Pole axe, pin prick,
Candle wax, crack pipe,
Dope ball, monster high,
Bad call, de-tox,
Padlocks, sweat box,
Ticking clocks, hair lip,
Pratfall, bull whip,
Brass balls, matching set,
Sacred cow, tangled net,
Marriage vow, and every other
Barren point of blackness
That litters the
Eternal Book of Life
Are only punctuations
In its bloody text,
While waiting,
Waiting,
Waiting
For the death
That’s written next.
I found myself in darkened days
The forecast then was looking bleak
No matter how I tried it seemed
that I was on a losing streak
Well, losing may not be the word
but life had simply gotten dull
No light could ever penetrate
the gray clouds whirling in my skull
On one especially gloomy night
it was my turn to volunteer
serving meals inside a shelter
twice a month throughout the year
Then afterwards, while cleaning up
and nearly ready to go home
behind me spoke a tiny voice
the inspiration for this poem
This young black child standing there
of six years old, maybe seven
said to me "Thank you for coming"
which was spoken straight from heaven
He gave me such a loving smile
and then returned from whence he came
Choked up, I said "You're very welcome"
never asking for his name
While thinking of this little boy
as I drove home I shed some tears
as much for him as for myself
and all my empty wasted years
This precious one without a home
with no possessions to his name
had managed such a cheerfulness
which brought to me a sense of shame
This child opened up my eyes
and gave to me a needed dose
of cold perspective in the face
so now I hold my blessings close
All of which were right around me
all along, but I was blind
The things I thought that I had lost
that little boy had helped me find
Was that child heaven sent?
Perhaps an angel in disguise?
Whichever way I think of him
it brings a teardrop to my eyes
I pray for him from time to time
and never shall forget him, no
And when I'm very old and gray
my mind will find him smiling so
If I could speak to him once more
there's just one thing I'd like to say
"Thank YOU for coming, little friend,
you saved my life one darkened day"
Mike Wise
11-9-19
While the universe is ever-expanding
life on earth becomes even more demanding
despite a few one or two
world-shattering improvements
man is still wallowing
in the proverbial primordial
and if this road he insists on following
our future looks severely bleak
as where once we were happily winning
we're now all on a losing streak
yet history has taught him nothing
that and his memory is short
no thanks to his stupidity
between rocks on a hard place we are caught
but what about our children
those innocents who go unsung
there's not a lot for them to look forward to
that bell can't be unrung
as the genie is out of the bottle
what with plastic and fossil fuels
here's one last thought
I'm glad I won't be around to witness
the final endgame result
of what we silly fools hath wrought
Was I maudlin over our breakup? For a minute.
If I think of you now, it’s like a slideshow of unflattering images.
At the time, my breakup buddies reminded me you were a bad
choice - like a brand of deodorant that gave me a rash or fashionable shoes that chafed, even after they were stretched.
“Ruca,” my girlfriends would say, “you’re shootin-terrible, they’re a million pork-swords in the sea.”
Finally, I pulled the trigger - double-tapped us.
At first, reminders of you, those siren whispers of nostalgia, were everywhere - like the moon - which, I just had to live with.
You passed from memory though, that’s how memory works. Events fade, like last week’s chemistry test, or yesterday’s lunch.
Now, if someone asks me, “Hey, remember, what’s his name, your big love from high school?”
I say “Nope.”
I chose to laugh, dance - and shoot birds at the moon.
.
.
Slang:
breakup buddies = friends who help you get over a breakup
ruca = girlfriend
shootin terrible = on a losing streak, not doing well, making bad choices
pork-swords = come on, think about it - it’s funny.
TV sensation
Prime time news;
Wake up call
~~~~~~~~~
Elegant poise on TV
Charming sweet voice;
Brilliant anchor delivery
~~~~~~~~~
Homegrown talent
Sparkle and shine;
New media sensation
~~~~~~~~~
Stock market trends
Upswing and downswing;
Challenging times
~~~~~~~~~
Politics of freedom
Confrontational constituents;
Angry defiance
~~~~~~~~~
Observe the times
Conflicts permutates;
Right and left and wrong
~~~~~~~~~
Losing streak
Gambling losses;
Cut loss and run
~~~~~~~~~
Affairs of the heart
Uneasy showdown;
Bruised egos clash
~~~~~~~~~
Pun of old wit
Can still sting;
Mad hornets stir
~~~~~~~~~
Kill joy this talk
Something for nothing;
Deceit attends conceit
~~~~~~~~~
Gain or loss
Not much has changed;
Greedy is greedy
~~~~~~~~~
Here we go again
Flirt from old pain;
Embrace new pain
~~~~~~~~~
Sweet baby asleep
Mother's fond embrace;
Peace in the valley
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
20 October 2014
Singapore
No man is an island they say
Still, amidst this crowd and noise I feel lonely
I badly want someone to talk to
But words don’t come easy
Millions of things are running in my head
But my lips find it hard to utter
As I tossed and turned in my bed
Also wondering what really matters
I try to find the courage to fight
Trying to tell myself “It’s gonna be all right”
Hoping in time everything will be okay
But in the end, loneliness still finds me
In this eerie and cold prison
Darkness is my constant companion
And that loud voice that becomes my friend
It keeps telling me “I’m beyond broken which nobody can ever mend”
It’s a daily reminder of a failure that I am
That I have no choice, not even a chance
And redemption is something I cannot hold with my hand
And I should just keep doing this silly dance
I want to get out but I feel weak
I’m getting used to this losing streak
Should I give up and stop struggling?
Should I continue to put on a mask that’s laughing?
My head feels light as my chest feels heavy
No voice came out as I cry for help. “Please... somebody!”
I feel so helpless as this darkness envelops me
And let the monster in my head consumes me slowly
From this ongoing battle I want to be free
From this pain, this chaos, and this misery
And so I kneel down, before you I humbly pray
"My GOD, I have forgotten you. I was proud, forgive me.”
_______________END_____________
Message from the author:
Whatever you're going through right now. Know that you are not alone. u
Surrender everything to Him and He will help you win your battle.
Trust that, this too shall pass and you will come out victoriously in the end.
God bless you :-) <3 <3 <3
Mine was a somewhat humble Holy Grail.
For forty years, I hoped to see a plane
fly right across the moon. I hoped in vain.
Though once I got to see a vapour trail
bisect the orb, I couldn’t quite prevail.
Like Joey Starrett, running after Shane,
It seemed to me the gods might preordain
a lifelong disappointment. Would they fail
to humour me? It all looked pretty bleak.
One hoary April morning, just last week,
on glancing up, I broke my losing streak!
Flamed by a sun which, here, had not yet risen,
a tiny aircraft, shining with mystique,
flew through the moon, and smashed my earthbound prison.