.
With every card or call,
In the eyes of them all,
He was the strongest man,
One who could not be beat,
Not even by a cheat,
Always a perfect hand.
.
Just another take, another version of The Gambler that I had in mind when writing the poem. Whichever you prefer, enjoy!
.
And in the eyes of all,
Whatever card or call,
He was the strongest man
One who could not be beat,
Not even if one’d cheat,
For he’d the perfect hand.
.
.
One moment is all it takes,
An instant, a few mistakes,
And you drop down to your knees,
Slave to your own miseries…
.
All it takes is one moment,
In just a single instant,
You can turn it around,
Lift yourself off the ground!
.
Whether sorry or so great,
No matter really the state,
The path is never that straight,
Such is the power of fate.
.
.
Outside the night is dark
And I am sitting here
Pondering my life stark,
Wondering if a mere
Human like me will spark,
If it will get better.
.
*
And here we are, together once again,
dancing in circles around each other,
unable to resist our hearts’ assaults,
shivering under the cold pouring rain,
both searching, longing for one another,
round and round, in a never-ending waltz.
*
A slight rewriting of the version of the poem you can find here : ‘And here we go again’
.
Dreams will make you happy,
And dreams will make you sad,
They get you away from this world so bad
But when you return comes melancholy.
.
.
Pieces of hard water are falling from above,
They fill the emptiness of what we call the sky
With their strange yet stunning geometrical shapes,
‘Tis quite hard to see in this white obscurity,
As slow inverted steam settles down in layers.
It doesn’t make a sound and fits air like a glove,
It’s white and light and frail, and cold and wet and dry,
I wanted this so bad, it all seems like a dream,
Like the world itself is answering my prayers,
Drowning all my senses in this rare purity.
.
.
White snow is falling,
Footsteps are crunching,
I know he’s stalling
And that I’m rushing.
.
.
They come from the cold howling blizzard,
A magician from the Order Grey
Accompanied by a white wizard,
To prevent him from going astray.
Far away from his land, he travels,
Plenty mysteries he unravels,
Looking among many a question
For an answer to his obsession.
The ancient ones have long left behind,
In their temples worn out by the wind,
Secrets unknown, hidden to mankind,
Of which he is trying to unwind
The deeper meaning, to understand
Mighty powers he now has at hand.
.
.
‘Tis a majestic bird of sun and fire,
Burning, bright and blinding, of pure white light,
Its divine image deep into my soul,
It shines upon me, never taking flight
But in my eyes soaring ever higher,
Making me once again complete and whole.
.
Tales of Ore 