Ballerina With Fins

To Lady Luck - Poem by Ballerina With Fins

Nobody in their right minds (though
everybody isn't that right) will forget
that day, you glided elegantly
through the roaring crowd, your hands
moving only in those
large sweeping gestures, your eyes
twinkling wildly.

you were dressed in sparkling
robes of stark yellow and black,
the queen bee in a heap of dull
slugs, you were the creme
de la creme of the crowd, and
everyone goggled at you, hoping you
would swoop down on them
and shower them with Luck
with the grace of a
Professional ballerina.

You were the world's greatest
philanthropist; your benevolence
outshone the rests'. You
donated to charities in excessive
amounts as if money were
nothing to you (though, of course
you had a few billion dollars
stuffed under the driver's seat of
your black Mercedes) .
You travelled around the world to
feed the starving children. You
campaigned to save the whales. You
wept buckets of tears for those less
fortunate than you. You found something
to love in everybody, so everybody
loved you back.

Oh, Lady Luck, I recall that day,
when they all dreamt of you
shaking their eager hands and
they reached out to feel your
sugar-spunstiffhair, made of the
stuff dreams are made of, but the
yellow-black barrier pulled them
back, but no, i recall, they
wouldn't give up, they simply
wouldn't. they waited in line all
day to rub that four-leaf clover tattoo
on your left thigh. you, I recall,
merely sipped blackcurrant champagne
calmly while waiting for them to
move off.

All eyes were on you, and you alone.
they all wanted a souveneir of your
existence, a bit of Luck, they said
hopefully, was all they asked for.
A bit of Luck to satisfy their needs, to
win the lottery, to pass the examinations,
to get more money, to get a second
chance, to get, to receive, never
to give. however, you promised
it all to them.

they were all brainwashed, and
you were a heroine in their eyes.
you gave them hope, and confidence,
and assured them that they would get
what they wanted. Only I was not mesmerised
by your glamour rays. I saw
through you. It was all an act. Show Business.
The tears you shed were crocodile tears. The
love you felt was plastic. you heart, in fact,
was plastic. And perhaps, even your clover tattoo
was a mere stick-on! For i had more experience
than others, having failed, having been disappointed, I
now know, that you, O great Lady Luck,
do not exist.

Comments about To Lady Luck by Ballerina With Fins

  • Brian Dorn (5/4/2006 10:56:00 AM)

    No lady luck here, a brilliant write, a ballet on paper...
    (Report) Reply

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  • (4/28/2006 6:21:00 PM)

    so true. a good read. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 12, 2005

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