nissa
nissa
Jun 30      Jun 30

i should've listened to my mother
when she was talking to me about omens and premonitions
like how the glass slid off the tabletop that day
and i went out anyway

i should've listened to my mother
when she was talking about lucky numbers and feng shui
like how we met on friday the thirteenth
"mom, you're being cheesy, there's no such thing."

i should've listened to my mother
when she was talking about colours and hell
like how black skies were signs of demons
the ones that aren't quite like the ones in my head.

i should've listened to my mother
when she spoke of trembling hands and death
like how i shouldn't have left an hour earlier that day
because the dishes broke in the sink
and my father decided that wasn't a good enough reason to stay.

superstitions haunt our daily lives whether we admit it or not.
and i'm scared that this will happen one day.
it seems superficial.
but this fear eats away at me.
and you.
it scratches at your jugular veins.
one of the most personal things i've ever written.
Zachary Fore
Sep 12, 2010

I laugh as I
spout blasphemy
you cringe at every word
but when I walk
on the streets
I avoid
every
crack

Courtney Snodgrass
Courtney Snodgrass
Oct 19, 2012

Dandelion dust,
Falling like leaves,
Floating away in the warm Spring breeze.

Eyelash landings upon soft skin,
Reminiscing on old memories,
Seeming to be lost within.

Making 11:11 wishes,
For soft, light, fingertip, kisses.

abusive relationships? or just the longing of being loved. let me know how you interpret it.
Avoid reading silly poetry about superstitions;
Ramonez Ramirez
Ramonez Ramirez
Feb 25, 2011

Only step on light-coloured paving slabs;
there are gaping voids under the darker ones
filled with a twisted-mustard fog made up of cut-off hands, heads, and genitals
that grope, suck and squirt foul-smelling, luminous goo all over you
as you go down, down, down
your screams will fall on deaf ears, and your voice will drown you;
your voice will be your downfall.

Never sleep with a gun under your pillow;
someone you love might annoy you in the slightest – and vice versa –
nightmares are so much more frightening when they become reality.
You will cry, cry, cry
(your cries won’t be heard if you swallow a bullet first, of course),
and cleaning the corners, where the Witness Spiders sneer, is a bitch.

Never sleep with a book under your pillow;
you might wake up thinking Wow, what a beautiful day,
not knowing that you’ve been sucked into one of the author’s stories –
leaked from his pen, though not inked;
the fleeting thought of a madman
who dreams about writing a bestseller on family murders.
You will scrub, scrub, scrub.

Avoid reading silly poetry about superstitions;
the words might be those of a madman who writes with a cheap pen,
the ink spilled all over the page on purpose.

Foolish superstitions bring apprehension to the stand
Neva Flores Smith
Neva Flores Smith
Jun 22, 2010

Foolish superstitions bring apprehension to the stand
Paralyzing the heart of the bravest man
Fiercely gripping him in a fear so impetuously insane
He merely looks at you in wonder, when you ask his name

Infestation of delusion spreads throughout his senses
Freezing him and all his logic a bitter cold
As a black feline runs across his path, you can see him lose it all
While gripping tightly to the steering wheel he holds

For seven years now, he has mourned the loss of his Lady Luck
While imprisoned in the mirror that he broke
As he believes this to be, the cause of all that has gone wrong
One can almost feel sorry for this poor bloke

The worst days of the year may be his untimely demise
As each time Friday the 13th comes into play
You can see him slowly lose his mind as he makes attempts
To avoid anything and everything that day

I cannot imagine living in this world of dreadful fear
Such a distressful existence this would be
Believing in the lies of old wives tales and bad omens
Is certainly not the choice in life for me

Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/HerVigil

I never used to believe it.
Pennys that bring good luck.
Black cats that make you weep.
Something about mirrors.

But now.

Now I understand it.
Because dreams, and wishes, and all the other bullshit.
It's real.
And crazy thing is..
I've experienced it.

Maybe it was a completely backwards way.
And maybe whoevers in charge of all that crap got confused.
But I found you.
And you weren't exactly who I had in mind.
But you seem to be better than what I thought I deserved.

So now I make 11.11 wishes.
And I pick up those dirty coins and count to 3 and make a wish.
And I don't try smash mirrors anymore.
You've shown me love is real.
That movie. Heartfelt. Real love.

Premonitions and superstitions

A solitary solecism
An evaporating vision
Premonitions and superstitions
Withered hopes
Amorphous, insubstantial
Episodic swings
Digressions and detours
Evasions, deviations
Changing lanes
Accelerating and overtaking
Swerving
Inhibitions colliding.

All throughout History,
It's always been a mystery.
The most unlucky of days,
On this day we change our ways.
Careful what we do,
Careful when we tie our shoe.
Stay in and lock your door,
Don't get up off the floor.
Black cats and spilled salt,
The broken mirror is not my fault!
Avoiding ladders and a sidewalk crack,
Being on guard we do not lack.
Some say it's a day of fun,
Others shiver, hide, and run.
Some say it's black magic that comes out today,
Some say that it's demons here to stay.
Whatever your superstition on this very day,
Everyone's wits will shred and fray.
The day of bad luck comes only so often,
Let's just pray it doesn't lead to a coffin.

Superstition is a way of life. Either you don't care or Friday the 13th is a terrifying day!
                    Friday The 13th™  By Nadia DeLevea
MoMo
MoMo
Mar 12, 2013

IF you hold this poem up to the light.
it will interpret your dreams.
Just beneath the surface,
the dead use this poem to claim lives.
That is an orphan.
It says this psychic reading may cause it to bleed ink.
It detects irregular heartbeats
by the accidental, the psychological.
This usually means three things:
Sex, booze, gambling.
When certain people get special powers
dial 1-800-F-O-R-T-U-N-E for only 99 cents per minute.
The mystery is, this poem can crack all family secrets
if you put it under your pillow,
processes that seem to be outside
the physical and natural laws.

A cento from Elizabeth Powell's  This Poem is Psychic
http://muse.jhu.edu/login?auth=0&type;=summary&url;=/journals/missouri_review/v028/28.1powell01.html
 
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