Evil eye cast my way.
My luck’s about to turn a corner.
Black cat’s coming this way.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
You are my white dove,
carrying an olive branch to my doorstep.
And I, the black cat
sitting in your path, forcing you to walk under ladders.
2025.1.30
CNY 2nd day.
Today, the celebration continues.
People visit their distance relatives,
Their grand parents, aunties, uncles and cousins,
The CNY visiting's routine become formal and practical,
The meals is also less glamorous
There will be lobster, oysters and prawns.
The rotating hexagon box,
Full of sweets and candies are still on.
Chinese people believe,
What happens in the first three days in CNY,
Will repeat throughout the year.
I believe that is purely superstitious.
However I have already experienced two strange incidences.
I wish it will never happen again.
One was, I received no phone calls nor replies to my messages
Which I was asked to do someone favors.
The other related to "My music adventure"
Goodbye 2nd day of CNY.
Superstitious! Me?
Please! Don't take me for a fool
Knock, knock, knock on wood
Uncle Ed came to live with us when he was in his seventies
He felt old, weird, and he had white hair on his face
It sprouted out of his nose
He was our distant uncle, a blue baby who should not have lived
But the doctor kept working on him way after he should have given up
His superstitions were unbelievable.
He would shake uncontrollably if he noticed anything plugged in.
So the toaster, blender, tv set, coffee pot had to be off if he noticed.
He would scream loudly if the cat came into the room
For he believed cats would steal your breath while you slept.
He would not stop screaming until Mable was removed.
We did not like him. He was old and weird and creepy.
Until he began showing us his cards. He had one for everything.
Heart cards, diamond cards, and clover cards.
We did not know until years later that some cards have spades.
Uncle Ed thought spades were the work of the devil, so he had thrown them away.
Thirteen - a number that delights and excites those nearing
A birthday that includes it.
Thirteen – a superstitious black cat with a witchy feel to it.
Especially if you’re born in October.
Thirteen – three extra digits if you try to make a clock out of it.
Can be done if you write the extra numbers as do, ray, me.
Thirteen – some will not rent a room, being superstitious too.
Numerologists add the numbers in your address so 1822 is thirteen too.
What about 9103, and 4711?
I wonder which thirteen of you are adding up
Your house numbers now? Statistics. Fascinating also!
For There Is A Brighter Side Contest
Picture #2
Superstition can be fun
Since the day it has begun
Seeing others try to shake
Unlucky feelings as they wake
Ladders you can not walk under
Spilling salt is a big blunder
Don't step on a sidewalk crack
But don't pick on a cute black cat
They're called unlucky all the time
But its such a shameful crime
Cute and fury big sweet eyes
Their tiny little purry cries
Can melt a heart right to the core
Playing with yarn on the floor
Is always a funny thing
In a lonely life they bring
Comfort and joy from day to night
They are not a scary fright
When they curl up in your lap
A peaceful dream with a cat nap
Furry or flat fur to pet
And please do not forget
They get rid of pesky mice
Which is very very nice
To all black kitties everywhere
You'll be hugged with tender care
From now on and shunned no more
Love you have never felt before
Superstitious in Spirit
Spirit sometimes good or evil,
tries to influence however.
May come as angel or devil,
turning killer or saviour.
If danger spreads ten tentacles,
chases, puts life in corner tight
haply may happen miracles,
making present brilliant bright.
Being bewildered in dilemma,
how to proceed or where to go?
Sudden sense of strange aroma,
guiding the right path to follow.
Specific spirit in guise behind,
either helpful or damaging.
guiding or misguiding mind.
Ever existing-persisting.
06/15/17
SPIRIT GUIDES Contest by White Wolf
Karma doesn’t exist in my little life,
Beginners luck, it’s a superstition.
No fear of failure at anything new,
Every day there’s a new proposition.
But when bad luck does come to visit,
It visits in a small trinity.
This set of three is just bad luck,
Three fingers from divinity.
However, I do watch for black cats,
And ladders I never walk under.
I’m never going to smash a mirror,
And black cats leave me asunder.
I’ll cross my fingers when telling a fib,
And Friday the 13th chills in this neighborhood.
But really I know it’s all arbitrary,
It’s not a truth, now I need to touch wood.
If I can cast evil, by directing my vision.
To cause damage to some one’s life.
If my offerings to the gods,
can enhance my blessings.
If tonsuring my head,
I can gain the compassion of gods.
If every day I kneel and pray,
the gods are pleased with me.
And bless me accordingly.
If all the rituals l sincerely perform,
without fail can keep the evil at bay.
If horoscopes can help chart a course,
towards a prosperous and healthy life.
If the crystal ball can reveal my future.
If confession of my sins,
can cleanse the blot away.
If I prostrate at the feet of god men,
can he take my pain and suffering away.
If wishes were granted,
for a price by the divine.
Only the wealthy can roam this earth.
No sickness, no hunger, no pain, no death.
Awaiting another big bang.
Its all creations of your devious mind,
playing tricks on you.
Your not listening to your guiding light.
You divorced her from your heart.
She is still whispering to you.
Your humble soul.
Follow the yellow
brick road. Eyes will lead the soul.
Never cross its path.
superstitious, searching
for a sign, this down-and-out
gambler frame of mind,
I pulled up my damp
raincoat collar to the biting
chill of the ashen fog
that crept in stealthily
off the bay, frosting soft
on my tinted windshield,
seemed to me luckless
morn came my way;
but shortly after a light
drizzle this afternoon,
I secretly rejoiced,
with child-like delight,
I paused and gasped as
I gawked up at a triple rainbow
that arched across
the city skyline just like
a natural on the next roll
of the dice for my
superstitious eyes !
The water was quiet
Like the world had folded into one slippery cloth
With moist air dragged by some unknown power
The origin had never been known
Of this deep bowl of blue.
My fingers never reached the shallowest sand
Where the damp wind touched the naked earth
My face with every detail
Was carved in this transparent wood
By an anonymous painter with brushes
Invented from somewhere above.
The blend of colors were mixed in shape
My hair that were just a bundle of ropes emerging from the dark
Interlocked with my forehead
Like a brown sheet left forgotten by the dancer.
My speech had a source, which pierced through a crack in the face
Guarded by thirty two white blood hounds
And a slimy python.
Suddenly a piece of earth
A pebble of such fine mould
Fainted into the translucent sheet
Which protected the Piscean empire underneath.
The painting that was behind a thin red line
Between superstition and reality
Broke into the brackish water.
The carved wood was lost
The artist had erased what he had created-
An image seemed so true
But was indeed such a simple lie.
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