Gambler

The gambler puts in fifty-cents
expects hundreds in return;

a simple flick of the wrist
and abundance will be his.

I feel like a slot machine:
paying dues for minimal input.

Tells himself there is more
to be had, if luck runs his way;

walks away from the richness
of family, joy of friendships –

Id’ be a slot machine for him
if love equated with money

Dreams of possibilities beyond
his daily reach, a fast track plan:

fortune is calling, palm itching
just one more roll of the die –

The die has been cast here;
no longer willing to gamble.

One more momentous win,
a promise to share the wealth;

what more could any woman want
from a man – half an empty dream?

Took a chance, myself once,
thought he was my windfall…

guess, in the end, all gamblers lose.

(Originally penned Gambler in July, 2016. Image my own)

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VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

30 thoughts on “Gambler”

  9. I enjoyed the conversational tone of this poem although I sensed that the two did not have a conversation with each other. I’ve been working on a conversation poem for about a month and I just can’t get it to work yet. You have inspired me though, VJ. I am going to pick it up again right now. Thanks!

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