Short Luckless Poems
Short Luckless Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Luckless by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Luckless by length and keyword.
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.
Luckless vessel plucked from the surface;
sucked into uncharted fathoms.
Relentless, roiling vortex
consumes all evidence.
Sated, exhausted,
swirling eddy
dissipates.
All is
calm.
The boxing, leaping mad March hares
That chase and dash in umpteen pairs,
That tear through fields, and hare up hills -
All jealous Jacks, or Jacks and Jills
(The femme fatales, the luckless beaus)?
But are they crazy? No one knows…
Alabaster wings in celestial blue,
glissading on the surface of winds.
Stalking the shore, aerial view,
for luckless winkles and crabs —
briny delicacies.
Lightly ascending
on tapered wings,
seagull sails -
graceful
white.
Susan Ashley
July 17, 2017
I searched for a four leaf clover,
On all fours I looked all over.
My knees were in pain,
Then I gasped in disdain,
"Luckless Lass!!" My hand grasped, gift from Rover.
Loneliness lurks like a live leprechaun,
Leering at her loss of love and laughter;
She leads a luckless lamentable life,
Lacking light, leaning towards lunacy,
Laden with longing and lacklustre lies;
Listlessly lingering in lethargy,
Labyrinthine lady looks lachrymose.
03.25.2021
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
O luckless maid! such beauteous
blush with modest blandishments
did'st flash to woo a Prince
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp!
Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish,
true love was the hapless prey,
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd
in the Dane's misguided sway.
It drove thee mindless, to a frenzy,
death thy only destination,
borne by rippling river's eddy
to thy final resting place.
O luckless maid! such beauteous
blush with modest blandishments
did'st flash to woo a Prince
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp!
Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish,
true love was the hapless prey,
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd
in the Dane's misguided sway.
It drove thee mindless, to a frenzy,
death thy only destination,
borne by rippling river's eddy
to thy final resting place.
O luckless maid! such beauteous
blush with modest blandishments
did'st flash to woo a Prince
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp!
Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish,
true love was the hapless prey,
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd
by the Dane's misguided sway.
It drove thee mindless, to a frenzy,
death thy only destination,
borne by rippling river's eddy
to thy final resting place.
O luckless maid! such beauteous
blush with modest blandishments
did'st flash to woo a Prince
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp!
Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish,
true love was the hapless prey,
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd
by the Dane's misguided sway.
It drove thee mindless, to a frenzy,
death thy only destination,
borne by rippling river's eddy
to thy final resting place.
O luckless maid! such beauteous
blush with modest blandishments
did'st flash to woo a Prince
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp!
Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish,
true love was the hapless prey,
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd
by the Dane's misguided sway.
It drove thee mindless, to a frenzy,
death thy only destination,
borne by rippling river's eddy
to thy final resting place.
O luckless maid! such beauteous
blush with modest blandishments
did'st flash to woo a Prince
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp!
Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish,
true love was the hapless prey,
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd
by the Dane's misguided sway.
It drove thee mindless, to a frenzy,
death thy only destination,
borne by rippling river's eddy
to thy final resting place.
Even dragons dream
Thirsting for the gleam
Of a maiden’s green, green eye,
Preferably with some
Brave fool knight who’ll come
Trying to save her, or else die;
“St. George, St. George,” the warrior’s cry.
Dragons need the thrill
Of a knight’s fierce skill,
Thrusting lance, and flashing spur;
Otherwise, how dull,
Munching on the skull
Of some luckless traveler:
Dragons dream of days that were.
Even dragons dream
Thirsting for the gleam
Of a maiden’s green, green eye,
Preferably with some
Brave fool knight who’ll come
Trying to save her, or else die;
“St. George, St. George,” the warrior’s cry.
Dragons need the thrill
Of a knight’s fierce skill,
Thrusting lance, and flashing spur;
Otherwise, how dull,
Munching on the skull
Of some luckless traveler:
Dragons dream of days that were.
Geese are
Not gifted
Spellers.
They write
Poems
In their eggs.
The letters
Cannot
Be separated
From their yokes.
In the court
Of the Blue King
Atrocious spelling
Is called “Goose-spelling.”
Turn of phrases
That cannot
Be separated
From its image.
Conversely Wicked spelling
Is known as Dragon-spelling.
Where quatrains
May spontaneously combust
Burning the finger
Of luckless scribes.
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?
Just look hard into the core of you
if, for the luckless needy,
your masked generosity
springs from smug condescension
thinly disguising disdain;
if your act of charity
makes one feel like a beggar
and you glorify yourself,
cruelly rubbing it in;
if your seeming kindness flows
from a sense of proud power
that so aches to be flaunted
and gratefully acknowledged,
then, look hard into the core of you.
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.
Underrated Basil got a promotion
And it caused a commotion
Among luckless names for demotion
All of them restive and voicing the notion
Of An Elevation fathered by emotion…
They shall for the two wrongs raise a motion
Before the cause of their commotion:
A man you could enrapture with perfumed lotion,
That Bribery be distanced from Promotion
And Barefaced Trickery from Demotion.
Also, wages that should all please
And not a single soul displease.