To my complacent Ms. Crane
I am at odds my love, your comely visage has my heart rend. I struggle somewhere betwixt carnality and a fervent want of your attention. Oh! Ms. Crane, I do so labor for your love. The muse runs foolhardy across every page, and on stage I act the jester just to catch a glimpse of that sweet Southern smile. I do so aspire to taste the nectar of your kiss. All this time apart has my heart yearning, even imploring your touch. I beseech your name to stop the tribulation, to ease the travailing of my heart. My belle I don't say these things in comfort, I adamantly long for a union of our souls, and a harmony played on our heartstrings. As God is my witness, love is our destination, however our journey begins with us. I query of your heart oh misfortuned women, what perplexes your heart? What clutters your mind's thoughts? Is it I? My only desire is your happiness. I too, see happiness as my endeavor. So this leaves us at a crossroad. Shall we be a blessed union, or do we wander trodden thoroughfare?
Preemptively yours
Michael
Categories:
misfortuned, girlfriend, heartbreak, i miss
Form: Prose
Welfare is a type of business
That does without profit
But for some unfortunate people's benefit
Is that none of your business, sir
Oh, surely not
The sympathetic heart answers
Categories:
misfortuned, business, sympathy,
Form: Free verse
5-7-5
Tragedy striking
all the children are dying-
A master prevailed!
4-5-4
Tragedy strikes
Children are dying-
Masters prevail!
7/6/2017
Kobayashi Issa as a child was cared for by his grandmother. Due to the death of his mother. When his grandmother passed he was left lonely and moody. Not too long after his father sent him on is way to make a life of his own. During this time there was a span of 10 yrs of his life that is unknown. From there he wrote a journal titled "Last Days of Issa's Father". He was also misfortuned with the loss of all his children on top of a fire destroying his home all separate occurrences. Issa wrote over 20,000 haiku's in his life and died November 19, 1827.
Categories:
misfortuned, appreciation, death, dedication, inspiration,
Form: Haiku
I was once misfortuned with being called a tool
by a man who believed I was most often the fool.
By a soul who only ever acted on his own behalf
I was told that I'm often used, simply do the math.
I played along with his insult as it was meant to be
by showing mock indignation at this thing he said to me.
I gave him then a ponderous look, and then I dully said...
"yes, but am I a useful tool? or am I broken then instead?"
He huffed and gave me a look, "you know what I meant"
Responded I, "I bet I'm new. not broken, worn or bent!"
He ignored me for the moment, his annoyance was clear.
"maybe I'm a cracker for nuts! A bottle opener for beer!?"
"Or yes! a wrench used for nuts, bolts, pipe fittings or more..."
He glared at my next words, "hopefully not from a dollar store"
I nudged him then, smiled some, "oh don't get all mud stuck"
"Hey! what if I'm chains or a tow-rope.. pull you out with any luck."
In his impatience, he yelled, "STOP!" He was looking rather mad.
I left it alone, got tight lipped, but oh what fun I just had.
Stop myself? "Ha!" I blurted then "I'm wily in my crafts"
"If I'm a tool then so are you, I'm using you for laughs"
Categories:
misfortuned, funny, hilarious,
Form: Couplet
There! a newsstand!
Inside, where that man stands.
Nobody stops for magazines
he's owing for your glance.
He loves the print on paper,
and a craving for it's smell.
A broken soul dealt hands
of cards misfortuned you can tell.
Well,
years passed.
His stand? the same.
That old lady stopped to browse,
but at home she left her change.
Seemingly sad,
So she buttoned up her coat
And whistled toward the street
for that ride to fly her home.
“Just a minute ma'am.”
He smiled, showing teeth.
“My morning traveled customer
take that tabloid there, it's free.
I’ve had this stand for years
and they never saw the sign”
-Corner Newsstand: My gift! You don’t have to pay a dime-
Categories:
misfortuned, happiness, hope, humanity, inspirational,
Form: Rhyme
Maybe if we had
Not let
Worms out
And held the
Can tight
They'd turn
Into butterflies
Late nights
And wrong
Expectations
From young
Blood
Maybe if I had
Kept some
Integreaty
And wasn't so
Willing
There'd be a
Truer resolution
Bright lights
And wrong
Phrases
From young
Blood
Maybe if he had
Been older and
Wiser
And wasn't in a
Rush
There'd be much
More to know
Pointless fights
And wrong
Acquisitions
From young
Blood
Maybe if they had
Let slumber be
Their guide
And not their
Hormones
They'd have
Butterflies
Categories:
misfortuned, life
Form: I do not know?