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)

Advertisement

Published by

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!

    Liked by 2 people

Comments are closed.