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Pool's Prince Charming
by Michael R. Burch

this is my tribute poem, written on the behalf of his fellow pool sharks, for the legendary Saint Louie Louie Roberts

Louie, Louie, Prince of Pool,
making all the ladies drool ...
Take the “nuts”? I'd be a fool!
Louie, Louie, Prince of Pool.

Louie, Louie, pretty as Elvis,
owner of (ahem) a similar pelvis ...
Compared to you, the books will shelve us.
Louie, Louie, pretty as Elvis.

Louie, Louie, fearless gambler,
ladies' man and constant rambler,
but such a sweet, loquacious ambler!
Louie, Louie, fearless gambler.

Louie, Louie, angelic, chthonic,
pool's charming hero, but tragic, Byronic,
winning the Open drinking gin and tonic?
Louie, Louie, angelic, chthonic.

NOTE: If you like my tribute you are welcome to share it, but please credit me as the author, which you can do by copying the title and subheading. I used poetic license about what Louie Roberts was or wasn't drinking at the 1981 U. S. Open Nine-Ball Championship. Was Louie drinking hard liquor as he came charging back through the losers' bracket to win the whole shebang? Or was he just pretending to drink for gamesmanship or some other reason? I honestly don't know. As for the word “chthonic,” it’s pronounced “thonic” and means “subterranean” or “of the underworld.” And the pool world at its worst can be very dark indeed, as Louie’s tragic demise suggests. But everyone who knew Louie seemed to like him, if not love him dearly, and many sharks have spoken of Louie in glowing terms, as a bringer of light to that underworld. Keywords/Tags: pool, shark, billiards, nine ball, Saint Louie Roberts, gambler, hustler
Shannon Soeganda Dec 2018
Fine with how you rolled the dice,
Mr. Gambler---
For I, unknowingly
have stopped gambling around with your game.

One day,
you'll sigh of my name
and I won't even bother
recalling your shady game.
Mr. Gambler is such a bothersome. Feeling called upon?
A little girl found a deck of cards
On her daddy's poker table.

She always knew how to make a home
Out of a gambler.

Her hands were steady as they were small
She built a tower, stories tall.
When daddy returned, it never fell.
The boys bet his chips around it.

We built this family with a house of cards
Steady hands and racing hearts.
We built this family with a house of cards.
Queen of hearts, two of cups.

Daddys a fool, played his part
Just half a step into the dark
When A little girl found a deck of cards
Sitting on her mommys altar.

Her hands were steady as they were small
She watched her house of cards grow.
When mommy returned to Tarot.
The cards had found themselves
a different owner.

We built this family with a house of cards
A good read, a bad hand.
We built this family with a house of cards.
The fool, The queen of hearts

The dealer busts, we grow old
A little girl can build a home.
With nothin' but two decks of cards
Shuffled all together
Jalaj Soni Feb 2018
Ghost of my dead saviour, off to haunt my achievements
Spawning, in me, resentment
Maligning my devotion with its indifference

Fiery dragon of the East, off to find contentment
Slaying emotions, with abandonment
Deceived me with its sombre appearance

This dragon has made me dependent
The things that thrilled me, now scare
This dragon has ****** its aegis upon me
Now all I can feel is, a suffocating snare

Angel and the Gambler selling hope, devilishly
Peddling dreams and joy, treacherously
Advertising homes for saints and sinners

Heart runs behind obliterated trust, mindlessly
Being the judge of its desires, heartlessly
No unbelievers in the city of illusions

This Angel has forced me to let my guard down
This Gambler has made me cave
My altar has made me a wrongdoer
My worships vilified by my pain

It is time to Alter the Altar
My take on the process of moving on after heartbreak.
D Holden Jul 2017
A familiar longing from those in the know
An addiction, a want for just another go.
Convincing ourselves of control with
"I could stop whenever I choose".
But return, pretending it's a choice,
and join the queue to once again lose.

This cycle of return is the gambler's curse.
"Just one big win is all I need",
but you have to lose ten times that first.
We know the rules, we know the game;
Something inside though convinces us to  play all the same.

Where to go? What to do to stop?
The way out is cold turkey but easy to do, that's not.
If the cycle doesn't end then relationships will start to break
And that's definitely a losing gamble that would make my heart ache

I need to get better,
I need to break free.
Today is the day I'm going to begin to be me.
I didn't know what to do,
admitting what is wrong tears me apart.
By writing this I've begun my journey,
and made this my fresh start.

I'm coming back here each day.
I will read this reminder to keep me on my way.
he spent in an aim,
in a risk to loose,
in favor of the game,
so gullible to preempt.
..................................
a die hard in hope,
beyond the scale
loves the game,
in power he lives,
a life too risky to touch.
.........................................
playing all his tricks
meet another gambler,
whose stupidity is beyond repair,
but in dismay,
he still looses money.
...........................................
all he does is to learn,
to accept the outcome as always,
hope tomorrow will change him,
and chance,give unending luck,
that shall always grow big,
day after day!
gamblers
Molly Nixon Nov 2015
Don't ask the gambler about where the cards fall,
Not only will he bet against you, he will bet it all.
Steele Nov 2014
Roll the dice and watch them fall.
Whisper words to those waiting, wanting.
Twirl away across the dance floor, taunting
me with those eyes and with that carefree sprawl.

Embrace the lights and let the music flow,
my hands on your hips, your hands on my chest.
The tempo slows and time runs into arrest.
Hold me in your arms, and don't let go.

Sing with me to our favorite song,
the melody of the laughing chase
that ends in an honest, ardent embrace.
Sing with me, dance with me, all night long.

Join with me in the gambler's dance,
You don't need to join with me at the lips,
nor certainly need we join at the hips.
(Though if we did, it wouldn't be remiss)
Just share with me an airborne kiss;
take my hand, take my heart, take a chance.
To that pretty ******* the other side of the dance floor...
Yesterday's lies fell like the cards
from the sleeve of a dying gambler
clutching a pair of deuces to his chest
while kings and aces littered the floor.
He was dealt a decent hand
but played her badly.
When she upped the anti
He should have folded
but foolishly raised the stakes
hoping to call her bluff.
A big mistaken
At the flop he showed his hand.
Claiming honesty as the one-eyed jack
She flushed him out,
but didn't celebrate.
The *** was full of chips
each one shattered from her heart.
mark john junor Aug 2014
a hot number and
you could see the dice smokin
her luck was on fire
life was a flash in the pan sweet
the glory of the hot hand
hounded when its thin
celebrated when its speakin
she walks with a swagger
and clutches the wages of her sin
alone on the pinnacle of power
looking down on the pretty city lights
plunder at her feet
her thoughts turn once again
to the real
how a single turn of the cards
could change it all
how the glory of the hot hand is so fleeting
see the cards turn her to cold stone
plunge her to the depths
but oh god that feeling
the glory of the hot hand

— The End —