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still here (wondering still)
by Richard Paezstill here wondering still
wandering through though through wandering
and trying not to dream
of another dreamless night
word is i have yet to win
a single game i've played
yet these word-games played persist
because losing everything wins character
so i continue to bear it all-
and have not a thing to show for it
(clothed in nakedness i run in place
trying to get back to where i've never been)
and surely as you questioned
i play answers like cards
laying patterns before you and waiting
for you to bluff or show me better
your game-face a mask of painted-amusement
as we weigh abstract values on a horizontal scale
that squeaks and moans as we cushion the impact
of gambles lost under wagered blankets
in anger i dare you:
play your father-king
for he who protects
in consoling controls
wickedly you tempt me:
play my mother-queen
for she who loved first
defines which loves last
and all the while in shadows
lurk our secret jacks weighing
diamonds half-forgotten in our coffers
and regrets half-hidden in our hearts
waiting and with spades in hand
poised to bury all
who with our clubs we have killed
with the coming dawn our game climaxes
another hand closes in a draw
now it's your turn to shuffle
as we wait for our dew to dry
or a better game to come along
i am still here and wondering
06/08/2003 Author's Note: half-inspired by Sting's "shape of my heart," the song "blanker" by MJK and Stained, and the poems of Dana Cutts (memberid=5281). finished? of course not.
Posted on 06/08/2003
Copyright © 2024 Richard Paez
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 06/09/03 at 03:34 AM Good word-crafting. The card imagery gave it a nice charge... thanks for posting. |
| Posted by David R Spellman on 06/11/03 at 01:28 AM Lots of word play in this interesting and complicated piece, filled with opposites that sometimes stress much the same thing. Very intriguing... |
| Posted by JD Clay on 06/11/03 at 11:46 AM Much like the game of life, an uphill battle to be fought on many fronts, we are left to re-shuffle only to charge back into the jaws of reality repeatedly. Your poem a metaphoric awakening.
Peace... |
| Posted by Mara Meade on 06/11/03 at 12:19 PM Incredible metaphors...and quite sharp around the edges. Yet another well-crafted and descripted piece, Richard. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/12/03 at 01:19 PM Evocative and refreshingly different change of pace read Richard. |
| Posted by Rachelle Howe on 12/26/03 at 07:36 PM *cue the jaw drop.* |
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