“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label odds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label odds. Show all posts
Monday, January 22, 2018
What are the Chances, Chances Are
What are the chances:
That your most despised frenemy suddenly found themselves
sitting down next to you in the only open seat-
of being late and avoiding an accident-
Someone looks like you, but worse-
They are better versions-
Saying something meaningful aloud-
It becomes true-
Anything true can be said-
There are second impressions
called shadows-
We can make ourselves proud-
without too much pride-
Our dreams are someone else's-
You are the true version
of someone else's dreams-
True love is only a test-
Chances are:
-more likely you will drown (one in eighty-four)
than getting killed by a shark (one in nearly four million)
-you will end up looking like your dog, your mate,
your old self
-the Universe listens
-fear of shadows once saved our lives
fear of shadows from towers we have built
enshrouds our lives
-nightmares are honest discussions
-Love's Labour's Lost
Painting by Unknown c. 1892 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Just take a chance
The games we play
occupy our attention,
give us chance,
to entertain and refrain us
from certainties. We gamble
to participate in our fate
in the end, the outcome,
the odds
on us, against loss.
We leverage the inevitable,
predict the unfathomable
and recognize our own home range,
stable-steady,
gait in the headlong stride
of the dark horse.
-just to see-
We dance with destiny
then trip on our own shod
limbs that lead to
breaking those lucky legs
and just chalk it up to the chance
we lost.
Image is of a wood engraving by W.L. Sheppard (drawn by W.B. Meyers), Harpers Weekly October 1870, Betting on the Favorite.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
And then...
Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign, at first...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
-
This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...