Cash Man played the field
Love to wheel
And deal
Until one day
There was no pay
Cash Man did not know what to say
Felt very alone
Picked up the phone
Heard the dial tone
Decided to go back to school
Swam in the alumni betting pool
Won the spreads
No longer in debt
Returned to flapping
And tapping
Dancing around, something always happening
Choregraphing afternoon delights
Providing entertainment rights
Especially when Cash Man is there
Playing fair
Well versed in gaming numbers
Cool as a cucumber
Cannot be stopped
Ascending towards the top
Not thinking bubble could pop
And if it does
We all knew who he was
Cash Man who played the field
Loving the wheel
And deal
a shameless bluffer
he won at poker and twenty-one
an audacious risk-taker
brazen, brave, and bold
daring to do what most would not
my grandfather-in-law, the gambler
who lost his house to a bad hand of cards in the thirties
From side to side
beady eyes dart
just a-playin’ the game
horse before cart
betting with wild abandon
without a leg to stand on…
lips drawn, tightly sealed
face a mask, nothing revealed
shifty eyes, swivel seat
shifting sands of time
cards flutter up, then down
~ sifting fortune's meltdown
My gambler friend was addicted to sports
He’d place bets on which golfer’d wear shorts
He made tons of money
Which pleased his sweet honey
‘Til one day he bet she’d break out in warts
Darling, my love for you will never die--
Just then, two shots rang out
She heard him cry
O! she groaned. Please don't go yet
He smiled, then went ~ but won the bet
I shall have you richly prepared
For the notorious life of card:
Have you grasp another life hard,
By far tougher than that of bard;
What one does, all the time on guard;
For steady losses: A Retard.
You’ll figure why saints want it barred
Or with a pen for the same starred...
The music one craves for: Hard rock
But while it plays obeying clock.
Timely entry of phoned cops block;
At the closest road mounted block!
You could do with a screening smock;
Black spectacles for eyes that mock.
Your victors plans to slaughter cock
Not where rivals could their guns cock…
Don’t rule out a “Stand in the dock”
And cash there-from don’t goods stock…
The gambler
It fills my body with heat
From my head to the bottom of my feet
An urge so strong
I know its wrong.
But it takes control of me.
I can go in with my purse full
I leave with nothing but guilt
It eats me alive, knocks me ill
But that drive for more never leaves me.
Everything iv got i put in
Then sorrow eats me alive
when i dont win
Why do i do it to myself
It kills my mental health
Why can i not just quit?
I make myself worse with this sh*t
The colours are bright
Each spin lures you in
Your chasing a win
That never comes in
Its not worth the stress i put myself under
For the sake of a 5 second wonder
Because even if i win i put it back in
And im back to square one.
I never thought this would be me
I never knew this addictive part was inside me.
Now iv had enough
I know it will be tough but im done with it all
Im leaving it to flee to be gamble addiction free.
Written by
Blair bettley
The gambler
The night, on the other side of the bay, is a spinning roulette
garish, the entrance to the cave of the netherworld
guns and uniforms at the place of iniquity; remove your hat, sir!
The voice is menacing, a hand gripping a gun.
Eyes are dark pools transfixed, much to lose, one spin more
the self-loathing is a frozen grin, the light on the promenade
throws itself into the dark water simulating self-destruction
one more cast of the dice; luck will return
There is no winner in this obscene hunt for the unobtainable
small wins are quickly lost at the wheel of hope and sorrow
one more gamble before the day awakes to more indignity
as the losers walk home in defeated silence.
A head goes for a laborer’s pad,
After losses to friends at card;
Whatever reaches him he’ll guard,
As life remains unbearably hard.
A head goes ahead to fix a pad
For fifty bags of cement Andrew had;
For making A Final Good out of The Bad
And seeing to still feeding his lad;
If, in the end, very little shall go mad
After first becoming inconsolably sad …
But, henceforth, no careless imitation of bard
While with Careful Gamblers at card.
gambler
racking up debts.
a fool and his money
oftentimes parting ways. he has...
a carefree flirtation with disaster.
he's a slave to his addiction.
forges ahead, despite...
interventions.
a compulsive
gambler
Submitted for...
Give Me A Rictameter! Poetry Contest
Sponsored by M.L. Kiser
Date written: 02/09/2022
A high stakes gambler who lives in Marquette
is in Nevada alone and in debt
Now homeless in Reno
behind a casino
he craves just one more game of roulette
2/8/22
A big-time gambler in Santa Cruz
told his wife: Hey—what’s there to lose?
But she filed for divorce
when he picked the wrong horse
Now he’s left with an old pair of shoes.
2/6/22
Cold as ice
Roll the dice
Once or twice
My advice
Might be nice
Not a sin
Might cash in
Fill your tin
Give me skin
If you win
*Give me skin- Lay it on me..."High-Five"
What's New Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
1-6-2022
The Gambler
By Juno Byron
There lived a ruler
Wh'as a good gambler
tall as giraffe's neck
Silly slim handsome deck
Chaos his best friend
I myself have guns
They have become Jesus
On the cross - said
He ate cigga's da'ly
And rode on horses
In the slums when
He came they hid
Pub books had his
name late in the
Night he came home
Silently silenced go'ment 'ficials
He was a Pharaoh
But his rose flower
Brought him down so
His name was Chalby.
Instinct whispered
Trust your gut
Put your money on it
It's a three-foot putt
Don't breathe a word
Keep your lips sealed
If you blow one more
It's beg or steal...
Your putter meets ball
You can't bear to look
Was your gut on the money
Or is luck just a crook
___________________________________
Note: Visualize miniature golf: A putter is
the club you use in miniature golf. A three-
foot putt is really short, less than a meter
from the hole. Normally golfers don't miss
them. But when there's big money riding
on the outcome...
Sub Categories
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