POKER WITH THE DEVIL- A POEM BY DAVID RITTER

Poker with the Devil

Once beneath a blood-red moon,
in a land that love forgot,
a wayward Joe roamed from his home
and started to drink a lot.

He left behind a nagging wife
in a house on Devil’s Night.
Though he tried to please his bride,
Joe grew weary of the fights.

Nobody knew the pain he felt
or why he ran away,
but feeling unloved was like a shove;
he found no need to stay.

He staggered down a broken road,
where fading dreams would die.
Never mad, but sometimes sad,
no one wondered why.

Through brisk October wind,
where restless leaves would fall,
Joe felt doubt and was down and out
with little hope at all.

He made his way to Whispers Lounge
to hide out from the cold.
In the corner sat Satan waitin’
at a table piled with gold.

The devil held a deck of cards
and shuffled like a pro.
He saw the lad alone and sad
and whispered, “Come here, Joe.”

Joe turned his head, and the devil said,
as he snickered with glee,
“Why not pull out that chair right there
and play one hand with me?”

There was no way that Joe could play,
for he had nothing to bet.
A drunken life and leaving his wife
had left poor Joe regret.

Joe was broke, and the devil spoke,
“There’s one way you can play.
If you win by going all in,
I’ll save your marriage today.”

“I’ll give you all my gold right here
and any desires you choose,
but I get your soul, and you can’t go
if by chance you should lose!”

The gold shone bright in Devil’s light,
a chill hung in the air.
He thought about his long-lost wife,
and wondered if she cared.

All life’s pleasures with vast treasures,
if only Joe could win.
Desire was strong, greed was wrong,
but Joe said, “Deal me in!”

The devil dealt from the bottom
and did his best to deceive.
He talked sweet like a lying cheat,
with an ace up his sleeve.

Through smoky haze and candle’s glow,
Joe’s face began to blush.
When he looked hard at his cards,
he saw a Royal Flush!

With no way to lose, Joe sipped his booze
and pondered the winning pot.
Desires await, the gold looked great,
but a nagging wife was not…

Oh, somewhere in a bar somewhere,
merry men hang out.
Poker is played, drinks are made,
tall tales get tossed about.

And somewhere men are cheering,
for quiet nights again,
when clever Joe told the devil no,
and folded with a grin!

— David Ritter