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| Dice and Backgammon in Literature Poetry |
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| Backgammon Blues (by D. M. Christensen) Another week down the drain Dirty dice wracked my brain Think I'm going insane Can't take all this pain. Without friends where would I be? Drowning in a random sea Silly sysops all around me A life raft is a fantasy. Some people make me sick Can I boot them with a click? They think I was another nick Hey you guys it's not a trick. Sometimes the dice switch Makes my neck nerve twitch Wish I was a cyber glitch Than play my way out of a ditch. Is it all a waste of time? Losing with a 6-point prime!! Please make my dice numbers rhyme Brake those doubles on a dime. When all is said and done Still we really did have fun Chasing droppers on the run In To All brewing up a pun. All the co-sysops are quite nice It's not them that fix the dice They're so kind and do entice To return tomorrow for our vice. ____________________________________________________________________ Throw the dice (by Peter R. Wicks) "Yes your honour, I broke the law, by gambling with dice in a shop front door". "But you see your honour, I can not read and these dice are a Bible to me, the dice I hold in my hand don't make me an evil man". "A square of wood or marble block, marked on sides with small black dots, I beg you sir, hear my plea of how my dice are a Bible to me". "If I roll the dice and I get the one, that’s God the father of every one, roll again, up comes two, I think of Jesus, who sacrificed for me and you". "Wisest Kings in history, you bet your life I rolled the three, throw the dice it lands on four, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, are four disciples with these dots on". "Throw again, it lands on five, I praise the Lord that I'm alive, one more roll, it lands on six, I remember that cross of sticks". "Jail me, fine me, if you will, but let me keep my prayer blocks still". _____________________________________________________________________ The Dice Man (by Frans Tooten) Born by accident, lives by chance Picks his ways with the fortune lance Good luck is not an ending word It's just a sigh, too often heard He won a woman, not the first But one without the money thirst He got her love and lost his heart He promised her a whole new start He broke with dice and history Got what he craved for: mystery But time started its grinding work Common shadows came fast to lurk Now, when you want to make a bet Visit the rouge et noir roulette Perhaps you'll see this man, so smart With a big smile, but with no heart He's the dice man, king of the stake Leaves broken purses in his wake _____________________________________________________________________ Dice (by Estel Sowell) name is destruction obliteration my game care to roll the dice _____________________________________________________________________ Dice Lovers (by D. M. Christensen) What tonight baby ... ? I'll be the next Shooter. Want the Big 6, or the Big 8 or will you take it the Hard-Ways ? Screw the Odds ... 2 Squares like us can find any number of Combinations. I Don't Come until you Come that's the rule at this Bar. Your Chips are all stacked Bet on my Pass. Your Place or mine ? or shall we do it in the Field? I'm loaded .... Coming Out !! ____________________________________________________________________ Eleni playes Backgammon at Argos The breeze in the interim of our reasoning towering cicadas' songs to depilate the weariness of desires unfulfilled and you a celestial fire from the union of Aris and Aphrodite with weeping and inconsistent movements of a child are pleading for the rest of the story. It's time for us to purify the silence possessed by the inexpressible like the empty caf?s inhabited in the nights by the deceased playing backgammon in the mirrors for even Pure Logic through which it is reflected abides in Chance and Need. Now and then around the tables glides Eleni of Sparti gently touching the collars of the jackets entrapping with her golden name the dice in the air and the men are crying out like rowers enfeebled by the tempest and Ponos cries wounded by the presence of divine beauty. It's time for us to purify the silence possessed by the inexpressible like us the lepers of the mercy born alone in voluptuous moments playing backgammon with the deceased in the sanctuary of underwater caves to abstain the battle cries of a war that has ended and of a new one that shall begin and Eleni - ah! - Eleni of Sparti gently touching the collars of the jackets juggling with the golden name the dice in the air - double six! - and the men crying out like the rowers reposed by the tempest and Ponos cries wounded by the presence of divine beauty. ____________________________________________________________________ Backgammon (by Novocaine) He stands with his back to me Dispassion on his His hard face He is rigid and glassy eyed Cold and distant He has slim legs coffee skin And a gap between his front teeth Collecting bougainvillea when we Were eleven Thirteen together reading Hitchhiker's Guide He taught me about aeroplanes and Backgammon At a bustop exhaled-breath that looked Like smoke, we chuckled Fifteen in dusty turtlenecks and Old coats I was shy in a school tunic in A jaundiced photograph We played chess on a creaky sofa Animated faces checkmate! Seventeen hesitant fingers interlock And now I'm falling Through the gap in your front teeth I'm falling through The spaces the voids in you I'm lost, a solitary weeper Lost, wondering why you Haven't found me I see you now But who is that by your side? I'm sitting on bricks Watching my tears as they blend Evenly into Themselves. |
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