Poems about game



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№ 1210456

The Game

The Game...by Jessie 4/06


Jessie was a quick draw; Learned when he was young
Swore he'd never fear a man, first he'd touched a gun
Made his name, by the age of twelve
After shooting two old men
One of them his father
The other just for grins
Every time he shot a man
Another notch, was on his belt
Swift and deadly vengeance
The quick draw Jessie dealt
At sixteen, his gun for hire
Money did he make
Town to town he traveled
Dead bodies in his wake
At twenty two his name, was on every gunmen's lips
They tracked down Jessie, relentlessly
Guns tied low on all their hips
Knowing if they killed him
His reputation theirs
Jessie faced them one by one
Come and kill me if you dare
By thirty-three, he grew weary
Of all the blood he shed
Seeing all the faces that kill
Crowed in his head
He swore he'd never kill again
Hanging up his guns
South across the Rio Grand
To the land of the setting sun
Life had changed for Jessie
A farmer he became
Getting marred, having kids
Peace was now the game
But just because you run
Doesn't mean that you can hide
A sixteen year old came into town
A gun hanging on his side
Are you Jessie? The boy asked
It's time for you to die
Boy...do yourself a favor
Get on your horse and ride
I'm the fastest gun around
The boy made the claim
You killed my father years ago
To you I'll do the same
Jessie put down his little boy
And pushed away his wife
Stepped out into the street
Then said...go ahead and take my life
I have no gun, so take your shot
You're sure to have your kill
Seventeen years from now
You too will lose your will
Jessie words just fell
Then, an echo from a shot was heard
Time had stopped, no one had blinked
Nothing even stirred
Jessie's son had found his gun
Soon, came running back
Stood behind the sixteen year old
And shot him in the back
A thud was heard as the boy fell
His face lay in the sand
Blood was pouring out of his mouth
Twitching from his hands
Jessie looked right at his son
He didn't look the same
Holding out that smoking gun
Now, he too was in the game.


game.

Author: Jessie Schwartz
+0-
Date: 07/04/2020


№ 1209927

Game

We were on my bed

You were laying down

And I sat near your knees with my legs over yours

As I played a game on my phone

You chuckled whenever I got frustrated

And laughed when the server crashed

Which I might add wasn't funny

How I complained to you

About a stupid game

And yet you laid there and listened

With a small smile on your lips

For some reason you found it cute

You find a lot of things cute though

Things I never noticed about myself

But you did

And I guess that's all that matters though


game.

Author: Nel
+0-
Date: 07/04/2020

№ 1209589

Game of Thrones

They lie, cheat and kill even deceive their world with a pretty smile and false hope.

They show no mercy and Only the Strong Will Survive the winter that has yet to come it truly is a Game of Thrones. Poem by Shelby Kathleen Nightingale


game,  thrones.

Author: Shelby Kathleen Nightingale
+0-
Date: 06/04/2020

№ 1207716

The Sad Fool In Ms. Jean Jacket's Surefire Game

Little Ms. Bleach-Jean-Jacket
With the pixie cut high boot style,
Rolls her eyes sarcastically behind
Glasses, and a flirtatious desire
And wonders if the professor
Likes what he sees
At the smallest two person table.
Reading willing and able
To fuck his student raw
Although she knows this,
That's the plan;
Academic battle strategy,
She thinks it a talent
Double-talking with her hands to seduce him.
Wrist bones whispering
ВЂњNo one else here has to know”
She shyly smiles and laughs in her mind,
ВЂњSad fool thinks some day ill go home with him”.
ВЂњSad fool just game me that extension”
The sad fool checks an email defeated,
Ms. Bleach-Jean-Jacket has won.


fool,  game,  jacket,  jean,  ms,  sad.

Author: Evening Ways
+0-
Date: 05/04/2020


№ 1205248

Game of Life

Science tells us that natural selection
Plays no small role in our complexion.
Environment too must play its role
In making us white, brown or gold.
Southern whites, whose genes spend time
In hot and sunny southern climes,
May, in the course of generations,
Start looking brown to Scandinavians.
While Blacks who live in the Northwest
See dark tones fade, go unexpressed.
In time all hatred based on race
Perhaps will prove to be misplaced.
If whites turn brown and blacks turn pale
For whom would Reverend Sharpton rail?
When mostly Mocha men and women
Drop clothes and prejudice and get to sinning
Our census forms will need fine tuning
When the only box for race is human.


game,  life.

Author: John F McCullagh
+0-
Date: 02/04/2020

№ 1205243

The Initial Game

Grow Up- Learn your ABC's
-Tic Tac Toe & 1-2-3
Hopscotch, bop-bop, twinkle toes
Head, shoulders, knees & elbows
In It- Trying THC
Just to screw authority
LSD to open eyes-
Though it was made by FBI
Till birds are mocking
Walls are talking
Brain is botched
So hops & scotch
Jingo Jango in your glass
Your only present is the past
When everything has gone deluded
Spirits drink your spinal fluid
Should have thought Outside the Box
But stayed inside your mental locks
Cause Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
Is now a Soul put behind bars


game,  initial.

Author: Lucy Tonic
+0-
Date: 02/04/2020


№ 1204778

Losing the Game

Fragmented pieces of my heart
Are scattered on the floor.
As I try my best to comprehend,
"I don't love you anymore. "
My mind is racing to and fro.
My heart is beating fast.
As my world comes crashing at my feet, a replay from my past.
Why is it I can't win this game,
No matter how I try?
Don't I deserve to be in love?
Or do I only deserve to cry?
I cannot make you love me
No matter how I feel.
I cannot change the circumstance
By pretending this isn't real.
So I pick my heart up off the floor,
And I slowly walk away;
Leaving behind what once was mine,
As there's nothing left to say.
Someday I may be whole once more,
But surely not today


game,  losing.

Author: Beverly Kidd
+0-
Date: 02/04/2020

№ 1204608

The imitation game

Maybe,
We're all just imitating someone we saw once,
Trying to be all of the people we've decided we respect and admire.
Maybe,
None of us are truly unique to ourselves,
But rather a collection of our favourite minds,
Put together as best we can.

So forgive me if I falter,
I'm just trying to make you proud.
I'm just trying to make myself proud.
And sometimes,
Most of the time,
I'm not sure who that is.


game,  imitation.

Author: Katie Ann
+0-
Date: 02/04/2020

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