"gambles" poems
Gates give galloping giraffes
gin gum
gifted ghost
Goofy gambles ginger beer
grapple games get goods
Gooses groins getcha
group gathering greatness
goat got gale
Grail
Apr 16, 2010
Apr 16, 2010 at 4:30 PM UTC
*From day one,
I warned you of my heat.
Why haven’t you learned
don’t play with me,
if you can’t take the heat.
The cards are on the table son,
pick your game,
but be careful my friend,
for the devil already won.
Have you ever danced with the devil
in the pale moonlight?
His violan bayed at the moon,
as the devil danced with the shadows
on the street.
He gambles with your soul,
he makes you move your feet.
Don’t dance with the devil,
unless you can handle the heat.
© By Amanda D Shelton
*
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 3:37 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
When Trump and Carson fall
And the foolishness ceases
Rubio will be there
To pick up the pieces
He’s salivating
As his chance increases
He’s now looking at curtains
And White House leases
When Trump and Carson fall
And the race is in shambles
He’ll bet his house
You see. The man gambles
He’s not alone
Cuz there’s many other examples
Of men who’ve picked up swatches
And other samples
When Trump and Carson fall
And they look towards the rest
Rubio’s convinced
That he alone is the best
In fact he’s thinking
Nevertheless
It will be him and not the others
There’s no contest
When Trump and Carson fall
As inevitably they must
And Marco Rubio watches the others
Bite the dust
As they complain
Then spit and cuss
Marco will be the one
To lead the rest of us
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC
Scarborough circa 1989
Jacqui in the night of the instant sunrise
Raises the morning on her shoulders
Swelling between tears and laughter
She melts words into meaning
and gambles on intuition and power
Jacqui in the night of the instant sunrise
looking back and looking forward
finds the dawn most appealing
and issues commands and warnings
to all those with the inner strength to heed them
Jacqui in the night of the instant sunrise
smiles, and the strength of metal
and the purest of beauty
are forged anew
Into the eyes of this miraculous woman
I enter a new beginning
where wisdom lives, and moves, behind her horizons
Jacqui in the night of the instant sunrise
becomes the centre
where all truths are issued passage
and all lies are refused
Jacqui in the night of the instant sunrise
blends courage and compassion
into hues of fine precision
and automatic weapons
Jacqui in the night of the instant sunrise
spreads warmth like a familiar blanket
and moves the day by her power
just as it moves her.
James H. Webb
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Let the Dealer take to his Gambles spend
Such that his Boots would limit to arcade
Which two-fold bets cast odds on top descend
And his Service strikes without much delay
I meant the Italian you happened to wear
And strip for Happy Golgotha delight
You wanted Admirers in Cheerful bear
Then their Smiles came true for their ****** Sight
After all, Talk Show's a Norm-for-the-Woos
Which indeed supplements the Popular
Which you desired; And asked you turn loose
To be one of those Studs Spectacular.
Happy for you. Since your own Flesh at stake
As you are now Ripe; Your Best Rind you make.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
When the Sogdian king, lost his son
Across the river, hands in hands with step mom
Step mom told the king:
"Big cat fish ate him! King"
Crying to death
Regreting his wealth
No food many days
Tried many ways
Calling out for guards
Searching every yards
Paying the temples
Ignoring gambles
Bending to his knee
Praying to the sea
Asking for a sign
Hope to see a line
Old monk saw him sick
Told him: "go and pick
Best fishing hooks there
Try to saile the river
Find the Big Cat Fish
Get him to a dish
Cut his stomach
Imagine it's cake"
After all of it
Cat fish escaped it
Turning around the boat
Calling out : "You Goat!
You're wife killed your kid
So **** her! Indeed!"
King was deadly shocked
No mercy of God
Rage was his weapon
To **** this dragon....
" wish I was no king
Could have my son under my wing"
That's what Said the king.....
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
i'm sick to death of this stinking routine
perpetual day time TV,
petty bickering
afternoon pub binges
hopeless job hunting morons everywhere,
i return to my hometown
to the place i was made, molded
created
and it suffocates me like never before
i think of the many reasons i left
they circle my thoughts for a long while
and then i'm left with one
one that overrides the lot
it takes a while to spit it out
because it's corny, it's stupid, it's not how we work
but
it's love
and the lack of it
the love here is in the mundane
the easy,
the norm.
it's not in the heart
the love around here lies in
television sets
and pirate DVDs
reduced chicken and new coffee machines
gambles on abused horses
saturday afternoons in the local
cheap holidays to Benidorm
a day trip to lidl
a weekday evening watching the soaps
a phonecall to a family member you don't care about
hours playing candy crush
the love has lost on us humans
the love here, it was lost on me too
it missed me out
they missed me out
it has instead transferred in this
reality tv, selfie indulgent zeitgeist
it has left our silly bodies
and i'm still clinging on
trying to dissapear from that
new century bubble
trying to pick up pieces
of that porcelain mosaic
that old style bric a brac
so long ago forgotten
pressure is everywhere
notifications beep
this tiny block of perspex
waiting to be touched
waiting to be in communication
with someone at the other side of the city
the other side of the world
oh what a sad existence
when all we love is through the inanimate
and not ourselves
but hey thats the way of the world
and we have to accept it
or hate it
because we can't do both
we have to accept our fast paced tumultuous society
always moving through space and time
at times, difficult
painful
hard
sore
but consumerism, capitalism and cronyism
it all exists in this big society
this 'we're all in it together' society
and it cant be ignored.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 5:02 PM UTC
To start --
being an adolescent with autumn eyes,
seeking a prophecy for long-standing bravery
to further the spinning spokes for minutes, five more,
I burned the drapes to reveal a humanity only I could see.
The expectations were elaborately existing, unsatisfying. Sons
and fathers, years refrained from matters
that reverse reverse reverse curses and maturity
without purpose.
Those idle accepted neglect, and the existence of an
unsalted bridge was quickly detained. Alone, the foolish described
to search for the future in geometric formation and coffee ring
stains fading the desk.
But the sense proposed in my decided equality drank dignity
straight from the bottle. The road that lead me between two cliffs,
Propriety and Statistics, with the rocks already pelting down,
could not diminish my enthusiasm for necessary absurdities.
There's no flesh in declared mediocrities.
I became a luminary for pleasures of eminence, hope with resolve,
opportunities in destiny. Blind gambles obliged the fear of exacting
sensibility. Passionate follies created no-regret-consequences,
satisfied stability. Only the **** are granted victories in eternal gaiety.
Mortality is irrelevant if you let mystery be your urgency.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 3:53 PM UTC
Check - work nine-to-five, eat, sleep, draw again.
Surviving the day, nothing more, c'est bien.
Or call - easy choice for the hand you were dealt.
Just settle for average; win, lose; both unfelt.
If you need to, just quit; to accept it, just fold.
Be resigned to your fate; easy just isn't bold.
If not, you might lose; see pain, heartbreak, and death.
Bracing for blows that will knock out your breath.
So you didn't call a bluff, didn't sees players who cheat?
Or they raised you too much, now you're feeling the heat.
And life may be a ***** she deals hands unfair.
She's the muscle who beats you; detached, doesn't care.
But here's the kicker, dear life's only tell -
There's so much more out there; fight right to the bell!
'Cuz quitting the game after one bad beat?
You'd risk every win, for fear of defeat?
Not even one pair? Means no partner for life?
No falling in love, no taking the dive.
I guess if you're scared, that's a dangerous risk
Probably not worth the bet.
No three of a kind? No partners in crime?
No best friends for life, no slowing down time?
I guess that you're busy, with your job, for your cheque.
Probably not worth the bet.
And no full house? Means no family to kiss...
No building your future, no dogs, and no kids?
I guess it's hard work to lay down those bricks;
Probably not worth the bet.
No royal flush? No laughter, no tears?
No joy and no sorrow, no fun and no fears?
I guess if the bad scares you more than the good,
Probably not worth the bet.
For you, at least, that all may be fact.
You'll hold back your gambles, buy-in if you're backed.
You save up your chips for just the right hand,
And don't see that they are all equally grand.
For life may be cruel, but she gives loans for chips,
So keep playing the game until your luck flips.
So, me? Hit me, life. I'll stick out my chin.
In this game we're playing?
Hell, I'm all in.
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 9:14 AM UTC
Clamp the red march onward!
Cut the winding trench!
Mask a visage for protection
from the visceral drench.
Light the forge in battle!
Keep the battlefield alive.
Hear the laborious drumbeat
of a heart trying to survive.
Stainless steel and knowledge
in the forge are fired
Gone are human needs -
Death is never tired.
On each second rests a lifespan.
Each minute gambles years.
A surgeon only has two hands
and no mortal fears.
The battle surges forward
as blood is forced right back
from the heart it came from;
a heart still under attack.
Even as the battle ended,
with blood, tears and sweat,
the war raged ever onward,
Death remains a threat.
Every day a battle.
Every life a war.
Against Death and the ethereal
survival is the score.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 7:38 AM UTC
*Countless imaginations intrigued,
by words pouring truth and honesty.
The beauty in a picture painted...
Only tired yet wilful eyes will get to see...
Scars of a battle surfacing.
Like dreams clouded by storms.
Willingness to face another fight.
Only deafened yet persistent ears will listen for a new melody.*
***Strings of gambles played...
Blind faith committed into hapless
deals of cards.
Looking for the win amongst a sea of losses.
Only weary yet perservering hands will find the missing shards.***
*Obstacles portrayed,
as struggles form and hope seems to crumble.
An almost misplaced determination,
tattooed in these hands.
Only apprehensive yet courageous legs will continue to trudge forward.*
***The heaviest blows...
Inflicted on the frailest bodies.
Taking the brunt of such callous words.
Only the battered yet ernest mind will prevail sheer follies.
Deep laboured breaths...
Wheezing through seemingly punctured lungs.
Seeking a steady rhythm amidst internal chaos.
Only the worn yet steadfast heart will escape unscathed from bitter tongues.***
rinnette
ryn
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
From a cold Shoulder,
Sharp honed Tongues speak barbed with a silent whisper,
Emptiness under fine silks and cosmetic canvas,
This chosen heard gambles in the dreamy bliss,
Illusion of choice saves the Shepherd staff from the dirt,
Living in this fishbowl where the fish act like sharks,
Lured by the shining bait of glitter,
Already we know,all that glitters............
Learn quick what fish act the same in a rising net,
Lose time for those eat the others.
Good evening ladies and gentle men!
Step right up....step right up and marvel at its reflected glory,
See how it glows when the sly dizziness covers the vista.
Who dare goes where the great unwashed go?
Gaze in amazement as the crock self exaltation simmers.
Try see like the blind.
Know that when she sings you wont be ready,
Hold reserve and smile as she fades back into the soft flowing tide.
Become accustomed to her song,
Like a well fed dog lying in the sun, problems are forced into small spaces
and nudged into open water
Shadows become old friends with familiar voices,
The odor of the Summer Sun wafts by,
Even if you hide in the Winter cold,
The Trees do the dance of spring,
She dines feasting on the edible Star Drops
He is happy melting at the thought of nothing
They all toast the Cosmos as it waves back.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
truth, what is truth now? what,when,where,how?
The truth is what is actually happening now,
What is love? Pairing up like two doves?
Or fitting together perfectly, two hands, same glove?
What is light? gives life and shines bright, gives sight?
What is fear? The feeling u get near the unclear?
What is pain? When ur body in vain?
Or when ur soul is in a strain? mind hit with a train?
What is sadness? when a loved ones life is in madness?
Or when ur own life is in shambles? from internal gambles? Argumentative dark rambles?
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 3:01 PM UTC
The army brat has come back
He whistles a whirling tune
And speaks of charms and amulets
He gambles and always wins somehow
You can now tell he's feeling free
Hiding behind witty sarcasm
He couldn't care less
Let's agree to disagree
And understand that we have a misunderstanding
The ornament doesn't care much about her appearance
Just about her performance on the playing field
She rides her boards goofy-footed
Always making plans with Mary Jane
Building Rube Goldberg Machines
Cleaning up after Pavlov's dogs
Let's agree to disagree
And understand that we have a misunderstanding
They can't get out of their own way
Brushed hair, combed teeth with two different shoes on
Suffering from ADD
But demand perfection
Refuse to bend or break
Don't let them latch on and bring you down with them
Let's agree to disagree
And understand that we have a misunderstanding
We're flip-flop-waffle-minded people
Who can't make heads or tails of signs and labels
Who are aware of the bad blood between some
Unintentionally manipulating and deceiving one another
We're on the third pitch, let's not miss it
But even if we do, we look good doing it in style
When we make exclusive appearances
Let's agree to disagree
And understand that we have a misunderstanding
-Tommy Johnson
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
what is to be of a wasted life of spent breath to vent the concepts unkempt to the context of the plight?
It could really be alright, as we dance the night away, and play house on a world scale, a snails pace on the trails of progress.
Yet to digress to a better man with a plan and a project to reach naivety, in elementary innocence never completely lost.
We are the boss of our own reflections.
Gluing together the inter-sections divided of the perfections embossed in loss-less injections upon your ghost.
Host to your congregation of one.
One day to become
Become the son of the day
Days encased of night
Nights blathering beautifully in the love songs of lonely poets united beneath the stars of afar in unprompted kindness that spread like a virus inside us, and opened the eyes of babes with the dice of slaves freed on self gambles, leaving dread in the shambles of yesterday's imagination.
Be emptied everything.
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 3:20 AM UTC
I am known to have several hobbies,
as I also have significant prowess in each.
Because in anything that I do
and whatever I want to try,
I always do it naturally and good
just like a bird taking flight.
When it comes to new interests,
I am simply the best student.
I learn and plan carefully with method
and execute flawlessly with madness.
Calling and pulling down rain like a God,
I water my passions like lilies in the garden.
When it comes to new knowledge,
I am a servant yet the queen of this village.
A newcomer gangster who rules the streets,
I am feared in every turn and corner.
Yet an overqualified maiden on the sheets,
I am tenderly adored and kissed better.
When learning about new languages,
I dedicate it only for the arts and letters.
Speak foreign words like it's teenage love,
I've sworn this is only on paper, not my lips.
Sing fluently like my head with heels above,
I swallow my pride and swing my hips.
When talking about arbitraries and goals,
I am never not in the know from the get-go.
I am an angel who sets and builds the stage,
when I show up, nobody feels the breeze.
Yet I am the devil that gambles and trades,
in my refusal everybody finds their release.
Jul 10, 2022
Jul 10, 2022 at 6:03 AM UTC
He makes a wide ring around my feet, as
if him tied to me
or me tied to it - moving me over
the polished grass, taking my mind away
from its machinery;
his urgency is mine for a time, mellow
violent arcs within arcs, splintering
between fork tail and mate, deciding which mood
their pattern will make, finally the image of dance
ends, where the world is carried further
by the replicants of their colour
on the hand of skin,
between thumb, and fore finger
tapping a key board with one speaker
in the best room the dusk can buy,
the sonata shuts off,
eyes made of oil passing over the brim,
shivering with innate worlds smashing on a plate
unslaved gambles and flushing light,
suns night colouring thought in endless epigram,
letting the conduits and candles melt down,
into the folding pool, to journey out
wolves storming bones with silk, and
silence, passion without conscience,
a planet seducing the hive, so acutely mad
that, until it stops to roll the bread in its hands
letting its animals eat
and love first
it cannot grow
a swallow followed me back, the village gathers
into concrete ***** of feral child scream,
and the weeds burst through the concrete, not knowing
that heavens humour mocks everything below,
the local news, the national news, and any news,
make your atoms ache if they join hands for too long
but later
we form one walk,
where our feet whip the path
and signal to the storm with the gestures of our own
that we make in confidence;
turning the lights on,
where they are not,
buying the last tickets
to the last opera, and letting it sing
purging the stage,
and letting us dance up;
feeding the sky
as our joy tells the rest,
it can just wait,
for today.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 8:13 AM UTC
Into a spiral of words, we go once more
Into the head of a madman;
On the contrary, he is self-proclaimed,
None proves he is a madman, after all.
He sets his machine ablaze,
Sculpting words upon his hundred epitaphs,
Exclaiming he'll end his hell today,
And rise again, tomorrow.
He is but a tinker of words,
He is but a feeble being;
Unable to voice the change he desires,
Unable to converge in the norms.
His machine seems rusted,
Rusted, but not broken;
Spewing out nonsense in disguise,
Molding empty grandeur.
It is not his machine that needs repairs,
It is the Tinker who seeks soothe.
He toils upon his machine,
Only to find that none is wrong;
It still basked in ivory and gold,
It still made what it does.
Yet, why does the Tinker feel such incompleteness?
All was vague, until it, came;
It had a smile that rivaled the sunrise,
It gave the Tinker the eyes to see the truth,
It showed him the light, and umbra of life.
It guided the Tinker to the stars;
It made the Tinker feel new again.
Together, they tinkered the machine once more,
And together, they saw the marvel before their very eyes;
They were truly, a cog and a catalyst.
Yet all is not forever.
It vanished without a trace.
It left the Tinker lost.
With its departure,
It left wake of the darkness in his heart.
His eyes grew dimmer,
He saw his masterpiece again, as a loss,
A failure.
The Tinker left death to feed upon his happiness,
The Tinker felt incompleteness once more;
He gambled for it to stay,
Yet all gambles fail in the end.
Yet the Tinker never knew,
It never left him.
The Tinker was made a fool over nothing;
Art lest, just offer nonsense, in love's yonder.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:32 AM UTC
Look at where you are now,
look at what's become of you.
I'm so sorry that you have turned to pieces and dust.
All from letting your protective coat down,
from people who mistreated you.
The sad truth is,
that you're just the image of me,
how I feel inside.
Broken porcelain doll,
Broken porcelain doll,
who once was so beautiful,
but has fallen into so many wrong hands.
Hands that keep on breaking promises,
and those broken promises is what destroyed you.
Now that you're broken into pieces and dust,
we play a game,
a game that gambles this so called 'fate'.
Let it decide, for you to be thrown away,
or for you to be created into a new.
It's so unfortunate,
how many cruel people exist.
Due to their own experiences and choices they make;
from hurt, loss of values, corruptions and influences.
Yet, knowing the way they are,
they have the nerve to 'keep a promise'.
They think they can keep one,
though of eventually, it's forgotten.
Those are one of the things that made you fell apart.
These broken promises breaks you into pieces.
Sadly those people still exist.
They fend on the fragile creatures like you,
on the moment it's in their sight,
to keep breaking them all apart.
That's what makes them satisfied.
Sorry I went blind for a while,
poor you.
Maybe it wasn't meant to be.
For you to be created in this world,
that's filled with heartless souls.
So rest now,
you warn out, faded broken doll,
and just gamble with 'fate'.
Just waiting what'll decide.
I'm sorry,
I couldn't make you solid, no more.
For now, I'll gently caress whatever's left from you.
Broken pieces of porcelain, dust, and materials from your clothes.
The least we can do
is wish for the best to happen to you;
To be created into a new.
You never deserve this my inner-self.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 1:55 AM UTC
As the wizard traps his fairy in his enchanting
crystal ball
The wolf draws back to serenity neith the
luminous waterfall
The magic unicorn cuddles with the forbidden
persian cat
And the majestic lion gambles with the savage
loyal rat
I listen to the harps peaceful melody of the sky
Played on her pastel rainbow as she swiftly
flys on by
The mighty tigers watchful eyes
Glare at the lightnings slow demise
The dolphins play with the bubbles of the sea
This mystical place of harmony, found inside of me!
© Crystal Erickson
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
Things come and go.
Like people I suppose.
We play games to pass the time.
Roll dice on gambles.
Take chances with our lives.
Only there is no collecting when coming full circle.
That's called a mistake.
So we jump to other boards.
Hoping we aren't sorry.
Realizing there is no perfection.
Trying to balance every risk.
Like we ever had a clue.
Some try so hard.
While others scoff at effort.
What is the right combo that will lead to the end game.
It's like an ever changing rubix cube.
So many patterns to memorize.
But doing the same thing.
Over.
And over.
Is that living.
Or insanity.
Whatever it's called.
One thing is certain.
We shall never get bored.
Playing with our demons.
Aug 9, 2021
Aug 9, 2021 at 8:41 PM UTC
I beg you to stop sleepwalking in my dreams!
Your once unfamiliar face keeps on popping up like a surprise.
I tried to shove your ghost into the darkness,
into the abyss of my subconsciousness
but you keep on escaping with the ladder my heart made.
I vowed not to ever think of you again -
to make you a stranger once more.
But the heart is cruel,
It plays and gambles
until I lose to it.
This heart is very cruel indeed.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
There is a beat, where the rhythm of questionable origins pulsates throughout the uncertainty of our lost generation.
Insects which crawl into the darkness flamboyantly portray the message of Liverpudlian honesty,
Whilst desolate railway arches echo the sound of destination in the face of bewilderment and a heightened awareness of loss.
Oh, to be found in the midst of the brickwork tunnels of death!
I remember how the sticky leads of the ECG scan and my declarations of abstinence merely resulted in intravenous gambles with the reaper of the ancient abyss.
So, I urge you to burn incense, my friend of forgotten rock festivals, whilst I seek to connect with your vein.
You are a lifetime away, yet you are ever present.
Thank you, for sitting with me in my hour of death and for your Isle of Wight being.
The price of MD 20/20 will be etched on my heart forever.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 1:50 AM UTC
There's a nemesis on the premises
watching through the crevices of my hellishness
watching the precious homage paid to my delicate testaments of corruption and bitterness
yet to know observation is venomous if hesitant
the evidence is irrelevant while you wait on a settlement of peace from a benevolent king
back stabbing sentiments have no precedence over the decaying elements of my eloquence
not one finger can touch the decadence of my mental inhabitants
with whispers of shadows within their em-battlements
some go celibate from the spiritual experiments
in villainous line scrimages
consumed
with images of pillaged villages
baffled
in the battle to dismantle the soul scandals
manhandling rambles through foolish gambles
we each blow out our own candles
Left for dead
Strangled
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 10:42 PM UTC
A message to the lady with eyes reminiscent of the last moments of sunlight,
where words cannot describe that, that,
that everlasting beauty of the miracle of existence.
With the fading light (if light could fade) comes a bending of light
and that light gives life to me.
A message to a love that is not so,
I speak of you so much because that is my only way that keeps us together,
your name on my lips is the only thing of love we have.
Forgive me, forgive me, or do not,
but do not believe me a liar.
A message to the lady with the lover from a boy with a lover,
I do not feel bad for loving you as I another.
As the chess player feels no guilt of wanting a game of gambles,
or the swimmer a chance to run,
I feel no guilt over wanting to take my risks and take my laps with you.
A message to the woman with hair soft as air and browned like the gentle oak core,
I only want a few brief moments of existence.
I only want to share myself with you, and you with me,
and we can finally coalesce into something greater than ourselves.
A message to the god whom I shared only a few sentences with,
that is all I needed from you,
and all I will get.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC