Long Unlucky Poems
Long Unlucky Poems. Below are the most popular long Unlucky by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unlucky poems by poem length and keyword.
Halloween is a scream dressed in orange and black
A night of sneaky creeps that rattle and clack
Vampires conspire to send midnight bat attacks
Witches stirring cauldrons of potent purple snacks
Moonlit foggy streets filling with ghoulish packs
Of superheroes, princesses and lumberjacks
Cowboys with space toys and candy laden sacks
Evil clowns with smiles painted on out-of-whack
Hobos and gypsies from the wrong sides of the tracks
Mad hatters and kooky-eyed conspiracy quacks
Unlucky thirteens losing their crackerjacks
Curses from broken mirrors and stepped-on sidewalk cracks
Better give up the goodies if you don't want payback!
10/25/21
Some friends willfully forget an unlucky heart
from whose trine flowed the richest waters
to soothe their qualms
as desert shady palms.
It gave them all it had, leaving nothing for itself;
hasn't forgetfulness replaced the warmth of that light?
Someone should remind them by writing on a wall:
that God never forgets a goodhearted soul
for the generous deeds it has done:
giving everything and receiving none!
" Shame " should be written on each face...
proclaiming to be righteous and favored by grace!
He lives in a shack built on wood poles shaken by cyclones,
and he survives on water and crackers,
a candle has replaced a light-bulb with thirty watts...
even tap water can't satiate his empty guts;
a slice of bread is a rare delicacy,
not mentioning cheap, tasteless coffee.
God never forgets a goodhearted soul,
the one that helped others face life with grit
and feeding their mouths by uplifting their spirit;
where are they now: distant as a cloud, looking down as a seagull?
Why can't they attend to his needs with generosity and wit?
No, he is not one of them anymore...only a disgraced destitute!
Rags clothe his body, but joy dwells in his faithful soul,
prayers keep him alive...he rejoices greeting the dazzling sunrise;
into the pristine river he bathes daily and sings with truthful and joyful eyes:
he will have tasted Paradise even before his death!
The poor man, so rich in faith, will sing until you runs out of breath;
the forgotten man, so weak, will reach Heaven having completed his earthly role!
The first two limericks I posted the other day but Sara Kendrick requested that I write a sequel so added four more, I've included the two from the other day should you wish to read it in its entirety.
Bank robber Jim was one unlucky bloke
Went to draw his gun but the holster broke
It dropped on the bank floor
And went off with a roar
The shock was too much and he had a stroke...
Though he was unconscious he hadn't died
Woke in a coffin for his final ride
In a desparate bid
Banged on the coffin lid
But all he could hear was laughing outside...
Written on 17th June 2021
Then someone shouted can you hear banging
It was quite faint because folks were singing
The sheriff prised off the lid
And he was so glad he did
Because he thought we'll have us a hanging...
Jim didn't know whether to laugh or cry
Resigned himself to the fact that he'd die
Saw sheriff holding a rope
Realised there was no hope
And for unlucky Jim the end was nigh...
He was taken to the gallows in town
Handcuffed and wearing nothing but a frown
Jim was then starting to choke
But with the drop the rope broke
The crowd screamed as poor Jim came tumbling down..
Unlucky Jim jumped up quick as a flash
As he passed the bank ran in and grabbed cash
He stole the first horse he saw
Then let out a loud yee haw
And for sweet freedom he made a quick dash...
Written 19th June 2021
Ah, the story of ice and men...
and ice's cousin snow -
sit with me and soon you'll know -
a complex relationship. It takes
an unlucky turn when ice breaks,
or with a snowball's throw.
Though penguins are all in,
That's not always the way with men,
A person's heart that's cold as ice,
most folks won't consider nice,
but, come to think of it, yet, again,
who would not gladly partake,
if we assume the ice doesn't break,
inducing bodily harm,
and if her heart is warm,
in a heavenly skate...
with one's princess on a frozen lake.
Consider Frosty. Man and snow were one,
until he was killed by the sun -
while the ice and snow Mother Earth amasses,
are killed, not by sun, but with green-house gasses,
and when it's gone, men on thin ice are quite done.
I want to live in a spaceship house he said.
His wife thought he was being silly, but he meant it.
He planned it for a decade or more.
She pooh poohed his idea.
Then he met a young enthusiastic spring chicken.
She encouraged him to build his dream.
He spent the next decade in the backyard.
Building his dream.
Always speaking of the spring chicken
And how much her encouragement meant to him.
Infuriating his jealous wife who did not realize
She was feeling ill will toward an unlucky soul.
The spring chicken was one of his students
Who died of lung cancer at the age of twenty-three.
Which is why she encouraged everyone to pursue and live their dream.
You moan about how we say life isn't fair
But it shouldn't have to be fair for equality to exist
Life being fair isn't being born into luxury
Its being rich in safety
An automatic right we all should have
Being rich doesn't always equal wealth
Rich is safety and the lack of doubt
Invalidation is a hobby for you
Something that brings you joy
Until its turned around on you
Complaining how we bring up injustices
How we don't live in a fair society
But then it's okay for you, right?
When you complain how we 'steal' your jobs
Despite us being more than qualified
Ironic how you complain instead of working
But then again complaining is the only job you know
Maybe if you didn't wallow in jealousy you wouldn't moan
But then again as history serves
The only thing you know us how to shout at black people until the crops grow
Or maybe you don't want your mask to show
It's not about jobs, it's about how you try to conceal the feeling of insecurity
That seizes to let go
From the chokehold of being inferior
If you really thought you were superior
Being a try hard is not the way to go
It seems that you are all talk
But needs help to walk
Asking for help is not in your vocabulary
Then again the only thing you know how to do is shout
Or when your voice runs out
You decide being a bully is what it's all about
Gaslighting is your shield
Used only to protect how you feel
Validating your own violence
Whilst being appeased by our silence
Pathetic, that the only way you feel whole
Is by abusing power and control
And yet it's still not enough
Otherwise you wouldn't act so tough
Reality is not made by rainbows and sunshine
It's made by cold hard truths
And these are directed to you
The world doesn't revolve around you
The truth is you are the ones spinning it
It's all about manipulation
And blurring parts of the picture
Unlucky for you we can see through the opaque lies of superficiality
I brought it for one thousand pounds in 1982
Second hand you understand not new.
No it wasn't an Austin or ford,
humble three wheeler,
plastic pig to me and you.
I was the proudest person on the road,
four months later, i was many off the road.
Because it was so light the wind caught it like a kite.
It skidded on its side rolled on its roof,
with witness gaping for living proof
After the damage was assessed ,Ifelt like wringing the mechanics
neck.
One hundred fifty pounds scrap,
five hundred pounds repair,
I left in deep despair.
Eventually Ihad it repaired drove one year accident free.
Four months later I passed my test,
so I did what I thought was best.
I sold it for five hundred and borrowed the rest.
Though fate was to strike again,
this time a fork lift was to blame.
Again the damage was five hundred,
so the new owner did the same.
Except bringing her back from repair she bolted,
like a startled mare.
A blow out was the course, a ditch the only course.
So if you see lal865p
look and stare and thank your lucky stars,
she wasn't yours.
Why am I
unlucky in love?
I try my best
to be myself.
No one to join me
for some fun.
I'm easy going.
come on hon'.
All joking aside,
I'm all alone.
All take for granted
what I don't own.
Someone to hold me
close at night.
Someone to know
when things aren't right.
Someone to help me
with the bills.
Someone to look up to.
Someone to thrill.
Someone who gets
my weird jokes.
Someone to protect.
Someone to provoke
all my feelings
from deep inside.
All my desires.
All I hide.
I've missed out.
Are you there?
One who gets me.
One who cares.
Before I give up
please,
step forward...
If you dare!
Separating the wheat from chaff magic prisoner
From the dust of darkness you are born from ash remains
having walked a crooked pathway inside regrets
buried under sparkling silver lining clouds lights up
Lightening strikes hitting earthy notes trembling voices
falling thunder echoes from dying embers of pain
a star spangled vision igniting flames, peaces torch
I can feel it in your eyes as oceans mist over
Salted inside a triangle of lie holds apex
from the hidden truth centre eye exposed one corner
Three you are where hidden facts remain tortured hotly
our souls know where the fifty shades of grey shape shadows
nothing comes under smoke is ever white underneath
From Fifteen to Fifteen,
All the love and memories and framed moments in between,
befitting we fell on artificial lovers holiday, you with brow the jaw
the hair, me with the lust the love the desire,
a willing participant
I purview no writing on the wall
the depths of pain to come that future is so far— I cannot see it,
the willingness to be vulnerable in your love,,, surmising I won’t be
around long enough for its piteous end…Ah but I am the tortuous the
pit,
the glare of eternity is now before me
The end-- the end of us all
this rock, this ball spinning with mad energy in the universe, and the
tiny dramas played out laughable ha ha ha! Laughable….
In the agony the depths of despair you know you’re alive… the spirit
awakens it wishes to flee the tomb of flesh,
all the symbolism in numbers 13 unlucky, eight you are, 15 your gone…
a cold and rainy November condensation-- fogging along with my breath
The interior of my car—obscures my teary vision of you driving away….
its the 15th of November, it is raining—so am I
I’m still here…