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Best Games Poems

Below are the all-time best Games poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of games poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Games Poem |

Lost in Youth

Lost in Youth

Rainbows in the clouds, walking on  railroad tracks , locomotives up close 
Kickball games , I am left footed, spooky reflections in a mirror, running naked 
Wooden desks and chairs, kids in the classroom , the little girl across the street 
Black and white T.V., Air conditioning , a new blue car, exhaust  fumes
The farm, coal fired furnace , warm heating ducts 
a collie , a cocker spaniel and a horse named Thunder
Dark starry nights , telescopes , comets and satellites
Northern winters, snow covered fields ,sledding, frozen lakes , and Orion 
Camping in fields , mosquitoes bites , quiet dawns and heavy morning  dew,  
Grandparents ,riding  lawn mowers , apple trees , flower and vegetable gardens
 Southern Summers , warm muggy nights , ceiling  fans ,open screened windows
Screened in porches, ancient toys, , tiny  transistor radios, baseball games  talking late into the night 
Badminton , side lawns , and long rides home
Public pools , icy waters and underwater swims 
Trombone , marching band and high school football games
Sleepy classes, friends , lunchroom games, and girls 
High school graduation , college and final goodbyes


Details | Games Poem |

Another man's Clothes

The idea behind this poem came from reading a poem of the same title, written by Richard “Canadian Man-god” Lamoureux. Now, his poem went in an entirely powerful, yet other, direction than I thought it was going to go. I happily let him know that. So, he decided to have me touch upon where I thought he was going with his poem. 

Some people really need to be careful what they ask for… ;-) 

On an 8pm, Louisiana dream

Tastes of nocturnal, July humidity
Succumbs flagrant passions 
With moistened grip, they tease

Coltrane whispers annihilate tense exhales
Under concave moon

She threw Mr. So and So onto Pacific Ocean’s waterbed
As if she was a professional baseball pitcher
Down
The
Middle

His exuberance would shatter sound’s tattered walls.

Slow grinds
Chemical reactionary bliss
Similar to Neutron bombs
Minus the consequences

Her tailored skin
Ready for gripped, enigmatic resolutions

But, first,
She had to “freshen up”

“You’re already being fresh, don’t stop on my account”,
He says with Monday mourning frustration

As cedar scented bathroom door shuts with determined patience,
And running water with a mix of Celine Dion hums from her trained throat
He stands to gather his thoughts…

…until his eyes exit stage right towards her opened travel bag

A pair of satin boxers & edible, Cotton Candy hand-cuffs from Target
With a signed, perfumed gift tag,
“Can’t wait for tomorrow, Mr. Such and Such,
-Love, your Hedonistic dream”

As running water came to serenity’s halt,
She exited restroom with shedding curves.

Her strut became dislocated,
As she stared into his trembling pupils
Wiping the cotton coating from his lips

“Too bad you couldn’t chew your way out of this one”,
The other half of the handcuffs smeared in cursive signature
Against yellow-gold gift tag he hands her with unedited closure

With striking slams against Louisiana hotel door
Parallel to Mother Nature’s thunderous clap

He exits stage left
Giving almost-lover
A proverbial slap

©Drake J. Eszes


Details | Games Poem |

Roll'em

One wake-up away
From the best day of your life.
Life’s just a crapshoot. 


Details | Games Poem |

Speak Of Real Bliss

I stopped combing my heart
So my feelings could lock up
And I’d be able to speak of real bliss
Then wrap my love around how unlike
The others you drew no boundaries
But still you knew who you want
And I didn’t have to pull any stunts
Or play these games 
That we all play when the days
Turn to night and her smile
Shines so bright

I’m enamoured 
Losing all my power
But I don’t need this
Lie to steal this kiss
And I don’t have to lie 
Or invent moments that
Speak of real bliss 
Or wish that she was another
Cause she’s the other
I wished they all were

The games I used to stir
My pot of lies
And tries to be the man
I’m not ready to be
You had the foresight to see
That soon I’ll be the man
Who speaks of real bliss
And wants to give you kids
Living the best life  
You’ll ever know
We’ll grow together

Maybe even old
A weathered couple 
Reminiscing about that Tuesday night
We had our last first kiss
The night I learned how
To speak of real bliss.


Details | Games Poem |

The Hunger Games-Poem

Enter the arena
Buckle down


Ready?
Set?
Kill!

A gong sounds
We're off

The Hunger Games have begun!

Blades of swords and knives crash
Arrows whizzing.

Run. run, run
Away from the cornacopia!

Blood splatters, staining the earth
Bodies splayed on the ground

Some survive
Others die right off hand

Only one left to be the VICTOR!
Welcome to The Hunger Games!!!!

This is based on a very good book called The Hunger Games (well good in my 
opinion). This future distopian science-fiction novel is about future North America. 
The Capitol is a very dictator-like establishment and starve their citizens then throw 
them into the hunger games, a fight to the death on live television.


Details | Games Poem |

The Game

My life has been one enormous charade,
A make believe game,
A play I have played, 
A story I tell myself, day and night,
Hidden from myself, out of sight,
A game of hide and seek,
While searching for something else to eat.

The game,
A cosmic game,
A comic game,
A bad joke,
A puff of smoke,
A laugh,
A bath,
A lonely path,
The Game.

I used to take it so seriously,
Think it, feel it so real, so perfectly,

So certain I that was right,
That I lived in the light,
So convinced that I knew the rules,
So obvious I had all the tools,
That I saw the truth, 
That I saw the light,
Would win the battle, win the fight.


Heard the sound of the distant drum,
Calling me to battle with the devious one.
The walls of my ego were high and mighty,
My dreams and delusions danced in front of me,
Their smooth dark surface impossible to climb,
Images I swallowed and thought were mine.


I made them alive, moving and real,
Twist and turn like a slimy eel,
Just to tell myself that I was still someone,
Playing in the game and having lots of fun,
Just to tell me and to tell you,
That I wasn't a loser,
So I wouldn’t hear the words game over.


Game over,
Check and mate,
Here's the gate,
You have to take,
Out of the Game,
The game of shame.


The game of avoiding being blue,
Of dogging the bullets they shot at you,
The atomic bomb they drop on your head,
The monsters that they put under your bed.


The game of hiding away,
Live to play another day,
Even if it's only make believe,
The prizes in plastic,
And not worth a dime,
At least I have the impression that they are mine,
At least I don't fell the pain,
The pain of shame,
In this perverted game.


So that I don't feel I'm a prisoner,
Tied to this post,
Don't even realise that I'm only a ghost,
That the truth is well hidden,
On the board of the game.

That the prizes are in plastic,
But they are shiny and new,
The paint hardly chipped,
The emptiness hardly shows through,
The laughing is loud,
The smiles are all warm and friendly,
And we are all together,
Joyful and happy.


The illusion is REAL,
And only the mad man knows,
That it's a rotten deal.

more of my poems at http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Games Poem |

The Games We Played

We pace the stone streets now, groping beneath the woolly underbelly
Of the mildewed memories, dried by age, wrung silly,
But they trickle back, malicious memories, bitter-sweet,
of a long time ago, of the old house by the banyan tree.

We searched for hidden secrets in the countless bolts-
the rusty knobs tasted blood-like and knife-cold-
on our patchy kitten tongues, and gooseberry noses.
Iron projections, remember? we leaned against them,
they wobbled against our protruding spines
our faces discovered new expressions
opening, closing, flickering, winking or slow widening-
the dance of summons, the promiscuous eyes play.

Our pantomime childhood, of make-believe-
now we ponder over it and wish, if only;
Too late, the clay has set into the mould.
But it could never have been, too well we know.
We were precocious, cunning and amorous.
Our eyes were never unclouded, but shrouded by the weight-
of knowledge we stumbled upon too early, oh how well we hid it,
with our brown shiny faces, and the melting baby smiles, my love.

We shared marbles, stolen chalks and heartbeats,
and longed for the 5 ‘o’ clock cartoons
As much as we craved for each other.
Remember the awed caresses, the terrifying-
responses we contained, the sighs, so bizarrely grown-up.
The too-short holidays we locked ourselves in my room,
built bed-sheet tents, played Eskimos, slipped in a touch-
biscuit-crumb mouths sought the bony arms.
You became the doctor, I your willing corpse,
laid out for a delicious autopsy, your fingers already maestros,
played my harp, my lute my tremulous taut drum.
You found new roads, uncharted territories running,
wildly into peaks, plains and molten volcanoes in me.

We smelt the ripe watermelon in each other,
the saliva on our breath, the edges of our bitten nails.
We were furry blind caterpillars blindly writhing our way
under the leafy shadows, crushing grapes between molars
spitting questions and seeds into the creamy air and giggling.

Years later we nibbled seedless grapes and mused
on the too white napkins, distracted by the music
the icy lucidity of the cocktails and our own detachment.
Soon we were imprisoned inside chrysalises
near-identical caterpillar bodies became more and more different
the curse of the forbidden fruit which we tasted too early,
 now too awkward to forget-
pierced into our flesh now rigid,
 rotting coconuts-
drifting down the endless river,
you there, me here-
only the skeleton of that insanity
 rattling against to our shells.


Details | Games Poem |

The Jungle Gym

Jungle Jim is rather grim
And now is old and gray
He misses the activity
Of children hard at play
The children grew
Made new friends too
And eventually moved away
Now his time has past
He's failing fast
And falls into decay


Details | Games Poem |

acceptance

   Who's that staring through my window walls, with eyes as old as time
the clock has not yet moved and the wind outside has died
no breath for me to find nor the strength to check the time
unless the minute hand is lying theirs a chance i may have died
I wish this all a dream but the eyes i see dont lie, they have told me with their watching that all men do really cry
yet in vain is all my wishing but perhaps this is delusion of a sedimentary man with his mind ripe for losing 
Come at me then red devil, I shout within my mind yet the tension I had hoped for was delayed and rather dry
no ravishingly velvet flame encircled this such room, nor were the furniture and ottoman  thrown like an old shoe
marvelous the time in which a demon throwns your home and his only one intent is to stare right through your soul
 to that i bid goodnight to you, to do as you wish, regardless of the manner I am nothing more then fish. to be shot out of a barrel for a fellow such as this
If you do deem it fit that I wake another morning all i ask is that the clocks all please return to working order


Details | Games Poem |

Teach Your Children Well

Children learn by the games they play
the games you teach them to control
They watch your eyes, they watch your smile
your opinions take a heavy toll.

Do you teach them to run and jump high
or lead them into a darkened room.
Do you give them guns and sword play
or send them outside to grow and bloom.

Have you explained the hurt, and the pain
which comes from the letting of blood
or glorified taking of sides
and bleeding victims crushed in the mud.

Two dimensional deeds plant red seeds
in the fertile fields of growing minds.



*title credit to Crosbey Stills and Nash


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