Card Games Poems | Examples
These Card Games poems are examples of Games poems about Card. These are the best examples of Games Card poems written by international poets.
card left unsigned
bouquet left at the door
~ cautious admirer
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on September 3, 2025 to contest 1409 SENRYU sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
The table’s set, the cards are stacked,
Coffee is ready, out come the snacks.
Allana grins, that knowing look—
She’s got Phase 1 like it’s a book.
We start out slow, just laying sets,
But soon the room is full of bets:
“Will she skip me?” “Who's on Phase 3?”
The drama builds deliciously.
A run of four, a colour sweep,
Wild cards hoarded, secrets deep.
“Who shuffled this?” we all accuse,
As Allana drops—Phase 5, no shoes.
She plays with style, she plays with sass,
She’ll drop a Skip and raise her glass.
A card shark No. She’s something more:
The kind of friend worth playing for.
Phase 7 brings some minor feud—
“Reverse again? You’re kinda rude!”
But laughter trumps each petty slight,
And every hand makes hearts feel light.
By Phase 10, the end is near,
Unless she's stuck—then we all cheer.
But win or lose, it’s understood:
With Allana there, it’s always good.
So here’s to nights we won’t forget,
With rules, revenge, and no regret.
Through every deal, you make it fun—
Phase 10’s best with you, Allana.
Scott W.
Long and lonely are those restless nights
As you toss and turn under neon lights
This city's heart can be oh so cruel
When dog-eat-dog is the Golden Rule
Where everything in life's for sale
In a rat-race on the grandest scale
Attracting suckers from all around
Full of hopes and dreams and Vegas bound
And I like many whose eyes are starred
Praying for the turn of a friendly card
Still trapped like that rat from Spring through Fall
Wave goodbye to the biggest fool of all
When Santa played poker with Grinch
He knew that if he gave an inch
The vile Grinch-like mind
Thinks one of a kind
A card hand that wins in a pinch
Though Santa was quick on his feet
None of his elves were deadbeat cheats
Grinch yelled, “Sakes alive
I win with a five.”
So Santa got up from his seat
And said, “Grinchy, though you’re my friend,
This card game has come to an end.
Coz no five of hearts,
Nor your lack of heart,
Are prized hands, even in pretend.”
Let's play this round of bridge with no-trumps.
No suit is designated as the trump suit.
Alas, the emperor has no clothes!
The suit he wears is threadbare,
It's so light and it fits perfectly.
It's so regal and exquisite.
The suit of silk and gold
holds all who see it spellbound,
"But he hasn't got anything on,"
a little child said,
before being hushed,
and rushed away.
The royal trumps had their sway.
One card two card three
when's it going to be my turn
skip-bo not for me
Petal-pushers and hula hoops
‘Greasy Kid Stuff’ – smear on the goop
Baseball card gum that tastes like rubber
That amazing stuff called ‘flubber’
Dino the Dinosaur and the Texaco Man
Mumblety-peg and Kick the Can
Sky King and Wyatt Earp
Slowpokes you loved to slurp
All that’s gone now, replaced by video games
~ They all seem the same
So many echoes
of so many lives
licking the tears
of my eyes
learnings to crawl
learning to hide
learning to cope
while I die...
Then reality
hit hard
I look at you
from afar
you crumble
while I scar
for this game
there is no other card.
Jessica
Football, for long a game of kicks,
To viewers oft of bare fists, bricks,
At times a show of gun,
At others filled with fun,
But now more of kickbacks it reeks.
It’s time FIFA gets yellow card
To warn: be fair and be on guard,
Let their flow some fresh breath,
Else, there’d be ‘sudden death’,
For you, your wards the same standard.
Should the warning prove not enough,
The game will get rough, make you puff,
Let cards yellow to red
Act as life kit for Fed,
When reason fails to rhyme, act tough.
__________________________________
Happenings | 13.05.2015, revised January 2024| Quintain
Poet’s Note: This poem was penned following a scandal involving kickbacks of millions of dollars by football’s FIFA officials which was only a tip of the iceberg, it looks as if some warning cards were needed like never before—for officials more than for the players. Here are three quintains, not with ababb rhyme scheme, but takes a limerick format.
Lay down misère faceoff
In 500 card game
The open misère bid
To lose all tricks
Is a no-trump call.
Game that grabbed my time,
When this was no crime;
Now I'd a tree climb
Or a drama mime:
That of chef with thyme,
Curse of plates with grime...
But to "let's play Whot!"
You won't hear a "What?"
I still praise the game;
From it hold back blame;
It's clinched its own flame
While long spread its fame...
But to "we play stake"
I could you call "snake!"
Clean has to be pack,
Then, pranks should be slack,
Neat every touched card,
Then, Fraud would be hard;
Cards age with shuffles
Smart eyes this ruffles:
"Please, get us new pack
or off I shall back...
Who shall last card drop
Until then, you don't stop!
I can't forget Cross:
Mostly caused my loss,
I'd choose Triangle
With game at angle;
Feared I most the Stars
While in life loved Stars;
Circles and Squares same;
Lots in your hand shame!
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
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.
Fun playing the cards,
Win, lose, one always must choose.
Card games never lame.
The cards of one’s life are faced up, Sometimes down.
Oftentimes no on ever heed the next card dealt. Life
Is full of obstacles, transgressions, goals, ups, downs.
Playing the game of life although one may master at winning oftentimes count your chances of losing at times
Playing the game of life.