A flitter, a flutter, whats a few quid on a bet
the folly broke its leg on that run, better call that final vet
much like the creature that ran its last race
there are certain things in this life that I cannot face

Her high pitched scream of a laugh is almost a squeal
such a pretty face but her mannerisms and depth I cannot deal
I laughed, tagged along, at first it all seemed so great
but it ends up so weary, solemn yet teary, its day has had its final fate

She had her ups, I had my downs, to be away was my final curtain
had to leave the house, crept to the bookies like a sneaky woodlouse, that divorce was almost certain
but I prefer a bet to her hair, and to always be there, hold the phone, there's a tip at the 3:30 in Ripon
my friends said I must be mad, to leave that beauty, oh so bad, well yes, I must be bloody trippin

But that's life i'm afraid, we all have plans that must be laid, some leading wholly in the wrong direction
she's with some other man now, almost the size of a baby cow, I'm sure their bubba will be perfection

So the bookies it still calls, if its horses to Saturdays goals, those dice will always for me be thrown
for it is what it is, a life as a quiz, what will tomorrow bring, as it really is,

nobody's fault but my own

Eat your betting money but don't bet your eating money - Anon

The best throw of the dice is to throw them away. –Unknown

The safest way to double your money is to fold it over once and put it in your pocket. –Kin Hubbard

A gambler never makes the same mistake twice. It's usually three or more times. –Terrence "VP Pappy" Murphy

I love blackjack. But I'm not addicted to gambling. I'm addicted to sitting in a semi-circle. –Mitch Hedberg (1968-2005)

You know, horses are smarter than people. You never heard of a horse going broke betting on people. –Will Rogers
Annett 6d
I walked alone at midnight, picking berries off of trees.
I tried to stay along my path but found I strayed too easily.
The woods were solemn and silent, not even breaking for a breeze,
Yet as the path disappeared from sight, I moved with further ease.
Warm trickled down my arms till it filled myself completely.
A strange whisper tickled my ears, anxious to greet me.
A melody danced along the trees, low and warning, high and sweet-
Till I broke a clearing expecting there to meet.
But nothing, no one was around, the song drifting to faded sounds,
I veered center and to the shock of me, I gazed rather awed at a conspicuous faerie ring.
Mushrooms stood innocent enough, and though I feigned indifference, it did unsettle me.
The Old one's stories sprang to mind, my discomfort setting deep.
Nothing but tales to scare children, my thoughts begged to assure,
Yet as starlight broke upon the ring it tugged with vast allure.
I disregarded child's tales and neared tword ring,
But as my toes touched inside, ice shot through me viciously.
Were once my arms were warmed, they lay slack and cold, the warning ringing clearly.
Whatever left the ring so serene and open, it never meant for human eyes to see.
This is a long one. Hope everything got spelled right. If not, it was only to be expected.
Annett 4d
I think I've changed somehow.
I know it happens, it's rather inevitable but how odd to happen now.
I used to write of dreary thoughts,
And unkind things.
My eyes could not see stars, because the clouds could never leave.
And though I still feel those things they no longer can define me.
I've shed that skin, that broken skin,
A built myself a galaxy.
I suppose it happend that night, our eyes swollen from tears gone dry.
You began to hum a solemn tune,
And I drowned in that sadness, relished in it almost.
How pitiful,
How terrible.
How deceivingly unbearable.
I could not look to you anymore,
So I chose to look up-
And there it was.
A smaller light,
Shining pale against the night,
I looked to it and suddenly,
A different tune began to sing.
Not a chorus, not a moment,
A subtle beat of a changing heart.
I took your face in my hands, and dried those deep oak eyes,
Maybe we could be happy, and maybe it would be alright.
So I wrote myself the star.
I sped my pencil sloppily,
Recounting starlight like a fading dream,
And took you along with me.
Slowly, the sky expanded,
So I drove us to a hidden grove.
And pulled your hand, come with me.
But I knew still you couldn't see.
You stared blankly at an eternal sky,
Heavens stretching before your eyes,
Seeing nothing, but to whose surprise?
I could not rush a trodden soul,
But I could no longer stand it.
Fighting ever familiar tears,
I held you tight and whispered good bye.
But in the place of once connected two,
Were to separate people, You and I.
I continued writing stars but they reached another tone,
I filled my words with guilt and longing, wondering if you were still alone.
Three days.
Soon enough years.
'I write myself the stars,'
It does feel a bit untrue,
For I know that in each moment, I write them all for you.
I'm not saying writing about sadness is bad, in fact I think it's healthy. But for me I find it more freeing to write dreamily, because, as some may have guessed, I am not talking of normal sadness. Perhaps there's a double meaning. Or maybe not.

— The End —