A Prodigy In Pieces

A boy and board in Brooklyn
bedeviled by the breath of baroque battles
bemused with a belligerent brain beauty
and befriended by battlefield bravado, 
the chessmen championed his ego
wickedly warring to a visionary's voodoo,
those soldiers of black and white instrumentality
would be the boy's unfailing family
never gainsaying his genius, an army of absolute loyalty, 
they will conceal his swindle, prompt the pitfall
accept the sacrifice, pushing panic and pungent pall
cornering the broken king, forcing a psyche crawl,
discovering a chess set at age six
Bobby learned the lines and logic tricks
teaching himself the game's romanesque rudiments
kindling kinship with kings in their catacombs
of collected tomes, cracking their bones
admiring their thrones,
competing in clubs in sweaters and corduroys
against polished professionals with refined resumes
Fischer would find the pin of their personalities
compell them to comply to his surely tempo
create a division between vagabond and virtuoso
and teach the meaning of wonderful woe,
he would have his own U.S. crown by 14,
be recognized as an International Master at 15
and exited earnestly from high school at 16
because, well, why stall spectacular talent, 
after a decade of ravaging every opponent
and publishing several books like a chess poet
the World Title was waiting to test his manners,
Bobby's nemesis, the Soviet saboteurs
had one of their pawn ponies on the podium for 24 years,
since childhood the Communists had wrought
to undermine the upgrowth of this American upstart
he was an imperial demon with a maverick heart,
the unholy Soviet charade was in peril
their image, their nonsense, their ill will,
jealous of his messianic thrill,
Iceland, summer of 1972, an epic on the rocks,
a global audience geared for heady shocks
politicians, pop stars and proteges following Fischer the fox
deep into the forest fire of his tortured fortune,
from his Mother he learned how to haggle forlorn
as Challenger his choice of attack would be crisis and steel horn,
he threatened the Federation with absence
if the prize money wasn't increased at once!
by match time the purse doubled from donations anonymous, 
Spassky Vs. Fischer, U.S.A. Vs. U.S.S.R., freedom versus communism, 
the match, best of 24, the victor, Independence or Collectivism, 
in game One Fischer choked on classic chess catechism
forgot his lines and suffered like a school boy,
the world was dumbfounded, was the loss a ploy,
for game Two Bobby was a no show, perhaps a broken toy,
the forfeit gave Spassky a daunting two point lead,
Fischer, insisting that cameras interfered with his head
and that audience din was a dread
said he'd abandon the battle
if his demands weren't met on the double!
even Henry Kissinger pleaded for no more trouble,
like a divine pariah he returned for the third game
possessed with a prodigious flame,
discipline and intuition put Spassky on heels of shame
Fischer took the third game like an unbothered boss
while the Russian would struggle with loss after loss,
henceforth the abrassive American played with godly gloss
winning six more times with eleven intimidating draws,
Boris Spassky and the Soviet machine were beleaguered by flaws
and conquered single handedly by a boy born for chess wars,
when Bobby died in 2008
he was an undefeated Grandmaster, unparalleled great,
he declined millions of dollars from the corporate plate,
living reclusively, paranoia and anger shrouding him,
ironically, he defeated the United States with true American vim
two superpowers beat, by one man, what would Death do with him -

J.A.B.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017


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Date: 5/31/2025 5:12:00 PM
Justin, this is masterful--a checkmate in verse. Your language punches like Bobby’s brilliance--relentless, precise, and seething with that strange genius only a prodigy can carry. Lines like “create a division between vagabond and virtuoso” and “messianic thrill” hit like power plays across the board. You didn’t just tell his story--you moved through it with rhythm and reverence. This is the kind of epic that echoes long after the final stanza. Unforgettable.
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Justin Bordner
Date: 6/1/2025 6:22:00 PM
I applaud your commentary Poetess!! "A checkmate in verse..." Genius is difficult, because genius does what it must. Bobby was a bonafide badass. So glad this piece excites you...J.A.B.
Date: 1/29/2017 11:48:00 AM
I have memories of this Justin, he was particular on his own chair, and the colour of the chessboard? yes it was big news in the day.' you asked me a question om the jist of age I notice I would say its not that simple, there will always be regrets, always oppertunitys who knows what drives the choice? Is it a crippled family members needs? or an overbearing ones dictates? or an orphanage background. Child abuse? take your pick, then recount the tally of achivements Is my best answer, keep well'
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Justin Bordner
Date: 1/29/2017 6:40:00 PM
Genius is timeless and ageless Joe. Genius does what it must. The tally is in the heart...J.A.B.
Date: 1/15/2017 12:28:00 AM
Hi Justin, This is an "Epic" write indeed. I was drawn to each and every word. I've never really understood the game of "chess" but I'm fascinated by those that do play the game. As always you have a penned a well written write. A without a doubt seven:-) Alexis
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Justin Bordner
Date: 1/15/2017 7:19:00 PM
Chess and poetry have many things in common Alexis, such as tempo. In chess, tempo refers to the momentum of moves that a player will initiate and control for a sequence of moves and or exchanges. Talented players are able to dictate the tempo from the very beginning of a game all the through, though when two exceptional players battle tempo oscillates between the two, its rather beautiful. With poetry, tempo carries the spirit of the poem, complimenting the thought forms. I like your spirit Alexis...J.A.B.
Date: 1/14/2017 8:20:00 PM
Just wanted to tell you that I read this amazing poem to my dad, and he was quite impressed. It took him back to the excitement when he was following him during his matches. And yes, the title is absolutely brilliant, Justin. I love you to pieces! Have a beautiful week full of inspiration and joy. Always, Laura
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Justin Bordner
Date: 1/14/2017 10:47:00 PM
It means so much to me that your Father approves of my ability and intentions Laura. Love me into a million delicious pieces Poetess...Justin
Date: 1/14/2017 10:18:00 AM
That's a great title. Such a fierce, brilliant soul Bobby Fischer was. My dad, on rides going up to church would often talk about Fischer and sometimes we would pass the neighborhood he lived in in South Pasadena and he would talk about his life. His triumphs in the world of chess are definitely worthy of an enlightening and artful ode such as this. Love the phrase "played with godly gloss" and I love that ending! Will be sharing this with my dad and see what he thinks! Always, Laura
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Justin Bordner
Date: 1/14/2017 6:19:00 PM
Sweet Laura, my soul is smiling with your insight. I'm excited its so personal for you, I believe your Father will be amped by this Tribute. I knew the title was gold the moment it flashed in my mind, it encapsulates everything Bobby's passionate genius is, chess, genius, analyzing him in pieces, and what some would opine a fragmented man. Fischer reinvented chess, and championed self reliancy. His life bespeaks what a person can achieve if they devote themselves to a craft and truly believe in their God given talent. I love you Poetess...Justin
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