Life's Game of Pitch and Toss.
Somewhere between here and there.

I feel like I have already died many times
before my appointed death date
So my dear Mr. Shakespeare...
Does that make me a coward
Will I go valiantly into my goodnight
Or stubbornly keep on going
Like a Cat
With nine lives
Climbing rung after rung
Of life's intrepid ladder
To Fulfillment
People name it progress
Making the way for the future generation
The future generation scoffs and labels it
The failure of those who have gone before
And so they dismantle the system...
and rebuild it.
All my hard work for nought...gone
Like cycles on the wheel of time
Different names...ideas repurposed
painted anew.
Like every idea born long ago in minds
who dreamed in colors which were long before their time
The original dreamers die in poverty
The new mantle holders grow rich
hoarding the wealth
The rich getting richer
the poor struggling and reaching for the riches
Which seem to flee farther and farther
the more they struggle and hope to achieve.
Looking back upon the mess of a life that I left behind
That we all left behind
as we traverse this precarious tightrope of existence
We wonder...
"How am I even still alive".
What daring feat of survival did I pull off to be this lucky.
Or, is living just a game of pitch and toss,
The winner getting all coins which land heads up,
While tails sink deep into the soil like unanswered prayers,
And the wind forgets which way it blew
Each morning, the sky flips a silver disc -
Sun or shadow, feast or famine,
And we wager our names on the outcome,
Grinning like fools at the edge of the abyss.
Some toss their hearts like dice into the void,
Hoping love will land face-up,
Others hoard their breath in golden pouches,
Afraid the air itself might gamble them away.
But what if the game cheats kindly?
What if the coins are rigged for chance,
And every toss plants a seed,
Sprouting stories in the cracks of our despair!
Still, we soldier on...coins with faces, tossing riddles mid-air,
A trickster spirit running the game table beneath a moon that flips itself nightly.

About the Creator
Novel Allen
You can only become truly accomplished at something you love. (Maya Angelou). Genuine accomplishment is not about financial gain, but about dedicating oneself to activities that bring joy and fulfillment.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insight
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions



Comments (9)
Love your intellect and beautiful spirit, No! God promised to take care of his children. May he cover you everyday!
This is wonderful and deep and you have my mind racing.
Not born with silver and gold spoons. Se la vie, fight you must. But we never give up. Love the vibe here.,
Oooo, this was so deep and had a lot of food for thought. Loved your poem!
A rigged game where the rich get richer. This isn't merely Free Verse. I'd say this is Social Commentary. And it's powerful! And your final picture makes it even more so. Good luck in the challenge! ⚡💙Bill⚡
Such a thought-provoking piece. I love how it blends survival, fate, and the cycles of life into a poetic reflection—it really makes you pause and think
This was breathtaking. So full of depth and rhythm.
To think that everything in life is just a game of chance is dangerous, but it oddly fits how some things play out and many people feel, especially with "the cards they've been dealt." Deep and very thought provoking.
What a deeply philosophical verse, Novel. I also think a lot of times that the money game of life is rigged against most people. But we are still striving.