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Nat Lipstadt Dec 8
~inspired by a poem and messages from fellow poets ~
who have ridden beside me here,
for a decade plus,
SE Reimer, & Sally Bayan~

*we take our meds, vitamins and supplements
routinely, faithfully and with a big smile
of self-bemusement at all the times I mocked
those sillys who believed that
hu man
can
override his prescribed
sentencing

record almost every morsel that passes through my portals, reporting quantity and quality to remind me of my human needs, but
more to gauge my wearing weaknesses, and
make confession of
my sins of gourmand commission

and despite this and more, regular checkups, and blah blah blah, No Lies told here, the aging days are upon us, my brow furrowed
by a lengthening To Do list, that is endlessly
refurbished with more additions than
subtractions, ergo, the list grows longer as fast as the days remaining,
grow shorter,
ever faster!

no kidding myself, you feel (really) the cells
slowing their recovery, their fading fastness in every little thing, we squint where we used
to go without trepidation, we twist and turn
to musical utterances and undertones that
are groans and laughter at the old carcass’s
refreshing harmonic epiphany
of time’s passage

and think well,
I’ll do that tomorrow,
handle that later,
deal with that problem surely
eventually,

and the only thing that is attended to almost
instantly, is writing here,
last gasp observations,
that my being demands be issued now!
in time beating to
my slowing heart rate,
or factually,
my rapidly
rising rate,
each a contradictory economic indicator
of the same,
singular portending trend

so here I am ribbing and scribbling myself
before you, prompted by a gorgeously written poem by my friend (1) and the departure of another to a faraway land
where they live, my failure to meet, a shameful delay by an old man’s cautious
fear, that should not be abided…

is this a poem,
a cri de coeur,
a confession -
something of all three, but it is done,
breaths and words rapidly expelled, and for once. I feel like I have, once, now, gambled
against time, and actually

won
Mercy Nov 3
Heads or Tails? 
Call it, 
Tails. 
Another flip, 
Heads or Tails? 
Call it, 
Once more, Tails. 
A final toss, 
Heads or Tails? 
Call it, 
This time, Heads. 
1 in 8 for this pattern, 
50 percent, 
the mirage of certainty, 
the Gambler’s fallacy, 
a delicate dance with fate, 
try and try again, 
there is always uncertainty. 
time passes,
the stakes grow higher, 
chaos ensues,
the odds are stacked, 
and the heart races, 
fortune smiles and frowns, 
the game is relentless,
play despite the odds, 
every loss carries a lesson, 
every win, a fleeting high, 
With every flip, a new chance emerges, 
the gamble continues, 
fate is unpredictable,
who knows what awaits us? 
Only Lady Luck knows, 
In this endless cycle, 
Enjoy the unknown
kel Oct 31
icy wind, creeping in;
peeking out, pupils dilating.
the freezing cold, killin';
chirping of the birds, dying.

a blurry silhouette
skating around, freely.
playing russian roulette;
any step can break my measly-
and fragile heart.

infatuation to falling in love
I'll never have enough of him.
a love story getting wove
trying my best to get that chance
to creep into his heart
and make him feel what I feel.
Jeremy Betts Mar 30
My heart slips through it's ribbed cage
Falling under yet another set of feet
A familiar stage
A loop on repeat
The same dawn but a new age
Always ample cover-ups at the ready
Cautionary over reactionary
But underneath?
Every single forced receipt
Enraged I scramble to free it,
Ignorant of the gamble
Placed on a vague label
One that won't be held accountable
Broken in every way imaginable
Clearly fragile
Watch it unravel
No finesse
Rage and anger fills the absence
Losing the rhythm of life's presence
Leaving hand in hand with it's unique purpose
Taking notice that this will be the last defeat

©2024
We sat on a table
Drew cards and called
You got a pair of Aces
I got 7, Queen of spades

I guess with my hand
I'm a lucky girl you have
Little did I know
You got bullets on my back

That's what you get
For the risk of a bet
And that's what I regret
That I took you for granted
Jordan Ray Nov 2021
You're my tap which has no label.
I have never been a gambling man but I want to wash in your sweet water.
It's often that I become so desperate for your touch that I take the chance.

Sometimes the water is so cold that I feel numb inside.
And other times it is so hot that I can feel my blood boiling.
But sometimes. Just sometimes.
It is the perfect temperature and it sends a fuzzy feeling dancing through my bones.

It's the chance that when I turn to you, you'll give me that feeling again. It keeps me coming back to gamble once more.
Amanda Kay Burke Sep 2021
What is expected from me?
You were the half that chose to leave
I'll do my best
Be your friend
Even if leading to another dead end
Never thought we would wash up where we are
Two separate shores
Watching you from afar
Be truthful with me
That is what I most desire
Sick of the games
Frustrated
Tired
Fake way through a familiar apology
Promising to be the man I know you'll never be
Like a rolling dice
Have many faces
Expert at bluffing yet you're always holding aces
You gamble my love
About time you lose
My heart not an object to pull apart or use
I'm sick of betting my chips
The poorest hand
For you I go all-in
Don't even understand
I never was good at cards
At least that is what I'm told
Probably should cut my losses
Say farewell and finally fold
But what can I say? I guess I'm just a gambling type of girl...
Melody Mann Apr 2021
A gamble of will we duel our hearts in an arena,
Tried is the match in which we wager personifications of emotion,
Unknown is the end where we place our bets,
Risking it all on infatuation's roulette,
Entrusting one another amid poker faced facades,
Weary are we who foolishly tread the tables,
Striking a loss tonight we walk separate paths.
Jana Q Apr 2021
Gods, you’re terrible with dice.
Playing, ignoring the price
it costs us all when you roll.
Don’t you know you’re gambling souls?
Your coin is hearts, not diamonds
to be split up for your funds.
You say you’ll share the winnings,
that in the end we’ll be kings.
But when we are merely pawns
forced to play your game in bonds,
our end sees us locked in stocks,
chained and sent to mine the blocks
for building the Capital
where you’ll sit to roll and hedge
your bets against any edge
we could ever hope to gain.
Gods, you’ve caused enough pain -
but we know your weighted die
still beats everything we try.
For NaPoWriMo. A word dump on my thoughts about how the finance industry is often like a game of dice, or a gamble of any kind at all. Feel free to critique!
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