Chess in the Luxembourg Gardens Paris
the volunteering kings and queens
enrobe behind a chequered screen
a bishop's caught in traffic
just outside the gate
and knights whose pennons snag the branches of the trees
where hunched-backs on fold-up chairs
crouching ill at ease
pawns not up for yet another fight
dispersed to benches
in the fading winter light
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Related quotes
Blinded Into A Stale Checkmate
Gamed!
Issues they keep,
Are transparently weak.
And superimposed,
With superficiality to give them weight.
So light of mind and purpose.
They would like to think of themselves,
Living in the land of opportunity...
As kings and queens.
But they are attached like pawns.
Rooked and played to remain dazed!
Gamed!
Obvious as if dressed mannequins,
Placed in store front windows to tease passersby.
Only attracting those curious,
Who remark how life-like they appear.
'If only they had light in their eyes.
They could come close to looking 'real'.'
Lame,
Gamed.
And so predictable.
Obvious,
As if dressed mannequins.
And superimposed,
With superficiality to give them weight.
'If only they had light in their eyes.
They could come close to looking 'real'.'
Gamed!
They would like to think of themselves,
Living in the land of opportunity...
As kings and queens.
But they are attached like pawns.
Rooked and played to remain dazed!
To be teased by the sleazers.
Who know how to keep them...
Transparently weak.
And irrelevant.
Easily positioned to trick!
Gamed!
And blinded into a stale checkmate,
Wherever it is they may go!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Kingdom
Had the kings and queens of this kingdom bled?
The wild and eerie winter is upon us,
We can not witness a criminal who has been dead.
Your solution to royalty is absolutely ahead,
The summer believed me, it was absoluteness,
Had the kings and queens of this kingdom bled?
We say and did formulae of chemistry in bed,
The same post of evil as absentmindedness,
We can not witness a criminal who has been dead.
Our results bespeak in front of the led,
The exact opposite of leading is malice,
Had the kings and queens of this kingdom bled?
When does the king seek kindness from the misled?
Your happiness is special with malpractice.
We can not witness a criminal who has been dead.
The understanding I sought was hunger to be read,
A shining example of pride is in books of passiveness.
We can not witness a criminal who has been dead.
Had the kings and queens of this kingdom bled?
poem by Naveed Akram
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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
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The Game Of Chess
Red knights, brown bishops, bright queens,
Striking the board, falling in strong ‘L's of
colour.
Reaching and striking in angles,
holding lines in one colour.
This board is alive with light;
these pieces are living in form,
Their moves break and reform the pattern:
luminous green from the rooks,
Clashing with ‘X's of queens,
looped with the knight-leaps.
‘Y' pawns, cleaving, embanking!
Whirl ! Centripetal ! Mate ! King down in the
vortex,
Clash, leaping of bands, straight strips of hard
colour,
Blocked lights working in. Escapes. Renewal of
contest.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Sonnet: Grow Trees
The branches cut the wind fierce to a breeze;
The leaves break sunlight into chequered beams;
The shade of trees affords all travelers peace;
The wearied ones sleep ’neath the trees in dreams!
And birds too build their nests on branches high;
The squirrels eat their berries with great joy;
The trees make verdant all landscape near-by;
And attract rain in which children enjoy!
Trees make the earth greener and beautiful,
Adding oxygen to the air we breathe;
Preserve its trees, man! Nature is grateful;
The leaves and flowers can make us a wreath.
Trees are so useful to mankind always;
’midst good trees, men have spent their earthly days!
7-14-2002
poem by John Celes
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Have Courage
Have courage, for you face a fight
And it is time for you to go
Before the fading of the light.
Though it may rarely read quite right,
And seems too soon for such a blow,
Have courage, for you face a fight.
Keep this in mind; keep this in sight:
That God is watching; this you know
Before the fading of the light.
And though the future is not bright
He will be with you always, so
Have courage, for you face a fight
So struggle on with all your might,
Not heeding any fearsome foe
Before the fading of the light.
Keep marching, marching to the height
Of heaven above from earth below;
Have courage, for you face a fight
Before the fading of the light.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Autumnale for M lady ernestine
The falling leaves dance in the breeze
and clothe the ground beneath the trees,
in autumn colours rich a rare.
The trees themselves will soon be bare.
Left no defence against the wind.
Their winter plans are well designed,
bare twigs and branches hold less snow
than useless leaves they have let go
The wintry gales to no avail
try hard but they are doomed to fail,
They can’t destroy the sturdy trees;
resisting with apparent ease.
Although they bow before the blast
they know that winter cannot last
The winds will die and fade away
the trees will they’re here to stay.
Spring will return the trees will green
as if the winter had not been.
The trees put on their new spring clothes
along with every plant that grows.
8-Oct-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Riverboat
Riverboat,
Revolution!
Light,
Darkness,
Stuff,
Selection,
Seed,
Weed,
Need,
Deed,
Heed!
In this world,
Back to life,
Queens,
Kings,
Juggling,
Watching,
Kings and Queens! !
The theory,
The story,
The history,
The glory!
With the pressure;
But, 'sorry' is a sorry word.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I Saw An Old Image In My Mind - Noah's Ark
I saw an old image of my mind Noah's Ark
Fading in the wilderness of the sky
I touched the land with my dreams
And nothing I knew said it was real-
I heard the sounds of songs of delight
And remembered the Creator in the days of my youth-
I listened to the poems long in the hearing time of my mind
And I waited as I wondered why and we are all destinies not struggling to be free-
I thought I lived
They were branches of other trees
An old man’s folly can never capture -
The first wonder of an infant eyeing through branches the lips of the sky -
We are wonders and dreamings and seemings and always being beyond what we are not-
And when our lives are done in this last world
God who made branches and trees and Noah’s ark and the leaves of the first land
Will remember to make us see again,
As if we were always Light and more Light and Still more Light
Heading out again through another lost wilderness.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Burn The Kings' Robes
I write to light tomorrow's flame
When I am gone and can fight no more
And i fight beside those who are the same
as I - the Freedom Rebels; the caged; the poor
I've sunk my teeth into the tyrants bars
and shrieked like a monkey attached to probes
I've summoned the heat from the very stars
to shred and burn the Kings' great robes
Because the Kings will smile with arms wide spread
and call on 'their people' to fight for a cause
then turn their backs, 'till half the people are dead
and find another reason to put Peace on pause
The people believe in the good of men
and the rulers exploit this fatal trait
They give answer knowing you've asked the wrong question
They use our very good faith as bait
Once caught in the trap we'll raise finger and point
and pass blame far from ourselves
deep down we elect representatives so that we may annoint
them with the burden of carrying our guilts and out Hells.
December 4th,2011
poem by Ray Quesada
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Winter's love
Winter, has the charm of life,
Winter, is like my wife.
Winter is my love,
Winter is my dream of always ''wow''
I always wait for winter like its friend,
the trees in winter always bend, having its branches like the ghosts arms.
they are my always my eye's charms.
do you love winter as i do?
poem by Leah Dsouza
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Homecoming Traveller
Long branches stretched over the driveway
Felled by a summer storm
On the mailbox, a red flag calling
The newspaper late on the ground
Dusky foxes fled the fading light
And squirrels clung to the sides of trees
As he approached, with shiny shoes
Teasing the stones like hide and seek
Light flickered from the house ahead
A fairy cartoon through thin veiled lace
She sat by the table, alert, fair-faced
Lightly curled hair, eating slices of pear
Oblivious to the traveller outside
Who might come home at any time
From anywhere, destined to wander
Through the swaying doors of her life
As the day took leave, trees standing guard
He paused an instant to mark the reprieve
Fumbled his key and the old screen door
To receive her smile, by joy released.
poem by Frank Bana
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The Salesman
My lords and ladies, knights and squires,
Tonight shall see ye bask in fires
That do not light until the day
Has passed and is gone on its way
Then are heralded by choirs.
These fires seen but unknown are
Far from here, so very far,
So you would know from distant view
What you're seeing, have some clue,
But not when on that star.
A star! My dears, I speak not lies
(Well, I do, my conscience cries)
When I say you'll sit tonight
Upon a star thanks now to flight
That puts us in the skies.
Human flight! We need not wings
To soar among aerial things.
A backing band shall we provide
And singer too shall be supplied
To treat you well as kings.
As kings! Again my words speak large
So shall we now discuss the charge?
No? I'll leave it to surprise,
Amaze the mind, Widen the eyes
Upon our floating barge.
So sign up quick to snag a seat
Where dreams and imagination meet.
I'm sure you know we'll take you there
Past asteroid belt, past solar flare,
With a price that none can beat.
poem by Liam O'Brien
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Volunteering+Reciprocation=(not) Obligation
If you are volunteering your services,
That is exactly what that means.
Your services are consciously volunteered.
IF you are volunteering with accompanied expectations...
You set yourself up for disappointment.
And those who do this are not empathized at all.
Very few are dedicated to reciprocation.
Since to do so is not an obligation.
And some folks select to enforce a connection,
Between these disconnections.
Volunteering+Reciprocation=(no t) Obligation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We Need All These
we need some flowers to ease the dimness
when darkness shrouds our thoughts
we need the moon's sheen to assuage the sickness
that invades our spirits
after a hard day's work
we need to unwind and relax and sit and watch
from our chairs the trees below
the winding paths
the fading of the light
we need the conversations
after the meetings
the closed doors that we finally open
the sound of steps leaving
we need the walk with someone
hand in hand
between the needed silence
we need the sound of spoons and forks
the sound of hot water from the teapot
we need all these to bring us again
to our youthful memories
about whatever good we once did
about whatever faults we have mended.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Farmer
Clad in shabby dress, stinks sweat,
A churlish who works day and night
In the field,
To speed up the pace of progress,
To continue the game of politics,
The destiny of kingdoms
Lies on his rough palms,
By dint of his being,
The kings are kings and
The queens are queens,
He is the father of civilization.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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I Want to Meet the Person who Made the Chair
I want to meet
The person who made
The chair
Kings and Politicians
Fight for the chair
Fight may be fair unfair
One goes other comes
The chair remains
Always Waiting
For the old to go
New to occupy
I keep thinking
If only benches were there
Hundreds
Could have sat on them
Fights and killings
Would have been less
Less enmity
Less blood shed
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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The King Of The Chairs
no matter how qualified
and competent is the king of the chairs
to the mind of the table
the king of the chairs
will always remain as only one
of its serving knights.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Whispers of trees
Trees whisper of the coming winter
Leaves mutter among themselves
Seasons silently steal upon us…
As Falling streams from rocky shelves
Soft sibilant sighs, indistinct…incoherent
Nature’s voices, spoken through the dells
It’s the trees whisper… of the coming winter
The voices of Trolls, faeries and elves
Branches freeing…captive leaves fleeing
Limbs bleakly waving…in poignant farewell
Listen closely! …to the trees soft whisper
Of places of mystery…where legends dwell
Trees whisper the coming winter
Voices elusive…secretive as well
Hear the murmur of the wooded heart…
muted tumble of an acorn shell
Trees whisper…coming winter…
Tales that only trees can tell
poem by David Whalen
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Winter Breeze
The winter breeze
Seems frigid to me.
As I sit in the park
All alone.
The limbs of the trees,
Don't sway or move
Along with the winter breeze...
The tire swing moves,
Occupant free...
While the leaf barren trees
Shiver in the winter breeze.
Even the most playful and darring children,
Wont be caught in the cold.
This winter breeze
Seems frigid to me....
I cant wait for spring....
poem by Ashley Wade
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