Tuesday, April 21, 2015

NatPoMo poem from a friend

"The Lottery Prayer"

Another winter morning,
another day I am not a millionaire.
The Lord of Chance is my shepherd.
He makes me want. He tells me I must play
to win. He leadeth me down a path
toward early retirement.
I follow religiously.
Yea, though I drive through
the valley in a shadow of debt
to buy my tickets, I am still left wanting.
My friends and family comfort me.
They prepare a meal for me each week
to supplement the hole the lottery leaves
in my grocery budget.
I play their birthdays, ages,
wedding and divorce dates.
I play shoe, dress, waist, and bra sizes.
I play the days in a month,
the months in a year,
the year my car was built.
I play the numbers printed inside
fortune cookies, if the fortune is good.

Oh, Lord of Chance, drop
some Ping-Pong balls my way.
Help me become the generous man
I am meant to be. Help me build
the non-profit foundation dedicated
to supporting abused, homeless, hungry,
handicapped, mentally, emotionally
and imaginatively challenged literary artists—
that is my destiny. Help me build a library
branch (to later be named in my honor).
What do I need to do, Lord? I've already
given up smoking and drinking, sacrificed
my beloved Mustang. I can't give up
my wife; she buys half the tickets.
I can't give up my first born;
he's expecting a piece of the prize.
Anything else is fair game.

- M. Scott Douglass