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1 replies. Last post: 2004-02-02

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Chess Poems
  • Andres Villasante at 2004-02-02

    The Blue King eyes the enemy

    The Red Queen he will now melee

    Go blue peasant! Meek pawn to centre!

    Boldness makes for great adventure

    Its red twin advances and faces off

    A knight leaps in to glower and scoff

    The Blue King commands his fervent army

    The Red Queen marshals her own strategy

    The Blue King smiles and fiancettos his bishop

    The Red Queen frowns and a knight does develop

    Her forces are strong but the King has threats

    And designs on her turf and designs on her chest

    Of silver and gold and jewels beyond counting

    To match his own, of His Highness The King

    He frowns and surveys the grim battleground

    That explodes in the midst of almighty sound

    Of thundering knights and riled rooks raging

    Of bishops chanting at screaming pawns shaking

    The angry King orders a cavalry charge

    The knights gallop madly with scant regard

    For their own fate, they draw their bright swords

    The enemy shudders at their onslaught

    Cold Blades steal life and warriors fall

    Hot Blood sprays and splashes and stains the board

    The knights are slain in bold sacrifice

    For they were outnumbered and paid the price

    But they wrought hell, the Red Queen is hurt

    The blood of her dead sinks into the dirt

    The Blue King commits and throws in his all

    The dead pile up the action is cruel

    Masterful thoughts transcend cold logic

    And tactics are killed by witchcraft and magic

    The Queen's hot feelings usurp calculation

    The King is ruthless and fights with elation

    But passions are blinding the King in his strife

    Overreaches his talent and loses his might

    The Queen moves swiftly into his view

    And he knows not what to say or do

    And with a cool majestic thrill

    She marches in to claim her kill

    To seal his fate

    With final mate

    She crosses the moat

    Puts her sword to his throat

    But it is too late

    To reverse her mistake

    For she came too close

    In her keenness to gloat

    Tears polish her eyes

    She prepares to die

    The axe for her neck

    The sad King does check

    And now she is owned

    By his sceptre and throne

    United in war

    In arms of awe

    They no longer duel

    But fondly rule

    With glorious art

    Each other's glad heart

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