Who knows if we will die or if we thrive?
If we are meant for Heaven or for Hell?
For though we flourish at full fathoms five,
ten fathoms deep they ring our funeral bell.
Nine penny, ten a penny, roll the dice.
Loan me ten dollars, ’cause I’m feeling hot.
If I roll only once or I roll twice,
will I throw me a snake eyes? I think not.
And ten little Indians never will
pluck a tail feather of a whippoorwill!
For dVerse Poets “Ten” Poem We were to write a poem of ten lines with ten syllables per line and an ababcdcd ee rhyme scheme. HERE is the link for that prompt. The link to read other poems for the prompt is given above. Image by Timo Müller on Unsplash.