Friday the 13th is notoriously unlucky, a superstition held in Western cultures. Facing black cats, walking beneath ladders, or breaking a mirror; our poets bravely wrote to humor us despite a bit of bad luck.
One amongst them all rose to be the winning entry, and that was:
Oh Heck, by Hobbo
Seems like a case of bad luck to me
In agony, needs appendectomy
Flash of the blade
Incision is made
Surgeon thinks it’s a vasectomy.
Congratulations, Hobbo! You are the funniest poet for the week!
These poems were GREAT. I stifled snickers at midnight (the time I finally have to read over entries!) Hobbo’s elicited an unladylike snort; short, painfully funny, and definitely to the point.
I feel badly for all the poor luck had, but know you’ll enjoy reading the rest of the clever poems:
Thirteen Demons Sitting on the Wall, by Frank Hubeny
Lucky this or lucky that,
Luck as bad as that black cat
Cuddling, purring by my side,
Unlikely place for luck to hide.
Thirteen demons looking mean
Pretending that I haven’t seen
Them cackling when they watch me frown.
Too bored to laugh. I stare them down.
It’s not bad luck that made them fall.
They jumped like Humpty from the wall
And then they cracked. Oops. Breakfast time!
They’re lucky. That’s my final rhyme.
Lots, items, knacks, everything, by Deb Whittam
To the counter she marched
resolute, chin held high as
she looked the shopkeeper
directly in the eye.
That painting, there, the one
above the door, I’ll give
you twenty dollars,
not a penny more.
Silence met her words
but with a nod he agreed
and painting in her hand, she smirked,
there had been no need to plead.
At home she unwrapped
her highly sought after prize
only to discover on the frame
a notation that made shock arise.
twenty she had paid,
twenty she had offered,
but the tag clearly stated
clearance – just one dollar.
Riding your bad luck, by Doug Jacquier
Harry didn’t whinge about the flies
that crawled up his nose and in his eyes.
Townies might, like Tom, and Dick and Jim
but Harry would never have that said of him.
Out here, a man who couldn’t fix
a snapped axle (he knew all the tricks),
on a mail truck in a dry creek bed,
wouldn’t be worth bein’ bloody fed.
As for thinking you could hear a train,
you’d have to be born without a brain
or be a mental case escaped detention,
so he paid it not the least attention.
Well, he was right about the train
but what he heard was a wall of rain;
the flash flood took the mail and the truck
and Harry cursed but rode his luck.
A Shaggy Cats Tale, by Obbverse
We had a big black cat,
Grumpy, greedy, weigh too fat,
On Duckpond Bridge he was often sat;
Everything was ducky.
One big bad duck had enough of that,
Feathers flew, one bloody cat lost that spat,
Ran into the path of a passing Dodge Diplomat;
Flat out unlucky.
The Unlucky Date, by Heather Bergen
Jerry was unlucky,
His life was really sucky.
He couldn’t find love on account of his gas,
But finally, one day, he found a young lass.
He asked her out and set the date,
Though Friday 13, it couldn’t wait.
Though warned to postpone,
Jerry would not be alone!
But alas, he did leave broken hearted,
For as they sat down to dine he wet farted.
Untitled, by Gary
Oh no it’s Friday the thirteenth
Which is one less than fourteenth
Started the day by breaking a bedroom mirror
To find my huge tax bill just got a whole lot dearer
Then I mistakenly opened an umbrella indoors
And now my garden is full of rowdy dinosaurs
I foolishly walked under a builders ladder
And got bit on the bum by an angry adder
With a sore butt I then I stepped on a crack
Only to be attacked by a rabid wolf pack
Finally a Black Cat crossed my path
And now I’ve just fallen into the bath
Untitled, by Cupcakecache
needed no prescription
to find a home
next to the pug
running 3 feet from the black cat
Chasing the black cat
darting across the street
The black cat licked her lips
and as she gleefully bit into the tuna
happened to escape the house
only to have the cat prance by
as if to say “Did I not eat a tasty morsel like you in another life, my 7th?”
The pug bit his lip
shrugged it up to Karma
and went off to take a walk around the hood.
I Suck at Luck, by Sara
Bought the winning ticket
Wind swept it in the thicket
Met a nice gal
She considers me a pal
Went for a run
For health and fun
Tripped two minutes in
I just can’t win
Adopted a dog
What a slob
He drooled on the couch
And ate the door
Tossed a message in the ocean
It rolled back to shore
I professed my love
To a sweetheart from school
She wrote right back
Her response, so cruel
You bullied me, she said
Made fun of my hair,
I hope your life has been filled with despair
I suck at luck
That much is true
But, as it turns out,
Karma was due
Friday the 13th Birthday, by Ruth Scribbles
‘Twas the night before Friday
When all through the house
Everyone was hiding
Yes, Even the mouse
They were all afraid
Of how she would act
When she discovered
The presents sent back
Her mommy and daddy
Cuddled up in the closet
Her siblings were hiding
And eating the chocolate
She arose from her bed,
Fuzzy was her head
“It’s my birthday!” She declared
“What a dreadful dream! How absurd!”
Thank you so much for the hilarious entries! Come back tomorrow for the next prompt. You’ll have a month to submit an entry!
Hobbo, here’s a badge for you to use on your site (again). Congratulations!
©2020 The poets, and their respective works