Have you ever seen the film Notting Hill Starring Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts, it’s a great film. There is a scene in there which l have linked that brings Oopsy Daisy to life! believe it or not l say this all the time, so thought it ample to show you the little poem l dedicated to it years ago.
It’s not that l am unlucky per se,
Fate and destiny serve me well,
But l am a bit of a clumsy beast,
Like a devil in accident-prone hell!
Matters not either, how careful l try to be,
Caution seems to float past my head,
With disaster following rather quickly!
From as far back as my memory serves,
Surrounded l have been by mishaps,
Like someone above wants me to get my just desserts,
Or perhaps God wants me kidnapped,
By aliens who might like to probe,
Deep inside my careless mind,
To discover if my frontal lobe,
Is present completely and utterly all the time!
Falling into holes, slipping over rocks,
Being chased by nutty squirrels,
Wiring up badly and burning with the shock,
Running, jumping and falling flat on hurdles!
Tragedy always follows me wherever l go,
Matters not really, how careful l am,
Gingerly stepping through life with a steady whoa!
Simply put, l am an accident prone man!
Emotionally, personally, physically,
Intellectually, all the same,
Accidents, mishaps, disasters fundamentally,
If it can go wrong, it’s my claim to fame!
Dropping into monsoon drains,
And carried out to sea,
I know it sounds insane,
But it always happens to me,
Getting to the point, that it looks deliberate,
Trying to get attention maybe,
Don’t think so in all honesty, it just predates,
On me, like a dirty great disability!
Bouncing out of the saddle of a galloping horse,
And eating half the countryside,
Swallowing my teeth and buggering my jaws,
Not mentioning what it did to my insides,
Russian roulette might be luckier,
One bullet destined to the brain,
Would probably miss as a procedure,
And ricochet off the wall awarding me more pain,
But not death, for it would appear,
Despite all the worst that can happen,
The grim reaper l think lives in fear,
Of my soul, and finds it funnier to see me in action,
Rather than claiming me as his own,
He revels in offering me a life filled with dread,
And laughs joyously at this human cyclone,
That bangs around through his life instead,
Praying that the dangerous cycle may soon stop,
And that the words ‘Oopsy Daisy’,
Might soon end and close down like a shop
Not to be seen again … maybe,
Alas however l thinks l is doomed,
To a life of bangs, scrapes, breaks and close shaves,
And that from my birth l have been groomed,
By some mischievous imp who was seriously depraved!
Relishing in the sad factor, that there is always one,
Who has to have their pathway,
Lined with disasters, accidents and unlucky fun,
Not forgetting the term Oopsy bloody Daisy!
© Rory Matier 2012