Published January 11, 2010
There was a time,
When I fought back hard,
Not punching, not biting,
But by playing a card.
I didn't have no chips,
I didn't have to bluff,
Because I was the best,
And I played those games rough.
And when things were tight I'd call,
And when they were good I'd raise,
But I never folded,
Not one time in my days.
And when I would win,
No salutes, nor praise did I get,
But a spit in my face,
No chips won back yet.
Every hand won,
And no accusations of cheat,
Nobody paid attention to my cards,
Rather they'd block out my seat.
And when I told them they were wrong,
They'd say, "you ain't right,"
And I'd fight with my cards,
Til’ the end of the night.
No fists did I use,
I couldn't win that,
But the cards didn't lie,
At that table I sat.
And every night I walked home,
Alone and beaten,
And yet I never lost
This feeling repeatin'.
And night after night,
I went back to that place,
Where I could beat anyone,
If they would only see my face.
And angrier and angrier I got,
Each time they cheated me,
And shouted in their faces,
Attempting to force them to see.
And each night as I walked home,
All cold and alone,
I'd say to myself,
"They're all wrong, and it's known."
And determined I was,
To win a fight impossible to me,
Longing for that sweet, sweet taste,
Of an immortal victory.
And one day I walked home,
And met a man on the street,
Holding a sign up which said,
"Just can't make ends meet."
Then I stopped in my tracks,
And stared for a while,
Is this what I am?
I walked silently the next mile.
And the next night I sat,
At that green table with aces,
And did something different,
My hand lost with no traces.
Slammed down those cards,
And got up and I left,
Never to go back,
They're all losers at best.
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It was because he won so much they just decided not to pay attention to him when he played, instead they just decided who won amongst their own results, discluding his.
Don't be afraid of people interpreting your poetry as they will... this just means that you've written a complex poem which can be taken millions of different ways. I mean, with non-fiction or a report about losing arguments, I could see how that's a problem. But as a poem, to be interpreted in different ways? It's a compliment, I swear!
And I think the game was poker, but I'm not sure, so if you want to clear that up, feel free to!
With that said, I would nix the parenthetical part of your title... you really don't need to explain the poem or that it's a metaphor or whatever. It's a poem! Metaphors are common... you don't need to tell us that this is one. And you don't need to explain your poem, really. It means something to you--great. But your main focus is on making this poem mean something to your reader.
Now, I like this poem, for the most part! Cool story, it had to do with cards, and what's not to love, really?
Anyway, the one thing I didn't get was that he would always win the hand, but then he was banned from the table, but he won the hand anyway? And then, later, he came back to the table, obtained cards (how is that possible if they've barred him from the game?), and slammed them down to make a dramatic effect? It seemed a little odd how much the story flip-flopped on that issue so I would clear that up.
Otherwise, nice poem!
Actually Grif, the poem is not about gambling but about debating, and how nobody listened to my arguments, and how I would keep on fighting.. And yeah... That'd why I felt it appropriate to point out it was all a huge metaphor
Hi, I'm Grin, it's very nice to meet you
Right, this was good. I liked it. A litte drawn-out, but good.
Nitpickings:
You shouldn't need to point out the metaphor. In poetry, the metaphor often stands out for itself, and pointing it out makes your reader feel like their intelligence is being belittled. I'm sure you didn't mean it that way, but "Secret Winner" on its own is a much better way of titling it.
I love this. You're really expressing yourself in a great way and pointing out to your readers that gambling can get out of hand and ruin your life. But you've changed tenses - I know this is inside a thought, but if it's not in quotation marks, "Was that what I was?" would be better.
Your rhyming is a little forced. I know it's hard to make something like this rhyme comfortably all the way through, but just spend a little more time on rhyme. I think it could have a fantastic effect.
And your ending is fantastic. The point you're making throughout this is really productive, and you've made it really relatable.
Well done. It was brilliant.
Hope I helped.
~Grin
Hi Lite. I told you I'd review something if you posted it. And you are my 100th review! Yay! Haha now for the review. I thought this was a good example of how some one could change because of a stranger. I liked the idea of a poker game, and that you kept it going through out the whole thing. You were also very consistent with your rhyming. Although it felt a little forced, the wording a little odd because you wanted it to rhyme. It doesn't have to rhyme
. I had to try hard to find something wrong with this.
There should have been a comma after punching.
Another missing comma.
Hope I helped.
~peanut~