Fortune: A poem 

Many dream of fortune’s resplendent kiss 

It shines on some, and gives others a miss 

That storms do raze, while breezes kindly flow 

The spindles of fate their omnipotence show 

Some earn a dime, and some make a billion  

Then, can we rue fortune is the telling villain 

How its darkened face, on some, rains like dust 

with empty, cold, hungry, meagre breadcrumbs 

Yet can we put it all down to fortune? 

The blame that shouts from a mendicant’s spoon 

Is the cornucopia of wealth in the labour? 

Cities of splendour are built from endeavour 

A fisherman’s luck is when he knows 

where the shoals of fish are galore  

A nation’s fortune is in its collective will 

Turning a flowing river from a little rill 

How can we tell the truth from the reality? 

It seems there can be undeserved brutality 

Those that see the rainbow get the pot of gold 

And the darkness, for some, is a curse to behold