Best Solitaire Poems
The deck of cards
Flies away in the wind
Leaving those alone
Playing solitaire
I see the pain written on faces
I feel humanities disgraces
I can not play this lonely game
I run and hide from solitary fame
In the window, you see me over there?
I am not cold or in despair
I have a meal and more to spare
I hide from musical encounters, beggars too
I feel such pain
I feel the tears
Of that lonely man
He with no teeth, in sleet and rain
Me even worse off, heartless and slain
Solitaire is indeed a lonely game
It doesn’t
come natural
to me
I wish it did
I wish I were
but
a team player
I’m not
never learned
wish I did
wish I had
I prefer
to do it all
on my own
I wish I didn't
but always will
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Cards on hand
Numbers and Faces
Two colors not blonde
Kins that bond
Form in lines
Like bordelines
Round or Chinky
Winky or rinky
Question you asked
Answered or basked
Last card in line
Tossed or flipped
End of the line
Solitaire
Deep within a canyon, where shadows are born,
fear lives and breathes on the dark side of morn.
My heart beats like thunder, my cries are in vain.
Beads of sweat bathe my body in cold misty rain.
Lonely are the sounds of a world lost in sleep.
The grieving in my soul is running wild and deep.
Tossed about am I, as a leaf blown in the wind.
He left me all alone in pain I cannot transcend.
Memories are my prison, without a window or door.
He left me all alone, abandoned on a sunless shore.
My empty arms reach out, but he's no longer there.
"Come back," I plead, "I can't live a life of solitaire."
Strong arms wrap around me. In fear I begin to scream.
"I'm here beside you, darling. It was only a bad dream."
As I clung to him I cried, "Promise you'll never let me go."
"I won't leave you," he answered, " because I love you so."
Lin Lane
October 29, 2015
Dancing With Description~Contest
On the edge of town, in a painted house, with unclad shades of gray
the north winds claim the somber dawn, on a dismal winter day
The trees bend low and the sun peeks in, as he slowly leaves his bed
Then with rote routine, the coffee perks. Next, he grabs the frozen bread
Four vinyl chairs, Formica clad, a game of solitaire
Before him sits a plate of food, at a table set for one
A cup of cold, a cigarette, and he who sits alone
The room depicts, what might have been, but reeks with wrought despair
Inaudible, just barely heard, he hums a song they knew
He tells her that the coffee's done, and offers her a chair
He shuffles cards, a few for her, and pours a cup of brew
He sips his own, then cuts the deck ........for double solitaire
He takes a puff, then bites the crust, charred taste of toasted bread
For company, she stares at him across the morning's edge,
Her body propped against the wall, beneath the wooden ledge
Her fixed eyes stare, as if surprised... . The one-eyed Jack is red
______________________________________________________
10:43:26 AM
And ten weeks later
You'd be gone
But your socks
Are still here
You looked so bad when you left
Barefoot without a care,
Solitaire
The blanket you wore
You had sworn you'd tear
Before you'd leave again
All tattered and alone
Without a thought for your own
Pursued by thrushes
And their beautiful song
A gem by it's lonesome
Solitaire
Let well enough alone
The disquieting emotion
Of your isolation
Your unequalled proofs
Of provocations
Considered seperatly
Things are never
Of the same class
Solitaire
No displacement of egos
Along your trail
To go next your steps
No devotee gaining on you
No toting any trappings
And your back subtracted
Into the unsettling downpour
The colors of your cover fading
Solitaire
Bedcloths and linens
Wear dull the drifter
Prompted by airs
And your socks
Are still there
As if an advertisement
For the grandstand
Of your departure
Solitaire
So long to former discourse
Recoiling without answers
According to pattern
No more, the grand tour
For pegs on a board
Extinct and flightless
No long goodby
Forever distracted
Solitaire.
Here I sit playing solitaire,
red queen on black king,
sister number one, so special to you,
black queen on red king,
another special gift is sister number two.
Ten of hearts on jack of spades,
the wrong one you find,
after trying so long,
but you loved him just the same.
Queen of diamonds on king of clubs.
No, clubs and diamonds are not compatible.
I change it to queen of hearts,
Your dad deserves the best.
Red two on black three,
red diamond on black club,
Seven on eight, eight on nine,
all of your friends and people you find dear
are hidden in the cards.
I play each one looking for you.
Ahhh, there you are, the ace of hearts.
I lie you gently in place,
your king of hearts just below you
and continue turning the cards,
but there are no more I can play,
lost again.
I look at each one as I put them away
wondering where I fit in.
There I am,
the Joker,
left in the box.
07/26/2017
He stands on the corner and watches the crowd
From a distance with safety in mind
He smiles at their antics and applauds when it’s time
though he knows he's not one of their kind
Then he pulls up his collar and turns sadly away
stepping back into obscurity
Hands thrust in his pockets he hunches his back
and trudges away wearily
He follows the footpath avoiding the cracks
oblivious to life passing by
until he opens the door of his one bedroom flat
and wonders is this how he’ll die
He turns on the telly and watches the news
and comments with world weary sighs
At eleven o’clock he gets ready for bed
another numb day just passed by
Then he turns out the light and the loneliness comes
his constant companion and pain
he silently weeps as he drifts off to sleep
and Tomorrow's just more of the same
Stuff is suspiciously silent
Spider Solitaire
Like when all the wrong cards
Line up for failure with a grand slam
The blockade of advantages
The stuff space is made of.
The smokey fixtures
The dusty stinking velvet
A dirty green of a dream
The stuff rubble is made of
The channeling of a losing emotion
The Spider Solitaire
Silenced to suspicion.
Po po six in black and the outcome
Of a defeating trio of tens
The position of which never mattered
All the maneuvers of this rubbish
The lows and the highs
And the tens of thousands
Who played Spider Solitaire.
Stuff is suspiciously silent
And then loses the game
What is it about 'what'
That makes this thing happen?
The silencing and it's thick hangings
The solitude of the Spider
Called upon to Solitaire.
/me file save-life saved
On the way up the escalator down once more
Up to that room where Solitaire is played
And dreams are made of
Stuff, an escort to the highs and lows
Makes it unbearable the hunger
For more of the same.
Let her cache or restart the game
Or in preference conquer again
Let Tally trick the deck over either
Solitaire is unfailing to gain
Stuff happens
It crawls upon time happening
On the web between the drappings.
A mused contemplation
Stuff in a room by her lonesome
Occasions the fabric raiser
The pass time of card playing
Interrupted by here and theres
And so the hobby goes
The Spider Solitaire is written.
the empty chambers
of a heart buried deep,
low beneath a vibrant earth,
darkly fed by brackish storms
washed into catchbasins
wetly percolate through broken clay
through caverns delved by mineral roots
building languid waves
silent currents pushed upon
borders of an unseen shore
burbled by eyeless minnows
flushed by distant moons
as the weight of earth above
expands the slurried ache
of a lighter place
of a softer face
a notion gentle bumps along
carried on iron platelets
deep past rasping ventricles
contracted
expanded
contracted
through derelict cataracts
rising above to clean artesian
spent in marble fountains
and walking by in swelted heat
startled by the cool curtain
she smiles.
Life can be like playing a game of solitaire
Nothing gained, nothing lost in the end,
Time comes when we go without a prayer.
Sometimes we wonder if we have a friend
When no one responds to our deepest need
Nothing gained, nothing lost in the end.
All around we observe selfishness and greed,
Especially among those who have great power,
When no one responds to our deepest need.
In the bleakest of times we can pluck a flower
Or, see beauty in nature, frequently neglected,
Especially among those who have great power.
From birth, life has been what we least expected
Who can know what’s hidden in the future,
Or, see beauty in nature, frequently neglected?
Considering all, we are but a fated creature,
Moving in a strange milieu beyond ethereal fair
Who can know what’s hidden in the future?
Time comes when we go without a prayer.
Written March 31, 2022
Wolf solitaire
howling
in the lonesome night...
whom you howl
dismal wolf ?
The loneliness!?
One need not be David Copperfield,
nor a card shark/sharp, scrutinizing
random display codified
computer algorithm doth yield.
The chance to "win"
may appear tubby zero
analogous finding a diamond
in the rough, even
with help of
a heartfelt superhero
nonetheless toil away, asper
setting suitable spade work,
and cock sombrero
just so to avoid,
the virtual sun
shining in eyes, and affect
a fin guard hand sum
swagger that Cicero,
would be fain to boast
whereat sportsman/
woman ship touted
from one coast
to another for playing
fair and square
as with a ghost,
but essentially nobody,
but yourself dost host,
which one person team,
(thou self) essentially most
ideal match, when testing layout
random shuffle computer
program did post,
and no matter experiencing
cerebral neurons sizzling
like fifty shades plus
of gray matter roast
ting like chestnuts
on an open fire
envision accolades huzzahs,
and special toast
ye give yourself,
no matter stiff odds
stacked against thee,
and feel a bit whooshy
washy outsmarting the
game coder despite yar tushy
feeling comfortably numb,
with tingling sensation,
no matter squishy
tissue being pinched with
all out effort of most pushy
fan (again your sole self),
who succeeds as best
groupie getting mushy
timidly asking yourself
for an autograph,
and lastly taking a selfie
posing incognito with a
note tory us whig
outlandishly bushy.
Deck in my hand any day
Hey hon, lets play 31 I say
not now, not my thing, not today, I'm busy
solitaire is all I see
Another deck shuffled faraway
alone, 31 is the game they play
learns how, keeps playing, hours fade away, made her school girl giddy
solitaire is all I see
Bored out of my mind, with nothing to do
Except sit around here lonely, thinking of you
I feel pretty useless, when you're not around
I sit here pouting, like some sad-eyed hound
This poem I am writing seems pretty pathetic
For this aching I feel, you're my only anesthetic
When you're not here, I'm only a half of a whole
I need you with me, to heal this lonely soul