Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her: but once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game.
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THE Cards
All cards are marked it's a game of chance
Fate collides leading us a merry dance
Slight of hand very quick
Nine or twenty one card trick
Luck never gives it only lends
Playing the cards always contends
Fate never looses it deals so svelte
It was always to be the hand that was dealt
So now all cards are marked
And all fates will collide
When at the table you next reside.
poem by Hazel Connelly
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Hope
When I do not understand the darkness,
the things that prison you away from me
at places where no light can fall
it’s as if my whole life is extradited
to the one or other power
which destiny claims as its own
and I am just another player
who in Black Jack can count cards
but this is a totally different game
where the power of destiny
and of luck
always has the upper hand
and at times like in Hearts
you fold
and put your cards down on the table
and not always
are dealt the right, the best hand
by forces which you do not comprehend
are forced
to keep on playing the game
while life keeps on
dealing out new cards
and at times the loss is far greater
than you can comprehend
and you loose the hope
of a new tomorrow, of deliverance
somewhere along the way
and wonder about the hope,
the power of love.
[Reference: Hoop (“Hope”) by Mandi Engelbercht Out of: Speel vir Tyd.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Play
I play some card to hand over
So that the game finishes always.
The cards are fully proper
And nobody lies too much.
I lose a game when it is absurd,
I love the game that I have consulted
With open arms, the arms are long.
I play some cards to finish the game,
It is gaming always on the world,
It is rich how we obey the world.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Solitair, a teacher
Solitaire is a card game
Developed for playing
By self with no opponent
The fact is you are
Playing your own self
This is what
Solitaire teaches you
You shuffle cards
You distribute them
Upside down
Over eight or ten rows
Not knowing which card
Lays where and in what order
Keeping only the top layer open
You start arranging
Cards in descending order
As you move an open card
The card immediately under
Opens up
The card opening up may or may ot be
Matching your requirements
While opening up card
Depends on your luck
Card moving is totally
Left to you and
A lot depends on your skill
But you keep playing
Till the time either you win
By accumulating suits in order
Or when you get stuck
With no more moving of cards possible
And you lose the game
Life is like that only
And as in solitaire you play it alone
Though you seemingly have partners
And you must know that
You are all alone playing your game
You act on visible opportunities
And as you act upon this
New venues opening up
One by one
Either to your surprise or shock
Still you keep playing the game of life
Expecting each time when you act
There will be favourable changes
And with further scopes for gaining
The only difference is that
You quit the game in solitaire
But in life the game leaves you
At its discretion
Leaving you to wonder
Whether you are a winner or loser
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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The Hand I'm Dealt
I've been dealt a hand not fair or just,
Though in this game I know I must
Play my cards the best I can,
Since the same one deals to every man.
To whine and whimper in this game of poker
Is to lose my way and end up a joker.
The right path is always fraught with peril,
But all other ways are sad and sterile.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Life is like a game in which God shuffles the cards, the devil deals them and we have to play the trumps.
True Wealth Held In Hands
cards are played out upon gamble green table
cards kept passed tabled cards are all retained
like life chances taken forsaken what remains?
cheaters takers complainers purpose is aim ruled same
winners losers all played out in card cane greed game
chips are down in game romance legends claim fame
compassion love are only chips life value held in hand
all acts of kindness are stepping stones to promised land
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Widows
My mother's playing cards with my aunt,
Spite and Malice, the family pastime, the game
my grandmother taught all her daughters.
Midsummer: too hot to go out.
Today, my aunt's ahead; she's getting the good cards.
My mother's dragging, having trouble with her concentration.
She can't get used to her own bed this summer.
She had no trouble last summer,
getting used to the floor. She learned to sleep there
to be near my father.
He was dying; he got a special bed.
My aunt doesn't give an inch, doesn't make
allowance for my mother's weariness.
It's how they were raised: you show respect by fighting.
To let up insults the opponent.
Each player has one pile to the left, five cards in the hand.
It's good to stay inside on days like this,
to stay where it's cool.
And this is better than other games, better than solitaire.
My grandmother thought ahead; she prepared her daughters.
They have cards; they have each other.
They don't need any more companionship.
All afternoon the game goes on but the sun doesn't move.
It just keeps beating down, turning the grass yellow.
That's how it must seem to my mother.
And then, suddenly, something is over.
My aunt's been at it longer; maybe that's why she's playing better.
Her cards evaporate: that's what you want, that's the object: in the end,
the one who has nothing wins.
poem by Louise Gluck
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Life is like a poker game. If you don't play your cards right, you can lose with the best hand, but if you know how to play your hand, you can win even with a bad hand.
aphorism by Viorel Vintila
Submitted by anonym
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To My Friend
we meet again
and we play this game of cards
we talk about something else
some misfortunes
longings
regrets as you shuffle the cards
for another
game today
we drink
not on the same glass
we do not clink
the edges anymore
like the excitements of
past marriages
the kiss
for the bride
that the guests did ask
the throwing of the bouquet
the biting of the garter
the slicing of the
cake
& the dance and the
merrymaking of the night
till morning
my friend, i have laid all my cards
on the table
no aces, no kings
just the numbers
and i will be losing to you again
but it does not matter
what matters most
is this meeting
of our present
and future
your hands your smile
the comfort of a second home
a life extended for another turn
a hum
a whistle a brush of friendship
that must last
for my lifetime
thank you very much.
poem by Antonio Liao
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Life is like a game of cards. The hand you are dealt is determinism; the way you play it is free will.
quote by Jawaharlal Nehru
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life is like a game of cards. The hand that is dealt you is determinism the way you play it is free will.
quote by Jawaharlal Nehru
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Chase
In every game, there is a chase
whether it is in cards or love.
In cards we chase the suits
hoping lady luck will play your way.
In love, you chase the hand
of your maiden fair
hoping when you find her
love will be there.
Whether you win or lose
the case for the things we want
is the most thrilling thing of all.
25 February 2011
poem by David Harris
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Shape Of My Heart
He deals the cards as a meditation
And those he plays never suspect
He doesn't play for the money he wins
He doesn't play for respect
He deals the cards to find the answer
The sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of a probable outcome
The numbers lead a dance
I know that the spades are swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
He may play the jack of diamonds
He may lay the queen of spades
He may conceal a king in his hand
While the memory of it fades
I know that the spades are swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
And if I told you that I loved you
You'd maybe think there's something wrong
I'm not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one
Those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who fear are lost
I know that the spades are swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shape Of My Heart
He deals the cards as a meditation
And those he plays never suspect
He doesnt play for the money he wins
He doesnt play for the respect
He deals the cards to find the answer
The sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of probable outcome
The numbers lead a dance
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But thats not the shape of my heart
He may play the jack of diamonds
He may lay the queen of spades
He may conceal a king in his hand
While the memory of it fades
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But thats not the shape of my heart
Thats not the shape, the shape of my heart
And if I told you that I loved you
Youd maybe think theres something wrong
Im not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one
Those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who smile are lost
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But thats not the shape of my heart
Thats not the shape of my heart
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Somebody's game
the way
they play cards
flipping back
forward
our existence
a pack of cards
a queen,
a blackjack,
a spade,
between
the cards
a million
million years
we are tossed
up, down,
down, up
somebody's plan
anxiety to be winners
we live out
in a sea
tossed, thrown,
flipped,
nilly willyly
someone's
gamble
in blood and tears
in between
a bagful of suspense
puzzled
the beginning
the end
is there one?
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Dark Horse
Do you know this mysterious, serious Watt
Who sits at the game with the cards in his sleeve;
Watching and waiting
While we're calculating
The tricks and the honors? It's hard to believe
That any man use to a gamble political
COULD be so slow. And we're apt to get critical.
Why this annoying and cloying restraint?
Can't he declare when he counts up his hand?
Some say he's mutable; others inscrutable,
Counting a slam, either little or grand.
Still, he should recognise players are waiting there
While he is holding his cards, hesitating there.
Even disasterful, masterful Hughes
Pauses to think as he looks o'er his cards.
'Can he be 'cute?' he says.
'Or just a mute?' he says.
(Oh, don't this rhyming come hard on the bards?)
Still, if the 'aces' are all held by Billy, then
Watt won't declare. But the question is' Will 'e then?
E'en analytical, critical Bruce
Dares to declare he has more than his 'doots'
Though he's a Treasurer
And a shrewd measurer
Of all the chances of various 'soots' ...
So the game stands. And there's no declaration, sirs.
All's in the Game. But the STAKE is the nation, sirs!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Nothing to declare
we need passports id-s and an
unrepeatable unique crucial numbers of a citizen
we look at those photographs with weary visa faces
that reflect a tiresome long standing in a queue
why can't we sit
we need hands palms a pointer sealed in an
unrepeatable unique crucial print of a citizen
why can't we make a handshake
we need this for the sake of neat info organization
so as not to be lost so as to be easily found
why is no one looking for us
we need health cards credit cards phone cards
business cards membership cards
why can't we discard them
we need birth school pre post BA MA PHD certificates
why can't we really sign them
we need a luggage a lift a transport a life
why can't we travel
why do we have
nothing to declare
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Winner Take All
Written by dennis deyoung, charles lofrando
Lead vocals by james young
Youve got to be strong
If youre going to make it baby
Youve got to stand tall
If youre going to survive
So just take my hand
And Ill show you how to feel alive
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Winner take all
Thats the way I play it
Playing my cards as the world goes by
Winner take all
Thats the way that I get high
You live your own life
Always needing someone baby
Then I appear to answer your call
Together I know
We can ride the highway past them all
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Winner take all
Thats the way I play it
Playing my cards as the world goes by
Winner take all
Thats the way that I get high
High high
Winner take all
Thats the way I play it
Playing my cards as the world goes by
Winner take all
Thats the way that I get high
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Birthday Card Greetings!
1)
Some birthday cards are humurous
With jokes that make you smile,
Others are cute, with kittens on,
Or cherubs that beguile.
Some have flowery greetings,
Some, sentimental verse.
Some poke fun at someone's age,
While others - well, they're worse!
But my favourite kind of card is one
That comes straight from the heart.
No wit or soppy message. Just -
Happy birthday, you old f...! ! ! !
2)
Some cards are huge and colourful,
With greetings bright and cheerful.
Others are sweet or touching
And can make you feel quite tearful.
There are funny cards with jokes in,
Enough to make you titter.
Home-made cards, pricey cards
And ones all covered in glitter.
Some can be rather age-ist,
Making fun out of getting old.
While others contain messages
That are worth much more than gold.
Some cards are sentimental,
The rhymes inside quite corny,
But not this one - it simply reads:
Happy Birthday, love from Dawnie
poem by Dawn Ferrett
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