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The Poem

Lady Luck is Cruel

Wednesday, 30 August 2006

With fifty-two cards, there are no hands-bared
as the dealer deals out the hole.
A call from the gun makes me think some;
why no raise with eight left to go?

It folds 'round to me, I peak and I see
two Kings with a gleam in their eye.
Short stacked with a hand, on the button I stand;
the blinds and more will be mine.

I bet double the pot, a blind calls and one not
and the gun considers his move.
He tries to look weak, but his acting is meek;
he calls with something to prove.

A tap and a slop, out comes the flop
the low rainbow ensures me the cup.
The gun pushes it all, and I quickly call;
the blind folds and we're going heads up.

I’m ahead it seams, as he turns up his Queens
he has only 2 outs or I win!
Another burn and the turn, no help though he yearns;
one more to come out and I’m in.

A hush falls on the room, it’s all over soon,
he's praying for the miracle river.
His options are fading, drawing dead to a lady;
and the crowed erupts when it hits her.

Like a stab in the heart, I stare with a start
my chances of winning were gone!
My mind on the beat, I sat in my seat;
singing my own self-righteous song.

All but the fool, knows Lady Luck is cruel
inward we look for the joker.
It’s easy to see, what went wrong for me;
why do we all love to poker?

© 2006 Curtis Kayfish
cruel-lady-luck.com

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