Long Luckless Poems
Long Luckless Poems. Below are the most popular long Luckless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Luckless poems by poem length and keyword.
'Killing" time while homebound until...,
a cure gets distilled and/ or found
for pandemic, thus... I expound.
(Yupper - courtesy coronavirus CORVID-19),
how ja guess my good smear it in friend?! -
within Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania
toyed with thought to withhold or send
hmm... perhaps superstitious end
synonym with ominous trend,
methinks hoop fully auspicious,
and synonym with propitious will not abend
mine luckless mien kampf,
cuz the latter two similar lend
heft well woolworth
their weight in gold - words,
would moost notably, likely,
and heavily portend
toward disastrous, disadvantageous, disharmonious...
to Matthew Scott Harris,
whose time on Earth would
uninhibitedly, uneventfully, and unabashedly end
(ous ending intimating "possessing, full of...")
in this case foreboding...,
yours truly rendered permanently
incapacitated to offend
sense and sensibilities
honorable sacred tenets to poetics
tantamount to committing sacrilegious sin
if hypothetically practiced orthodox church goer,
and believer in reincarnation legend.
No matter getting cremated
(ha - of course after I die -)
good one, though... ha) crafting epitaph,
impossible mission to claim alibi,
while on leave from life,
and into cerulean heavenly sky
of course this guy would never lie
even in jest..., though all joking aside,
now tis golden opportunity well nigh
to compose obituary (mine of course),
one garden variety
(veggie burger eater) generic guy
who... doth not fear death, nor shy
about bidding permanent goodbye
to sordid vices that
DO NOT (no way) apply
to yours truly, he coon sitters himself...
well rather ho hum, (especially as singer -
for Curmudgeon Dummkopf Ensemble
(also known as the all star Schlemiel band),
no idea, I cannot explain why.
Though the necks
sighting of Ichabod Crane
humungous horror
helplessly harassing,
hellish hyena howling,
hideously hounding,
headless Halloween
hair raising happening,
regarding haunting
horseman spectre,
not due to arrive
(in gremlin, golem, and
goblin crawling theaters
everywhere in outer limits
of twilight zone),
come October thirty first
two thousand, and nineteen
divination trap
pings can never
be implemented overly
soon - to satiate subhuman
scary sightings,
sans mine ineluctable
supernatural drive
biz ease, this (gopher broke,
phantasmagoric over seer
grown wunderkind,
passionately rousing spooks,
where this droning
necromancer named
Matthew Scott Harris),
asper undertaking
luckless ghostly endeavors
also oft times finds
meat hoo experiencing
aborted, cancelled and retried
aim mush carriage
(i.e. thwarted, ejected,
and clobbered miscarriage)
off base when out fielding
paranormal activities,
qua catcher catch can
pseudo boxing
exaggerated shadows
striking mine attenuated,
elongated, and invoked
Hades monstrous silhouettes,
viz jugular vein bleeding
(heart liberal)
burnt umber umbra
pitching one dimensional
brokered, bricked,
and bracketed
wall size grotesqueries
detailing bloodless battles
silently creaking within republic
of my imagination.
MacJock looked uptight
When we said "That's not right,
We're not paying one pence you see"
Den Finn swung and missed
With his powerful fist
And it landed on the jaw of McGee
MacJock grabbed a bottle
Intending to throttle
The closest poor sod in his way
And this caused a ruckus
McGee was so luckless
It certainly wasn't his day
But when Macjock hit McGee
He went flying you see
And busted MacJock's new table
Then McGee tossed a chair
Clear through the air
Hoping MacJock to disable
The others ensued
In this Hullaballoo
Until, all I could see was the brawl
There were glasses and mugs
Bottles and jugs
Smashing against every wall
The place was a mess
I sure can attest
When the fightin' came to its end
Not an eye was still blinking
So I started thinking
Dat its tyme to go 'ome un mend
Just one more part will end it
ALONE!, said I, things of individualism;
The sheer solo existence, separations
Back into my memories soloing;
What could there be more purely fascinating?
I crave I the straight, smelly solitaire,
That moment my soul grew as a lone star;
Awesome yet so rare…
The crowded populace was quite far;
My emotional state suffered scars;
Help me, someone…all
The silent solitude soloing;
Through which came marooning, marooning, marooning;
Stuck in my soul, mind and spirit;
No other one would come near me they fear it…
Ah, distinctly I was separating
I crave the luckless, lonely alone
Lonesomeness, I didn’t want to go home;
Help me, help me someone;
The sheer solo existence, separation;
Back into my memories soloing;
What could there be more purely fascinating?
Shanty… I just live my life separate from the populace
...I shall just be left
ALONE
12/15/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
It is time to get fresh America,
to be plucked wriggling out of the shining sea,
a fresh baked humanity, moon-beam buckled,
passing yet more pay-day-loans
into the purses of the pawn-shopping poor,
and giving no witness nor evidence
of city shame, and house crud.
America, you can do this.
I am a being from across the world
I am from the ***-end of times,
my transformation, a promise of our mutual destiny,
rampant & manifest,
unbridled from all luckless land grabs.
It’s not too late, wipe your ass America,
wipe your dirty face.
I am ready, ready to soar out of a hundred landfills,
a prismatic dodo embossed upon a tarnished coin
my downy head newly scrubbed of old-time blood.
He never believed in love at first sight!
Spurious hogwash, or so he thought.
Yet he felt a magnetic fascination,
Seeing her alone, sipping a cool exotic drink,
Dressed impeccably in local folklore attire.
He was deeply attracted for she was
The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
He felt stirred by emotions supernal,
Like a bee sucking nectar from every glamorous bloom.
Nature unparalleled had a way to provoke him.
Drinking at the bar, what was supposed to be
One for the road, his next air flight.
It was not to be. He cancelled his trip home.
Back at the bar she was not to be seen.
Ah luckless love, what devious tricks it plays
On most poor mortals! Had she not smiled at him?
Pierced his heart, provoked intoxication of love?
In his exalted admiration of her, he vowed:
He would never leave until she's found.
Desperation drives the bins
Holes in the soul bleed in the sins
Inherited sorrows weigh heavy on bones
Expectation drives love to find new holes
No matter what life deals in its path
Lonely eyes stare at the dark dreading and expecting its wrath
Tuned into the devil your heart maybe
Life deals it luckless, cold, cold hand with one and only one guarantee. Follow that path and you’ll never be free.
Stare at the dark expecting to see the light. Hear the silent screams of your life fade into the night.
You may jump of Everest and expect to fly
Then you hit the ground proving all their promises, hopes and truths were lies.
WISH UPON A STAR
eyes drawn upward —
like a candle on a cake
first birthday or too old
the lottery is billions upon billions
tickets bought
blowing dandelion seeds for surety
tremor of seedlings like flesh
burning your palm
wanting your death
one star stands out amidst the myriads
richer than all kings
waiting for the poor in spirit
to rejoice with open arms
while money strangles the sea
crushed and fluid plastic —
even the wisest heart pinched
the saint patiently waits
for the sweetest answer
placed in folded hands
and worn out knees
a Father smiles and grants
eternity and all the treasury
the inheritance overflows
a luckless star fizzles
the blessed one glows
10/20/2018
A lovely lady beguiles a luckless lad
Of unwitting others she might have had
The fairest face may be foul of heart
Deft deceit is how now it shall start
Like fated moths drawn to the light
Novices can't tell wrong from right
This lady then connives confusing witch's what
Spins spells that do convince what is not
She conjures him to shirk sacred duty
So sure he's blinded by her beauty
She coyly coddles this beamish boy
His twisted thinking in frabjous joy
He peers deeply down into her soul
Seeing darkness finding blackest coal
It hearkens back to Eden's first sin
Stirs silent shadows sunk long within
Beware that all's not as it seems
Beauty's illusion can change what it means
Purpose or pulchritude which will impress
When next we witness a damsel's distress
(Taking headlines from October 1964,
the poem revisits our shared experience ...)
Monday 5: Fifty-Four East Germans Tunnel to Freedom
Back then, it was not in doubt,
(Richard Burton Tony Quinn):
the Wall was there to keep us out?
No – built, in fact, to keep them in.
Thursday 8: Beatles Release “She’s a Woman”
My love don’t give me presents.
East is east and west is west –
Ringo passed his driving test –
Blofeld looks like Donald Pleasence.
Monday 12: The Moog Synthesizer Makes Its Debut
It’s fantastic! It’s so new!
Music made in outer space!
Now we’ll win the missile race!
How we love you, Doctor … Who?
Wednesday 14: Martin Luther King Awarded Nobel Peace Prize
Hypatia, Gandhi, Jesus Christ
and Socrates … he was that good:
and just like them, he knew he would
so very soon be sacrificed.
Wednesday 14: Khrushchev Deposed
Now, here’s a man who really tried.
It’s thanks to him, that Cuba fright
didn’t end in Nuclear Night.
Reward? His thugs brush him aside.
Wednesday 21: My Fair Lady Film Premiere
Can a statue have a heart?
Can what’s vulgar morph to art?
Entertainment as idea?
Tin Pan Alley’s Galatea.
Monday 26: Eric Edgar Cooke Executed, Western Australia
Cleft palate, hare lip.
Bullied here, bullied there.
Mumbling moron, bloody crip.
Then they hang him. Life ain’t fair.
Thursday 29: Audacious Diamond Robbery in New York
Banner headlines in the papers.
Daring crimes, coolest capers.
They’re classy crooks, they’ll fence their loot
in Buenos Aires, or Beirut.
(In the real world, how'd it go?
Look at 31 below.)
Saturday 31: Lyndon Johnson Proclaims the Great Society
Nothing novel, or unique:
his vision was for Uncle Sam
to help the luckless, tend the weak.
One word destroyed him. Vietnam.
Saturday 31: New York Diamond Robbers Caught
Tiffany studs? More Studs L. Terkel.
One rock alone, a hundred grams,
Murph the Surf’s men on the lam:
they didn’t make Columbus Circle.
Saturday 31: Goose Kills Astronaut
Theo Freeman was his name,
test-pilot/astronaut his game.
Ejector seats are not much use
against a full-grown Galveston goose.