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Cribbage

A poem by Beverly Stock.

Jesum crow,(1) I've lost my scrippage(2)

Whilst engaging in some cribbage!

To a splashy gent in nacarat(3)

He, just a rampant blatherskite.(4)


A winebibber-rumpot(5) was he.

Me? Quite guileless, you see,

I braced with ambition divine.

Lost all value well before nine,


My holdings he did deracinate,(6)

My wealth, too, he did confiscate.

You, oh dear, can’t interpret that?

You, Sir, are no aristocrat.





(1) Holy cow

(2) One's baggage and personal belongings

(3) Bright orange/red color

(4) One who talks without making sense

(5) Habitual and heavy drinker

(6) Cleanse something thoroughly



Beverly Stock is an American poet who delights in creating poetry that asks big questions about small moments, and inspires readers to revisit the little memories we so often overlook. Her work has been published by The Society of Classical Poets, The Chained Muse, Persimmon Tree, and LightenUp-Online, in the UK. Visit BeverlyStockPoetry.com and BeverlyStockPoetry on Facebook.

Cribbage

© 2020 Beverly Stock


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