Thursday, October 6, 2011

Odds Are (Poem)

Odds are

some of us will grow up wanting
to make our fortunes. Some of us,

left nothing, will prize the seeking,
never ever minding what we find.

Some of us will be more like hunters,
playing the game of preying

on the old, the blue, the lonely hearts.
Some of us will take our chances,

play some numbers, bet the races,
stoke our odds of winning favors.

Some of us will stake no claims
but wait what fate foretells on paper

slipped into a sweet, light brown
and wrapped in crinkly cellophane.

What wisdom faux from foe
will profit we'll consume in each

and every crispy crescent new:
flour and sugar, eggs, and water, too.

© 2011 Maureen E. Doallas

Earlier this week L.L. Barkat posted at the TweetSpeakPoetry blog a new article, "Waking the Poet: Cures for Writer's Block", and a new Random Acts of Poetry prompt. Read L.L.'s post and then the prompt and write a poem of your own. Post the link on the T.S. Poetry Press FaceBook wall by Wednesday, October 12, to take a chance on being featured at TweetSpeak or Every Day Poems.


Kathleen Overby said...

Deeply love this one.

Sandra Heska King said...

What wisdom faux from foe will profit . . . Love that.

But now I want a cookie.

Ruth said...

I think I hear you saying that we choose our fortune. I tend to agree.

Anonymous said...

i like the crunchy outer shell of those cookies, but, i never thought that the fortune filling ever tasted that great.

S. Etole said...

such good fortune to come here!

Michael Ann said...

I LOVE this one! Goes so well with my thoughts after the death of Steve Jobs. He was clearly a go-getter, had a plan, made things happen. I'm sooo not that way. I'm the one sitting here waiting for my fate. So many different types of people in the world and so many different ways to approach life.

So love this poem.

Monica Sharman said...

The last two lines made me smile!