National Poetry Month 2016: April 13

[RiverNotch]

Again, the rule is you've got to write something on the topic or form described, with yer poems being in different posts. And that month thing -- prompts'll stop by April 30.

TODAY'S TOPIC: Inspired by luck, fortune, or fatalism.
FORM: Any
LINE REQUIREMENTS: 8 lines or more

Credit where it's due; the idea and the prompts come from this site:
Poetry Forum - - Post poetry, get feedback, give critique.

 

[RiverNotch]

ROTA FORTUNAE

Should the shadow of my thumb
scratch the mole upon your back,
will you bleed?

Anything for you
is so cliche. And besides,
that's not how metaphors work.
Here:

I'll never get used
to losing my keys.
I can lose
anything, really,
just not keys.

Everything can be replaced,
like the broken wheels of a cart.
It's just harder to replace
a lock, having to call for help
in breaking a door open,
either through force
or through artifice -- than it is, say,
to crack open a book and remember
a name, to make connections
between a memory and
an heirloom, to mark
the passage of time
and declare a certain place
home,

to sit beside a stranger
by accident and say, "Hello.
Should the shadow of my thumb

 

[noodle]

A roll of the die,
A spin of the wheel,
A toss of the coin,
All decide if you live or die.

Because fortune,
Can be fickle,
Doesn't care,
Even when lives are on the line.

For me, just wait,
Grab the rope,
Hold on against the odds,
I will stay alive too.

 

[PoetLore]

In a far distant future
Where life is not secure
One can throw caution to the wind
And attempt the challenge of the door
There are many doors to choose from
Most lead to hardship, pain and more
A few lead to a smaller treasure
But one to untold wealth galore
Would you try your luck in this?
If so, what would you find behind your chosen door?

 

[Doctor Jax]

Sic creatus mundi
"So the world is created"
a great, inevitability
of circumstance, of causality.

Determinism reigns over reality,
alpha, omega,, beginning, finale,
a collision course billions of years long,
a Rube-Goldberg machine set off with a bang.

And what are you? A cog in the mechanism,
but a cog of infinite intricacy,
a pinwheel made of chemical insanity
that understands and seeks to understand.

And you are individual, the way a star is individual,
made of so many requisite parts, headed a certain way
to collide with others ahead of you to create something new
that was already determined, but no less beautiful for it.