Best Poker Game Poems
Declared debris? ... O' woe is me!
I am a just a chubby club of three..
Beyond the two, ... before the four
Not the card I hoped to be
If I could choose, I'd be much more!
I’d wear a crown, and be the king
But, what the heck….the deck is stacked!
A crying shame…to have a name
that holds no pride, and sad effect
is that I hold no claim to fame!
Even twos get twice the fame!
Just plain ole’ me..
Not five, not eight, not nine, not ten,
I’m hardly worth a chip to bet
Just a three of clubs…and chubby too
A chubby club! Oh! Woe is me! …
A plain old three of clubs I am
And I get snubbed, at poker games
No one really cares for me
They toss me in among the crowd
Of royalty and joker smiles
Ace defends his rightful place
Dueces often party wild!
I shuffle in, in lower case
Get pushed around the dealer’s place
Those sevens poke their hearts and spades
Into my face! It's a disgrace!
A racist bunch! … Why must it be?
The diamonds sparkle in the light
Those snobby queens don’t flirt with me
The hearts, in fact, get all the love
Old Jack, the leader of the pack
hangs out with only rowdy spades
The odds are stacked against my name
Even when I’m old and gray
I will shuffle in, worn, bent, and frayed,
And while they play their poker game
Some day they’ll use me as a peg
Folded over several ways
To fix that wobbly table leg!
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Submitted for PD's Contest : 101 Old Poems in a Row #7
While cleaning house I over heard the Trolls talking down below.
There was to be a battle in the grove, between a bear and a Troll.
They said this would be the end, to beat all ends, as only one would win.
Well, I’m a mother… so this worried me… on how this would all end.
A Troll and a Bear… fighting…I feared nothing good could come of that.
So, I had to find a way to come between them, to stop them in their tracks.
I talked to the Trolls, who said: this was a thing they… simply… had to do.
In fact, they said they’d all go, and would cheer it on, till it was finally through.
They left when I wasn’t looking, and I had to be there to stop it… so I ran.
The battle would be in the Bear groves where the bully frogs all live.
First I tripped over a root, breaking my shoe, so barefoot… I continued on.
Then I fell into the creek, coming up with mud everywhere, all around.
Brambles caught my shirt tearing my sleeve, but I certainly, wouldn’t give up.
I’ll admit, that Panic does some strange things, as I continued… to… speedup.
Watching where I was going would have been a really good thing, I agree.
But, I ran into the grove, a mad woman, with pepper spray in my grasp, you see.
Low and behold, I’d been wrong! There was a card game quietly going on.
The bears and the Trolls in their best clothes: and all sat there, giving a yawn.
It then dawned; this was a poker game of high stakes, which I had come upon.
The bully frog referees and everyone looked at me, like my mind was totally gone.
Actually, that’s probably right... Maybe, with worry… I truly had… gone mad.
Quietly I sat down, to watch the game… until the bear won it all… how sad.
Embarrassed, I tried to quietly sneak out: very quickly, you can be assured.
Low and behold, I ran straight into a tree… getting their attention, for sure.
Laughing hilariously, one of the Trolls picked me up, and carried me home.
He said, he was afraid for my health, should I be allowed to further roam.
They were right of course, but my mind will be better by tomorrow morn
You’ll see… I’ll prove it… when my next new poem is born…
Ballad of Smorgasbord Cat
Once upon a hot July night
Smorgasbord Cat was born, not right.
The only kitten born with clothes,
She came out wearing pantyhose.
Blue bellbottoms when she turned eight,
Made her feel insanely great.
Her siblings bullied her for fun
But she was powerful, this one.
She’s odd, her mother told her dad.
But she’s so good, and seldom bad.
Where did she get her name? He asked.
I do not know, her mother basked.
Smorgasbord Cat soon ran a club,
She sold drink and delicious grub.
Her relatives all bragged her up.
She gave them each a special cup.
That cat lived to be ninety-three.
And now just between you and me,
I admit I gave her that name.
On a bet at a poker game.
Smorgasbord Cat has her own song.
Cross-eyed face, and red tail, long.
Yes, bawdy and funny, was she.
Married five times, litters of three.
Happy, joyful lots of fun,
Smorgasbord Cat, truly best one
At her funeral everyone came.
No one knows where she got her name.
Politics is a cat-and-mouse poker game,
Some play it well,
others not so much
Amateurs show their hidden hand,
they got an easy-to-spot tell
But the old pros are the best cons,
selling you wet dreams from a dry well
It’s a two-party poker game in the U.S. of A,
has been like this now forever and a day
... at least it seems that way
There’s a lot of cheese in the budget mouse traps,
and a pack of donor dogs chasing those political cats
There’s a lot of dark scurrying by the greediest rats,
avoiding the crook catchers taking another light nap
Today, Democrats may be the cat,
tomorrow, they may be the rat
Yesterday, Republicans may have been the cat,
tomorrow, they may be the rat
Both wanna pocket the money, easy peasy ...
and to the people,
they ain’t planning on giving it back
If you ask them where is the stolen sack,
playing possum is how they’re gonna act
Pointing fingers is what they all do best,
then give more campaign promises next
Saying another election’s coming up,
so just reshuffle the marked deck
Playing possum poker is a grifter’s art,
gotta have a poker face and an empty heart
They love betting the farm, which is money you don’t got
Turning their pockets red to black, when they win the pot
Tip the shady dealer who tipped the hand,
the House always comes up Senate empty
time and time again
As both parties tell you, they’re gonna catch THOSE rats,
if you vote THEM in
S taying up late making
tamales
A n afternoon poker game
C ramming together in a small
house
R eminding the young ones
how bad we used to have it
I nclement weather can’t keep
siblings apart
F amily getting together,
sharing great memories
I ntroducing my son to cousins
he has never met
C radling the young ones as
they try to wait up for Santa
E xpressing our love through
cards, gifts, calls, sweets, and
visits
+++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++
Inspired by brians contest "love
came down"
They say you are the patron saint
Of all things that are lost
Please help me to recover from
My efforts and my cost
I lost it at the racetrack
And in a poker game
I lost it in a slot machine
Please help redeem my name
I lost it on my sister’s cat
And when I cleaned it up
I lost it on my sweet DeLilah
Please refill her cup
What’s that, you say?
These things don’t count?
Only real things, in any
Number or amount?
Haps you’ve seen my wallet then
My cell phone and my keys
These things I must recuperate
If you can help me, please
While you’re out there looking
I’d have you also know
I’d have you keep an eye out for
My marbles and my eo-eo
Enjoy the music here.
http://mike-martin.net/Intervention
ON THE ROCKS
Talk about bad luck, I hit rock bottom and broke a leg
One advantage to hitting rock bottom is at least I know which way is up now
I hit Rock’s bottom and he promptly kicked my bottom from one end to the other
It usually bottoms out when I hit rock bottom
WAXING PHILOSOPHIC (YEAH YOU MOPPED, BUT DID YOU WAX?... I THOUGHT NOT!)
A tree fell in the forest and a hearing impaired gentleman was nearby so it did NOT make a sound
You think, therefore you are and just who do think you are, anyway?
What does not kill me only makes me weak in the stomach when I am presented with the hospital bill
People who live in bakeries should not throw scones
DONCHA’ JUST LOVE IT?
Love is blind and keeps bumping into things
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways! Um…
I loved her to death but got off on a technicality
Star-crossed lovers occasionally get crossed up and can get rather cross about it too
I SAW ONE THE OTHER DAY I SWEAR TO GOD I DID
I made a Snowman that frankly speaking, looked Abominable
The Abominable Snowman retired to Florida and melted on the spot
Bigfoot treated The Abominable Snowman and family to dinner and footed the entire bill (however, things got pretty hairy when his credit card was refused)
Bigfoot often puts his foot in his mouth and he’s got a big mouth too
YOU’RE A REAL PAIN IN THE ASS AND STOP ACTING LIKE A HORSE’S ASS, SMART-ASS AND MY ASS CAN WHIP YOUR ASS ANY DAY OF THE WEEK TOO
A mule got a species change operation and made a real ass of himself
So WHAT if I’ve got it all backwards? (You whole-ass- b_tch-of- a-son!)
Secretariat lost his ass in a High-Stakes poker game
A horse was unjustly discriminated against because it was a horse of a different color
Twos, threes, and one-eyed jacks,
And jokers thrown in too,
These were the wild cards in our poker game,
May seem a lot to you....
But four of a kind to open,
Somewhat evens up the score,
And this was a time of fun,
And we did much, much more
This was our "Military Club"
An idea I did cook up,
To give reason to live,
For old men lost to desperate time
Who's life otherwise passed by them
Turned out an idea sublime
All got ranks in our club,
My uncles were Majors, you see
My father I made the Colonel
And poor old lowly me...
A mere Lieutenant
To drive the staff car around
This became so important to them
My idea had been more than sound
We loved our pool halls
Like most women love a shoe store,
And took turns at each others houses,
And what's even more
After pool we'd have some beers
In one of our watering holes,
And after poker later
A good meal would enrich our souls
Ah, to go one more time
Out with them,
Alas most are gone
And all I have is memories
To help me carry on.
Here comes big Aunt Clara,
those arm pits really stink;
She uses all the paper,
leaves her dentures in the sink!
Wearing out her welcome,
attention's what she seeks;
For her to stay the night,
somehow becomes a week!
I can't go to the bathroom,
she's always locked inside;
Boy, I'm such a jerk,
when I'm forced to wait outside!
I wake up extra early,
a little bit after four;
I have the bathroom to myself,
that's what I thought before!
"Nephew",... Are you in there?"
"Auntie gotta go really bad"
I try my best to keep my cool,
by now I'm gettin' mad!
Ever since she lost our uncle,
she's always been alone;
I can sense her solemn grief,
but our bathroom's not her home!
Each time we have a visit,
our heads are held in shame;
She waddles into the bathroom,
and blows our poker game!
"FFLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOPPPP!!"
oh, what a gruesome sound!
One by one, they ease away,
their smiles replaced with frowns!
One cold October evening,
the skies were dark and black;
Clara sat on the toilet,
and had a heart attack!
We called the paramedics,
five minutes already passed;
What we thought was a heart attack,
was nothing more than gas!
We started CPR,
compressions across the heart;
A poot was what we heard,
she unleashed a vicious fart!
Aunt Clara's alive and well,
she'll be seeing us all too soon;
Our latest plans for progress?
Build another bathroom!!
Til 2 A.M.
One day a Dominican female gave her black guy friend two balls of chocolate.
Not just any chocolate but the kind can make you look twice and pocket it.
The chocolate was so good that reciprocity was the only emotion you could have worn.
For that reason and that reason alone, Til 2 A.M. this poem was born.
13 days before all of this, the black guy was walking to the library in the morning around 11:56
While simultaneously being approach by the Dominican female and a question at 11:56
“What was it that you wanted to show me?” was the question with which she arose.
The following is a minimum Til 2 A.M. but here is how the story goes.
First, they played hangman… Til 2 A.M.
Went twice upon a roof… Til 2 A.M.
Watched a Spanish movie… Til 2 A.M.
Dined at two dining halls… Til 2 A.M.
Went to Walmart 3 times… Til 2 A.M.
Played a poker game… Til 2 A.M.
Chilled in each other’s dorm… Til 2 A.M.
Watched Netflix twice… Til 2 A.M.
Went to the dollar store… Til 2 A.M.
Walked to a football game… Til 2 A.M.
Surprisingly met devouring breakfast… Til 2 A.M.
Worked on PowerPoints… Til 2 A.M.
And played the most amazing game of uno… Til 2 A.M.
If turning up on weekends made you rich, these people wouldn’t have 2 dimes.
To recap the course of events, so far they only stayed up Til 2 A.M. five times.
Now that this poem is read, this story may be dead, because of the short lives in their palms they read.
Life will never know about the journey ahead, but Til 2 A.M. Death must wait for the Dominican and the black… to go to bed.
Oh, how I love a good game;
I anxiously await my turn,
And then I make my play.
I also love a good play;
Good scripts, for which I’m always game;
Stories with a good turn.
When the tides of stories turn,
It just makes the play
Afterwards, for coffee I’m game.
On weekends, I love a good poker game; it’s a game that can quickly turn on a wrong play.
France
Britain
and Spain
Three of a kind,
all with one aim
New World colonization,
territorial domination
Main strategic objective to be made:
land acquired by war,
or expansion thru peace by trade
All three needed native allies
They smoked the peace pipe;
puffing part truth, puffing part lies
Then swore on the ancient totems,
said they wanted to go where the eagle flies
France
Britain
and Spain
Three of a kind,
all with one aim
They had the same common interest —
European superiority,
whose destiny needed to be made manifest
Although they fought one another,
they thought the same capitalistic way,
therefore they were blood brothers
The New World had so much natural largesse,
so many rich, uncharted regions which
Merchant explorers wanted to claim and possess
France
Britain
and Spain
Three of a kind,
all with one aim
They planted their flags,
and gave the Western hemisphere
an Italian name
North and South America
got divided up
in the three nation poker game
Everyone knows that history
is written by the victors
And posterity
tosses the vanquished to the wind
All of the holy prophets declare:
the rise of man’s last great kingdom
is the beginning of the end
France
Britain
and Spain
Three of a kind,
all with one aim
Conquerors who coveted with no shame
But the justice of God is not blind ...
Search the Scriptures and you will find,
God’s final judgment
was declared before the foundation of time
Thus it is written:
The Spirit Horsemen of the Apocalypse
are four of a kind
Ollie the Octopus with his 9 brains
Broke his 3 hearts in a quick poker game
The blue blood that ran straight to his heart
Suddenly stopped before it could start
It didn't take long before he withered and died
And Ollie the octopus waved us goodbye
The poker game wuz progressin' purty well 'til Iron Mike started a ruckus!
Seems he had some spare aces up his sleeve, that dirty, sneaky cuss!
One-Eyed Pete didn't cotton to them shenanigans and drew his forty-four!
Iron Mike jumped up, toppled chairs and tables a-skedaddlin' fer the door!
That started the biggest brawl that the town uv Buckskin Joe had ever seen!
The mob wuz yellin' fer Iron Mike's head but he had prudently fled the scene!
One-Eared Earl, the barkeep, fired his rods a-tryin' to restore some order.
Meanwhile, Iron Mike wuz racin' on a stolen hoss fer the Mexican border!
The pianner player kept playin', "A Hot Time In The Old Town Tonight!"
('Twas Three-Fingered Clyde who tickled the keys fer free booze ever' night!)
Big Nell, who belted out bawdy songs each night, wuz involved, fists a-flyin'!
She busted some noses and shattered some teeth, and I ain't a-lyin'!
A dozen er so uv Madam Rosita's soiled doves joined in the fray as well,
A-kickin' and a-scratchin' and pullin' hair and generally raisin' 'ell!
There wuz so many shots fired that night, it seemed like war had started.
Many drunks awoke the next day to find that thar hair had been parted!
Studs Flanigan, the bouncer, wuz trampled as the fight spilled out on the street.
This sensitive affair caused a deeper rift between the rabble and the town's elite!
So as not to hear the fussin' and cussin', moms covered their kids tender ears.
Old-timers claimed they hadn't enjoyed sech a show in Buckskin Joe fer years!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Right now I’m thinking,
Beach, ocean, sea, waves and gulls around me;
Sand and salty breezes in my hair;
It’s nineteen degrees outside and I’m frigid,
even here, inside.
I don’t suppose an obliging house elf
Would conjure it for me, would he?
What am I saying?
There he is, napping snugly beneath my electric blanket;
The one he won from me in a poker game!