Poetry : Betting on the clover

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So where would you like to place your own bet?
I pondered on what the dealer had said.

I looked at the table right before me,
Many prizes to place my money.

One side lay many shiny a car,
Luxuries grand to take me afar.

The other side had a lot of money,
Stacks of numbers for all eyes to see.

Yet what really caught my two hopeful eyes,
Was an object, in the middle it lies.

A tiny flower, so frail and pretty,
It was a clover, as precious can be.

It had four leaves, a rare find indeed,
It brought with it luck, a true prize to keep.

This little thing was all I wanted,
I cared not for others that tempted.

No matter the end for it I would fight,
Whatever the odds what I sought for was right.

The dealer looked up and I nodded back,
The game was set, we were right on the track.

I held my dealt cards close to my face,
Arranging my cards at a very calm pace.

It was a gamble of both mind and luck,
At this moment in time was when I got stuck.

To go on with this endeavour of chance,
A risky business, an uncertain dance.

I took a card out and it was a spade,
With it I bury my past and my hate.

I thought a while and next threw out a club,
Three leaf clovers that I had gave up.

I now had several cards remaining,
Where to place them I was still pondering.

I took a card out, on it were diamonds,
A bet I placed atop stacks of tokens.

It was the value I placed the clover,
Precious to me each minute and hour.

I then looked towards the “high stakes” square,
Where players placed high valued bets there.

I placed a card with many a heart,
A big decision, both risky and hard.

The dealer called out for any last bet,
Before all things were placed proper and set.

I placed a King card on the “hopes” square,
The clover’s left side, I placed it right there.

The dealer thus start to play his own hand,
I hoped next to my King a Queen card would land.

A scary gamble, the prize well worth it,
As the cards were dealt time slowed down a bit.

With breath held I wait, and hoped for the best,
To win my clover, my whole life to last.


Author’s notes:

This was a piece inspired by an imagery of sitting at the gambling table playing the game of life.

Life brings with it many challenges as well as moments where the rewards are great matched only by equal amount of risks. There are times and moments when you will be at that crossroad and you have to make that decision.

To win gloriously, or to lose terribly.

Loses can always be won back but it depends on the stakes put out. When one bets their heart, the risk of loss is ever so great.

But sometimes, you come to a point where you ask yourself, what is it that you fight for. What is it that you would risk so much for.

My answer gave birth to this piece. What would I risk everything and so much for?

A meaning to my life.

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Weekly Writing Challenge : Time for Poetry – “The Bench”

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The clear bright orange coloured dusk skies,
The voices of the people nearby,
The swaying trees, scampering critters,
The gentle winds that let out a sigh.

The old man sat quietly on the bench,
Looking at the children before him play,
He had a soft smile on his old face,
Serenity was all he felt that day.

He looked at the person to his side,
And the old lady smiled back at him,
“Beautiful isn’t it?” his eyes said,
“Yes it is”, a gentle sweet waking dream.

And slowly, his world faded to grey,
He was suddenly not where he sat,
He was instead standing far away,
The bench a distance from where he’s at.

He stood next to a wee little boy,
Who looked curiously straight ahead,
The man followed the little child’s gaze,
And saw a family walking instead.

The parents were talking to each other,
A girl the mother was carrying,
They were happy and smiling as they stopped,
And sat on the bench, the girl laughing.

The old man turned and saw the boy gone,
He saw an older boy behind a tree,
The family at the bench was gone too,
Replaced by some girls chatting with glee.

The old man smiled at the sight of the girls,
But heard someone behind him walking,
He turned to see a young teenage lad,
Walking to a lone teenage girl sitting.

She sat on the bench engrossed in her book,
Truly lost somewhere on an adventure,
She was startled as he sat next to her,
Nervous he was, in his hand a flower.

She was lost, not knowing what to say,
She stood up and quickly ran away,
The boy called out to her to no avail,
Gone like the wind and passing of day.

But she returned to the bench again,
This time wearing a different dress,
And the same young lad came once again,
A new flower held close to his chest.

This time she awaited his arrival,
She awaited in silence as he came,
No words spoken but any would know,
The lad had won her heart in this game.

She smiled and took the flower from him,
And though the world was a colour grey,
You could tell her cheeks were turning pink,
There was no need for any words to say.

And suddenly there was a loud call,
And there came running a middle aged man,
The two teens at the bench were now gone,
A young woman was there, waving her hand.

He walked up to her and gave her a hug,
She hugged back, dressed for an occassion,
He gave her a kiss, a deep felt one,
A reward for her graduation.

A gust of wind now blew from nowhere,
And the old man held down his cap tight,
As he peered beneath the cap he saw,
Before him at the bench was quite a sight.

The woman stood at the bench all silent,
The man was on his knees, looking at her,
Autumn leaves flew but it was all so clear,
Her hand in his, a ring on her finger.

And she burst out crying happily,
Hugged him tightly, and kissed him so deep,
He smiled back and held her tightly too,
“Yes!” was all she had said, yes indeed.

The old man smiled, a tear in his eye,
He let out a very heartfelt sigh,
And he then heard the familiar screams,
Of little children, of laughter and cry.

A bright flash came and the old man blinked,
Back at the bench where he was before,
He saw the old lady fast asleep,
He smiled at her, the one he adore.

A little cute child walked up to him,
And patted his lap so very gently,
“Grand papa! Grand papa!” the child called,
The child he took, lifted and carry.

A young couple walked up to him smiling,
And the woman gave his cheek a kiss,
“It is time to go home now” she said,
She called out to her two other kids.

The old man nudged the old lady awake,
And they left the bench to leave the park,
The sun was setting behind the clouds,
Soon their side of the world will turn dark.

The old man held the old lady’s hand,
The woman he had loved all his life,
From the day he saw the girl on the bench,
To the very day she became his wife.

My dear sweetheart, my very beloved,
Remember the bench where we always sat?
Do you remember what it meant to us,
In all occassions, happy or sad.

Till death do us part they always say,
I will never leave you my love ever,
Thank you for being there in my life,
From then, now, tomorrow and forever…


 

Weekly Writing Challenge : Time for Poetry