The deck fans out, paper-thin promises of triumph,
the weight of military tanks, the speed of racing cars,
each card a champion waiting for its name to be called.
I press them to my chest, sticky fingers gripping history,
knowing the playground will judge me by numbers alone.
Armour thickness, horsepower, displacement—
the hard facts of victory, stacked in my hands.
Dubreq’s mark, Waddingtons’ legacy,
the packs accumulating in worn pockets,
fifty pence at a time, a treasury of childhood strategy.
A call rings out— my mate pulls a battleship,
I counter with a fighter jet. The numbers tell a truth
I can’t argue— I concede, surrender my card to the pile.
A slow lesson in fortune and risk,
the thrill of collecting, the silent grief of losing.
Tomorrow, I’ll win it back— or find a new deck to chase.
Top Trumps is my world, and I am its architect.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 14th, 2025 15:30
- Comment from author about the poem: Top Trumps, a popular card game, originated in the 1970s, gaining significant traction in the 1980s, particularly among children and especially boys in the UK. The game, originally priced affordably for children to collect, featured various themes like military vehicles, transport, and racing cars. Dubreq, the original publisher, was later acquired by Waddingtons, who continued manufacturing the game into the early 1990s.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
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Comments2
A weekend sentimental journey… top trump cards where a real thing among senior primary and middle schoolers way back when.
I sense not only a nostalgic story from the past but a metaphor as well in a world where every move is a gamble and win or loose we get up the next day to try to win back what we lost. A lovely write that brings back memories. A fave
You got me! Ho knew trumping was something learnt in middle school!? 🙏🏻🕊
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