"sweepstake" poems
The Luck of the Irish isn't found in a stone
It isn't found in a Field of clover
Its not found in the Irish Sweepstake even
That is, not unless you're the one that wins
Its found in the twinkle of the eye , you know it
And we're all borm with the tongues of a poet.....Erin4Ever
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
Too good to be in love.
Too good to love just anyone
Somehow I'm the lucky one.
Shocked.
Surprised.
And even amazed.
That somehow I'm the lucky one.
Never thought I have the chance.
Or ever knew you was interested.
Then love is a mystery.
That's usually hard to solve.
Let alone describe.
I just know in this case.
Somehow I'm the lucky guy.
To have this beautiful woman called mine.
She's a keeper.
She's a prize.
I feel as if I won the sweepstake.
When she entered into my life.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
They said I would die
Before forty
My friends and
Their bets
Thought I would die
2014
When my world stopped
So glad I failed
To die as so much
I failed before
So glad to read you
And you and you
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 3:22 AM UTC
We met at a bar called Crossroads, just myself and I.
We didn't like each other much, yet we decided to buy.
Two glasses of whisky please, don't forget the paradox.
Which like our drinks, leaves us on the rocks.
The saloon doors swing slightly, only to reveal.
Memories of before, when we could both feel.
Two more whiskies please, and don't forget the paradox.
Which like our drinks, leaves us on the rocks.
The hour is now late and I like you even less.
Well you're an incoherent, introspective mess.
Two more whiskies please, and this'll be our last.
Let's share a toast, a toast to our past.
Two fire exits alight, we've a decision to make.
I can't see beyond the doors, this twisted sweepstake.
Crossroads is now closing, only open for tonight.
We left together bloodied, choosing the future in our own right.
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 6:45 PM UTC