Grasp Fate by the hand, my darling.
Twist its thumb back painfully,
and it will do your bidding for a time.
Will take your lead, and follow behind
Will meekly bow its head and submit to your
Will. But if you let it go, then it will rub its hand,
and look at you implacably, and wander off -
expecting you to follow. Expecting you to heed the call
of its inscrutably retreating rear end. Fate is used
to having people trail after it, pleading and entreating;
gnashing their teeth, wringing their hands. But darling:
don't waste time trailing listlessly in Fate's wake.
Grasp Fate by the hand! Go for the thumb!
That's its weak spot.
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.
Try the RANDOM button, to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.
*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.