Fortuna
Cloaked in mystery and an ineffable air,
She bestows favours with comical whimsy,
Providing luck without regard or care,
Her reason notoriously hard to see.
They say she favours the bold,
Is attracted to courage and daring,
But isn't moved by prayers or gold,
Nor begging or swearing.
Sometimes she helps us in our darkest hours,
Sometimes she kicks us when we are face down in the dirt,
Sometimes she turns all that is sweet sour,
Sometimes she soothes our pain and hurt.
Sometimes she guides us home when we've lost our way,
Sometimes she frees us from hopeless stagnation,
Sometimes she beguiles and leads us astray,
Sometimes she robs us of our joy and elation.
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poem by Bill Bob
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The Redemption of Werthur
Oh don't let thy passion break free,
Taciturn and reserved thou should be,
Hearken to Werthur, the poor man,
Who was undone by effusive passion.
So say those of quiet disposition,
Who see demonstrative emotion as a sin,
Saying its not quite right,
For passion to give us that much fight,
They see it as a perversion of normal function,
From which we should all run,
They say that it appears unnatural,
To heed passions fiery call.
Better to keep it locked behind a facade of stone,
To make sure that its never shown,
Better to be hiding behind our reservations,
Than feel our natural sensations.
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poem by Bill Bob
Added by Poetry Lover
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