Chess Like That? (Mumbai 2008)
Just another round of the chess game
Rooks and bishops fall dead on the board
Apolitical horses have gone lame
As the dead count to a hundred soared
Black and white squares are now bloody red
Grieve for the pawns who've been blown up dead
Regroup, restart, this political game
Plot a quick 'rechauffe' of the same
And then fix a duel of nuclear kings-
For aren't your motives, just a chess thing?
-
(Written December 10,2008 Tarlac City Philippines)
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Chess
Bishops, Kings and Queens unite
upon a squared board black and white,
surround themselves with castles, find
four pairs of pawns to sit behind,
then each side, reinforced by knight,
prepares for battle day and night.
Eight squares by eight make up the field,
the pawns advance until they yield,
as one by one all victims fall
to an advance they cannot stall.
Attacks repelled, a feint concealed,
till mate King's final fate has sealed.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life is Chess
Lets play a game of chess
A game that could bring about stress
A game that could also depress
If you strive to win without success
Chess is life Kasporov said
Thats what l thought off when l went to bed
Its funny you have a king and a queen
That represents a whole lot of things
Marriage, Politics, love and dont forget natures law
While the bishop goes with religion
The knights go to war to represent the nation
And the pawns march on like soldiers without a choice
But to defend our lives
The castle a wall around our thoughts
A protector for what our identity is worth
Who is behind the strategy
Does the player represent leadership
Are the pieces part of the world
If l draw a game what do l define myself
And if l win am l the supreme
Or is this thought merely too extreme
To play chess better
One has to constantly work harder
Recently l have acquired a bag of tricks
Which comes with experience
And while l play
I sometimes pray for luck
Which sometimes works
Such is the representation of real life
A queen so strong is sometimes sacrificed
While a king with only one move to his name
Is always the last to stay in the game
Thats goes to show that life is unfair
With all the pain and suffering that women bear
Life is Chess
I have to confess
© Sylvia Chidi- 17 October 2005
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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You all know that each title in the Chronicles has a chess theme; that's partly because of the overall design of the Chronicles themselves - the game of chess as an analogue of the game of life.
quote by Dorothy Dunnett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Dead, All Dead
Memories, my memories
How long can you stay
To haunt my days
She came without a farthing
A babe without a name
So much ado about nothing
Is what shed try to say
So much ado my lover
So many games we played
Through every fleeted summer
Through every precious day
All dead all dead
All the dreams we had
And I wonder why I still live on
All dead all dead
And alone Im spared
My sweeter half instead
All dead
And gone
All dead...
All dead all dead
At the rainbows end
And still I hear her own sweet song
All dead all dead
Take me back again
You know my little friends
All dead
And gone
All dead and gone
Her ways are always with me
I wander all the while
But please you must forgive me
I am old but still a child
All dead all dead
But I should not grieve
In time it comes to everyone
All dead all dead
But in hope I breathe
Of course I dont believe
Youre dead
And gone
All dead
And gone
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Are Alive In The Moment Of Death
We are the nocturnal nightmares of fear induced
We are fear by which hope is reduced
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game
We are as children hung from a rope
We are as children in fear of lost hope
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game.
We are the silence of all that is night
We are the shadows scared of the light
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the parasite worms in your brain.
We are the killers of true passion in love
We are the angels of Hell’s mansion above
We are the wings upon which devils may fly
We are the fear and the tears that you cry
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the parasite worms in your brain.
We are the moon as we are the sun
We are the end and the story begun
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game.
We are the children who beat you at school
We are the teachers that deem you a fool
We are the rotting as we are the fresh
We are alive in the moment of death.
poem by David Lacey
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The Drop In Game
Two curious monkeys sat up in a palm tree
watching two Russian men playing chess.
Everyday they watched the Russians play
until a winner was declared the best.
The next day a Russian sat alone at the table
with the chess pieces set out to play.
A monkey dropped in and sat opposite him
and a game of chess got under way.
For over a week they played each other
until the monkey won five games to three.
The next day a lone monkey sat at the table
until its friend dropped down from a tree.
For two weeks they played each other
with every game resulting in a draw.
The monkeys that sat around watching
applauded and wanted to see more.
Two more weeks passed without a winner,
but then the tropical rains began to pour.
A hurricane blew the chess set out to sea,
now chess is played on the ocean floor.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Chess is a sport. The main object in the game of chess remains the achievement of victory.
But it's also because of something personal. My mother and father met while playing chess, so I've always had a fondness for the game. If it weren't for chess, I might not be here.
quote by Dorothy Dunnett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bobby Fischer
your pappy ain't your pappy, but that's OK,
well, he ain't your pappy, but that's ok
you can still play chess anyway,
bobby fischer.
yes, you can play the game of chess,
yes, the game of chess,
but in the game of life, your life is a mess,
bobby fischer.
I don't know but something ain't right,
I don't know but something ain't right,
you were a jew, yet an anti-semite,
bobby fischer,
being paranoid ain't so bad,
I mean it ain't so bad,
considering the life you had,
bobby fischer.
a captive of your own creation,
locked in an world of anticipation,
invalid passport and no relation,
bobby fischer.
poem by Richard Jarboe
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Lame Game
It's all the same,
When a game is played lame!
It's all the same...
A lame game!
It's all the same,
When a game is played lame!
And the game
Being played...
Is so lame!
It's all the same,
When a game is played lame!
It's all the same.
A lame game!
It's all the same,
When a game is played lame,
And the game being played
By the players who play...
Is so tired and lame anyway!
And lame it will stay everyday!
'Cause they 'got no' shame
To play such tired games
Knowing it's all the same,
When a game is played lame!
And the game stays the same
'Cause no one wants to change
From a game that is lame..
And each day that lame game,
Stays the same!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Black and White
Black and White By Dilantha Gunawardana
A story in black and white
Black and white;
Black in white; perhaps black on white;
White embedded in black;
Black around white, sprinkle or a speckle even a trickle;
Shadows on the porch on an eerie white night;
A piano keyboard, intertwined in ebony and white;
A checker or a droughts board or lofty chess pieces;
Black stallions and white mares;
All galloping in the pursuit of unending happiness;
A flow of nimbus with a speckle of cumulus;
Showers of blessings, black rain and even snow and hale;
The smog that kisses the snow flake clouds;
Chimneys and embers inside snowy winter bungalows;
We begin in ashes, black residual ashes;
Connected to a white umbilical cord;
We are born white, virgins in every sphere of life;
Then we learn of the agony of the ebony;
Even the bright light of white, even white water that softens our stance;
Criss-cross, diagonal, straight or in jumps in the many paths of life;
Life, a game of chess, as we sprinkle our lives with black and white;
And in the end, we are left with nothing but black and white;
A powdered white peau against the back dropp of a charcoal black suit
In an ebony coffin, with white shimmering handles
Then we burn in to ashes, residual embers
Ashes to ashes, powder of our existence
Black and white;
Our true essence of life.
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Our Games Of Chance, A Game Of Chess
whether you like it or not
(are you a man who wants everything to be too secure
without any risk at all?
say no.We cannot proceed further)
our lives are games of chances
every moment is a choice
every hour is a risk
every minute is a bait
sometimes we are the pawns and they are the kings
and bishops and queens
i am talking now of the game of chess
sometime we kick back and we become horses
and we invoke the power of the church
we take the robes of divine power: Jesus is King!
the King in us gets authoritative and checks the
queen of her fidelity
we impose taxing obligations
we make love and take the necessary romance
in a further note however, i like the feelings of being the spy.
roving eyes, ten to twenty disguises, and when caught in flagrante
i always say, 'Hey, i am just an ordinary poet!
what can poets do? Can they do harm to you?
Can they put the bombs and kill thousands of innocent people?
Do they ever know what 9/11 is? Or ' What do poets know about middle east issues, ? The Palestine Thing? The human rights problem?
What do poets say about international humanitarian law concerns? '
Perfect! Too perfect! The agree on one thing: Poets are fools!
They laugh and cry! Those mean and serious thinkers of our society!
They bound me
And in pity
They all set me free!
Like a turtle, I was thrown to the coolest river...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life chess
It was like yesterday
that I saw two soldiers
play a game of chess,
both were just pawns
in the hands of an evil being.
They fell from the board
and were placed horizontal
right next to it,
as if their existence
didn’t really matter.
Their lives were wasted
and somewhere back in the states
their status changed to the departed,
before the game of war
had really started.
It was like yesterday
that I saw two soldiers die,
shot out of their vehicle
by a rocket propelled grenade
and splattered, scorched and burnt.
Without choice I was part of the game
and just the Lord knows
from where true courage came
and at times I and my brothers
fought the fight
to the best of our ability.
Today peace reigns
and the game is over and done
and all my brothers have gone,
but at times it all again
becomes real to me
and forever I am at war
with the demons in my soul.
[Reference: Brothers => Brothers in arms. States=> Back home in the RSA.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Checkmate
I look the other way.
To all my friends listen tell me what you hear.
The wind telling your secrets.
Feeding the face of rumors.
Fiction or fact doesn't matter the body is still intact.
A chance to get angry.
A chance to over react.
A chance to truly think back.
What did you do wrong?
What is it what you said, that left the room complete dead?
I could hear the pin hit that hard ground before it ever came.
A prediction of more of the same.
In chess I play this game.
Where one piece is given up for the king.
Almighty and defending.
An opening is but in the making.
And their just waiting take her.
But the right moment decides the game.
And it is all mine with just a pawn.
You have been owned.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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I may play some exhibition games so I don't want to quit the game of chess completely. I just decided and it's a firm decision not to play competitive chess anymore.
quote by Garry Kasparov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Knock em Dead Kid
In the heat of the night
You went and blackened my eyes
Well now Im back
Im back
Im back
And Im coming your way
Well now Im supercharged
Might just explode in your face
Im black
Im black
Im black
And Im primed for hate
(chorus)
Knock em dead, kid
(knock em dead)
Knock em dead, kid
(knock em dead)
The blade is red, kid
(knock em dead)
Knock em dead, kid
Knock em dead
A star-spangled fight
Heard a steel-belted scream
Now Im black, Im black, Im black
Another sidewalks bloody dream
I heard the sirens whine
My blood turned to freeze
Youll see the red in my eyes
As you take my disease
(chorus)(solo)(chorus)
Knock em knock em knock em
Dead...(scream)
Knock em dead kid
song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Colors
Sometimes color
Clouds opinion
Sways the heart
Blurs the vision
White on top-
Black below
Yellow, brown
These have to go.
But with one color
It is said
All are bound
Their blood is... Red.
-
(June 30,2008, Tarlac City, Philippines)
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Wars Being Waged In My Head
The black death has got too me.
Shoot me full of pain killers because of such a simple gash.
Such aghast.
I think way to fast.
My decisions aren't so well thought out.
There more of a slip a tongue.
I accidentally say what should be played.
This is my life.
And its in such a disarray.
It's like a chess board with none of the pieces in there right places.
Shuffle them up.
Another hiccup, wars are being waged in my head.
Some days I want to listen to whats being said.
But alas I resist the temptation, at least till the dust settles.
The coffee in the kettle is always best served black.
Do I lack the proper tact.
Is it a wait and see game?
I wish I could forget all the names.
Whose really to blame?
I got it pushed upon me, don't you see.
I guess you cant win when the shades are too black.
I think its time to write a new contract.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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After that, Kasparov stepped back from chess which is, and I want this to be clear, not good for chess in general at all. As a whole, the current situation in the chess world leaves a lot to be desired.
quote by Anatoly Karpov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Avalanche-the White Death
The land is white
The name of the land brings you
to the land of nothing
The name is white
The white is dead
Sun shines pale, the land shades full of pain
Avalea doesn't bloom and fall in this drain
I'm going back alive again
But no one's crying for the dead
The land is still white
Ice and snow are still the same as yesterday
But the wind is stronger in the sorrow
The land is white
The white is dead
They weep wherever they blow
Forever love, cursed land
Forever goodbye, my lovely land
No more tears falling in this land
Even the sand doesn't know
why he doesn't round to anywhere
The land has frozen like stone
The air is blowed dead
The land is white
The name is white
The land called white is dead
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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