morning rising from the height of night,
steadfast,
and night, from the body of day,
rising in pride
with a bluish dagger.
And look at us—
made luckless in our own unrest
by the fault of those others.
And look at us—
made luckless
by the fault of those others,
as lashes settle
on our bloodied bodies.
And look at us—
each of us, from every direction,
in a futile struggle
within our private isolation,
our grim faces cracking.
The luckless leper’s lousily lobbing
Lame libel at Lords and Ladies along
His lonesome lane, a lizard in limbo
Loafing on his lowly laurels, laughing.
We want to watch dancing flowers
Locks up my mind for many hours
Watch their rhythm, which way they sway
Sets my mental path every day
Catch those trips that spin round the sun
Lots more twirls before they're done
For luckless those whose music stops
Flowers reel on like spinning tops
Little fair in this scheme of things
In random swirls of whirling rings
Applause in darkness lets light show
These dancers make enjoyment glow
Look through the petals, see the shade
Feel the difference they have made
Were it only that we could see
How beautiful all lives can be
couplet 16 lines 103 words
Colored Pencil & Ink illustration by G.Gaul
The tale of Sad Sack Sammy,
So the story goes.
A walking, talking, whiner,
Suffering his woes.
He never ever smiled,
Had nothing good to say.
He whimpered like a sissy,
All the livelong day.
His mood would always swing,
At home or when at school.
Sometimes melancholy,
Then complaining like a fool.
A lousy, luckless, loner,
Grew up without a friend.
No one could stand his presence,
'Cause he ranted till the end.
His fate would change at Fifty,
This local resident.
He chose a different path,
And ran for President.
Now everyone that knew him,
Was caught up on the blind side.
When all the votes were counted,
He won it by a landslide.
Harry was lowborn.
He felt ashamed and subnormal.
Hapless, luckless, useless his parents told him.
His self-talk was negative. Loser, fool, creep.
Sally fell in love with Harry.
She saw his goodness, his empathy, his compassion.
She did her best to build him up.
But he could not change his opinion of himself.
She was good.
He was bad.
It would not be fair to her, so he broke it off.
Sally could not build him up as fast
as he could tear himself down
He lived a lonely, sad, solitary life.
Living down to the expectations of his parents.
They always said he was no good.
In the Nineties Clyde’s heart sank:
The slowest to rise in rank!
You’d think him some faulty shank,
The air about his room dank
But he was filling his tank
For being no stranger to prank
That made less rich a bank…
Still, not the gods would Clyde thank.
In life he’s at the bottom
And to others An Atom:
Some witch beating the tom-tom
That for him raised a phantom…
The Thankless for being luckless,
For diversions his wireless;
Clyde could slap a motherless:
Really a ship rudderless
In this embrace of fog
and night,
dappled beauty softly shines.
The heavens dance and
brightly light,
the darkness that descends
divine.
As fog creeps over the moon
and stars,
a fragrant breath of mystery.
The night is veiled
and yet we are filled
with a sense of nearby history.
A breathing canvass of chance
and dreams,
overlapping shadows of the past.
A union of opposites it seems
Our spirit,
a moment that will last.
A Shivered leaves surrender to
the Air Shimmering, sparkling
and alive.
This beclouded fog,
the depths of which we
dare not stare
Breathes life into our
luckless drive.
"Who had this booby trap set?"
Asked the hit man quite upset
But flashing a borrowed smile
He could take to some one mile.
Later, what seemed a child's grin,
Once very rich, now as thin...
It's clear Charles would some cheek slap
Or a head hit or a cap:
Charles' little luck with good clue
Could him to a lone spot glue,
Each movement a quest for proof,
Still luckless just hit the roof!
Certain now he'll Hill's cheeks slap,
Now with zest closing their gap:
What long frustration could do:
Up men would begin to screw.
I know I should apologise but I ponder at my fault
I truly thought that every cat had abilities to vault
Most other times he ran away when I backed out of the drive
I mean it's only natural a cat's instinct to survive
I'll admit I've damaged other things like skateboards bikes and toys
But this time it was different you could tell so by the noise
Now the kids won't talk my wife won't talk I'm really in the pooh
Especially when I made that joke the one about cat stew
I said I'll buy another cat same type and age and fur
But unforgiving voices choired "He had a special purr"
What about a robot cat immune to hurt and pain
No support from either camp only looks iced with disdain
Eight times that cat survived a life with luck more apt than mine
I hap to be the luckless one who snuffed out number nine
Well old Tom I'm really sad and regret I did you wrong
So to prove my worth when I'm heaven bound I'll bring a mouse along
3/4/2023 Free Submission Sponsor: Sotto Poet
I learn lots of pleasant songs at my school,
Songs about blind mice, or stars like jewels,
And animals making sounds, here and there.
On Macdonald Farm, sounds are everywhere!
Sometimes, we sing of luckless Jack and Jill.
Jack had a bad fall, strolling up Bloom Hill.
Then there's a magic dragon, known as 'Puff',
And ring a ring of roses, plunge down soft.
The song of sixpence, always great to sing,
With the tunes about small, ugly duckling,
And dancing round the maypole, first of May.
Then there's a muffin man, not far away.
Diddle, diddle, dumpling, we sing of John,
And the blue little boy, sleeping at dawn.
I love my golden school days, full of tunes,
Such fun, like chasing colorful balloons!
Written on 3/26/2023
vertiginous in a virulent cityscape
gagging on gritty gray gloom
luckless in a loveless race
at the bottom of a solipsistic sinkhole
(\\\\?!?!----!?!?\\\\)
exhausted by lucent losses
lying low & flying blindly behind
sliding back into Whateverland
where dust confronts the futile frontier
For more than forty years my pistol
And - trust - me - in the dark like a pistol,
Sadly competing with my loved Christ,
Mostly after quaffed Stout cruelly iced!
Years back wore the look of Machine gun,
When it stopped ripe deaths from crazy fun:
The times I’d dared wrestle with Rothmans
Also with Menthols raunchy romance;
Once in my bag wouldn’t feel luckless
As it kept licensing The Reckless
The Asthmatic: An Idol Worshipper
My Dream Business: Inhaler’s Shipper.
Till date smuggles it into a church
Christ’s priests won’t see it, unless they search.
If my mum were alive, she’d slap me;
Would it – I know - reserve like Hot Tea
They had for him come in a cab:
Mister Sabinus for short, Sab,
A guy with the gift of the gab
To receive wounds or the wounds grab...
If only he'd leave fast - A Crab!
He'd prevent what handkerchiefs dab,
His movements had often been drab,
For which reasons they could him nab
And over hand him to Wahab...
Luckless chap for Torturer's Lab,
For boxer's blows and waiting swab;
They shall this celebrate with tab.
No god greater than their Wahab...
More and more sweat on Sab's poor neck,
On a spot imaging the wreck:
"Scream after ascending a deck:
I did not a woman's cheek peck;
Men need to know who's being tortured
Plus the guys who had it nurtured".
Sitting on a snug chair, I was staring out a window
How a little bird on the surface was trying to fly
Little kid, was finding difficult to do a task
Which others of the same age did with ease
Tried his best, but was not achieving the result
Not because he was idle but because of luckless
Stepped back, ran forward with greater force
Lasted above earth for a millisecond and again fell down
Cried hard, saw his friend flew away doing the same
He another time stepped away and repeated his actions
But, for the same method, is always the same outcome
Comparing little birds with small kids
How fortunate are the ones who get success
How dreadful is the situation for the one's who fail
By doing the same as others, working hard all day
But in the end, left all alone dejected
He's considered indolent and loafing by the world
But if anyone had seen the process, knows the depressed one
He, might not achieve the height, his partner did
But surely one day, this hapless bird will also FLY
I know of a hindrance
To Needful Remembrance:
To the mind a weapon,
Recalls: Luckless Coupons…
To stop getting hazier
We all know Amnesia
That thoughts makes lazier
And The Thinker lousier!
Ten times, “What did you say?”
And you’d repeat, “No Pay”
“Please, what’s your name, again?
And replies grant No Gain!
“All Roads to Hospital”
But we’re coming back with Little;
Amnesia comes to stay
And you’d better make a way?
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