Best Chess Piece Poems


Counter Clockwise

If the end was the beginning and the beginning the end, would you go back in time and 
would you do it again?

Would it make any difference to go counter clockwise, because one you're going backwards 
and forward you're just repeating

So is it safe to say that life is just a game? Like a chess piece moved by the day to day.
We learn from our mistakes but we continue to make them, we are taught all the rules and 
proceed to break them

So am I moving forward or backwards is all I have to say, because we live counter 
clockwise each and everyday.

The Pearl Essence and Dark Horizon

"The Pearl Essence and Dark Horizon"


Just,

as a pearl of wisdom 
plucked like a 
luminous silver apple 
from a blue sky forest,
an entrancement;

the Sun watches 
like a voyeur 
from afar
tucked under 
his tenebrous horizon,
while the dark night
is fully illuminated,
the romance
like Guy Fawkes
straddling 4th July
lush lit and lotus-eating
blue independence,
calls forth the 
circadian goddess
blushing like a new bride,
who has waited for this 
moment, it would seem
her entire life, 
waxing and waning
shifting hues of 
shimmering pink nude
into revealing shades 
of ultraviolet
sans sun, but, 
just the same, 
romance 
ignited

Just, 

as a pearl of wisdom
plucked like a 
luminous silver apple
from a blue sky forest,
an entrancement;

temptation, 

Sun 
rises 
like a fallen chess piece
to take his untouchable 
luminous silver 
teasing 
Moon

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)







"Tell me the story 
about how the Sun 
loved the moon so much, 
that he died every night 
just to let her breathe."

A Man For All Seasons

...for the Rev Eric Shirvell-Price


A blizzard of papers blanketed his desk.
His pipe rack stood like a chess piece, 
mutely waiting to be shifted.
Sepia toned photographs lined the mantlepiece,
like soldiers standing at attention, 
and there was a smell of stale tobacco.
Volumes and manuscripts burst
from a bookshelf, while origami figures
lined another. A coffee mug bore stains
of sherry aperitifs, and port to accompany
his after dinner cigar. Crosswords 
and limericks were everywhere, 
vestiges of his light and lively mind. 
There were newspaper articles,
and empty fast food containers, evidence
of lonely, late night dietary indiscretions.
His vestments hung limply from a coat hook
like wraiths, belying his portly frame.
the frame which now lay in a mahogany box,
a whisper of his former self, 
a shadow of the man that he once was.


Kind

She wore a smile on her face like nothing matter
In a place that's full of benefits and betrayal 
Her kind nature lit a passion like candles 
Burning one sense of insecurities away 

Scars that doesn't justify her false facade 
Eyes that's looks in sync of the abyss 
Hassen on her brain she knows this is not her home 
For everywhere she goes her past seem to follow 

Battlefield and battle fiend destroy what she once built 
Seeming like the gods doesn't want her to win 
Nation upon nation they own creation crumble 
Kind was not no more than a chess piece design to play a role 
To quench the raising conflict of the competition

A Man For All Seasons

...for the Rev Eric Shirvell-Price


A blizzard of papers blanketed his desk.
His pipe rack stood like a chess piece, 
mutely waiting to be shifted.
Sepia toned photographs lined the mantlepiece,
like soldiers standing at attention, 
and there was a smell of stale tobacco.
Volumes and manuscripts burst
from a bookshelf, while origami figures
lined another. A coffee mug bore stains
of sherry aperitifs, and port to accompany
his after dinner cigar. Crosswords 
and limericks were everywhere, 
vestiges of his light and lively mind. 
There were newspaper articles,
and empty fast food containers, evidence
of lonely, late night dietary indiscretions.
His vestments hung limply from a coat hook
like wraiths, belying his portly frame,
the frame which now lay in a mahogany box,
a whisper of his former self, 
a shadow of the man that he once was.

Princess Sue

PRINCESS SUE
A Sedoka

                                      Princess Sue smiles pink
                                   Eyes give off bubbles of love
                                  A chess piece gets a move on
                                         The prince of Inda
                                    Comes up smiling dimple
                                Princess Sue sings voice wobbles









             Princess Sue:  Sedoka: 5-7-7-5-7-7© Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty


Troops

As we fight we die
While we live we cry

Horrors and pain
Over soldiers slain

Not just soldiers but people with lives
With sons, daughters and wives

There not just another chess piece
For without them all hope would cease 

Our military is not just a whole 
Each man has a role

The loss of one should be the same as the loss of all
We should morn those who died at our nations call

Not just go on with our day
While we ignore the price they pay

We live in our little sheltered existence
Ignorant of what goes on in the distance

People die for our way of life
And we repay them with strife




                                         2/26/09
© Enik Fox  Create an image from this poem.

Time Chaser

Standstill
Waiting still
Until the grand steal
When time stood still
In spite of legs 
Time cheats
It flies in our good times
And quantum leaps in our sleep
It crawls in our watch
And spites
It stops in our anguish
As though to prolong the pain
And our lives flash at that moment
As though to boast about our insignificance
We run the race, but it wins every time
It sets the records we chase
We own expensive watches,
But we can never own time
It is as obtainable as it is stoppable
Time moves like a chess piece
In turns and incisively
We mimic the arms of the wall clock
Of seconds chasing the minutes 
The minutes catching up to the hours
The hours exhausting their efforts into a day
And when the battery dies, it doesn’t
As though it has a spirit
What is it?
The clock tells time
And it never lies
It never fights, but rings
It’s forever on schedule because it ticks
Tasked to remind, it never forgets
To move 
With the times
The timers
Read the Times it leaves behind
To catch up, but we never do
Even if we were to travel through time
Time would be the medium and should we succeed
It would be waiting for us on the other side
To tell us what time it is

Premium Member Rotated Consciousness Polarity Is It Positive Or Not Just Negative - My Spokenword

Tears of such just this a random thought
Sadness or joys for the fleshy beating heart
Unseemly unseeking I'm not looking straight forward
Lamented chess piece ivory casted glass on the board now

In seeking my forwarded righteous mind now
Singled Godly unruly unholy
Where to buy to go around now to ask and wait process
Sets the scales of written text I'm blessed or cursed onslaught

To the point of giving transfer voluntary unexpected transfer yields
Yet the premise my emotional heart hardens I sieze take abruptly suddenly
Intense is mine hearts mind feelings of deepest affection intense joy
Turn yet the premise my feelings unguarded intent ardor passion sexual only desire

Surrender submission I to are equal higher power giving up easing all resistance
Too the point of taking deep darkening control commanding prevails
Embrace affectively close hold are minds arms in acceptance I support you
To the point of taking the unagreeable positions such side variant

In truths I am stated candor honesty genuineness validity
To the point of untruths entertain assertions decitful demoralized
Just so to avoid an punishment
Come us so together as a family a unit humbled by are Father's heart

Abuse, abated non comforting evasive indifferent 
differences sense of separation tears of such
Just this random thought ROTATED consciousness POLARITY

My givings I shall bless you versus my grabbing you don't need gimme that
My love in deems so true agape sure versus lusting sexually only
My surrender submission for holiness do diligence
Cast me not domination over others
My embracing those the hearts ceasing war gathered and ending strife

My truths in me instilled in my soul by my Father God
My lies from someone's father the devil
I speak life gathering of all God's people all His Children 
I rebuke all unwarranted senses of separations
In Jesus name
The only part of ROTATED Consciousness POLARITY I want
Is the JUST QUALITY OF JESUS HEART

11/8/22
FOR Rotate Consciousness POLARITY Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker

A Welcome Yoke

My sweetheart, you work like two keys
unlocking my shy tendencies.
Like a chess piece, your presence frees
me from myself – worst enemies. 
Your strength brings to mind young oak trees.

Your notches and grooves satisfy
need for attention, you supply.
Then securing our doors whereby
my reluctance you rectify.

On life’s chess board, we’re residents.
Castling’s allowed but your presence
guards our pawns from my reticence.

Life’s holes can still leave me depressed,  
but safe in your limbs I find rest.

You lift me high, my steady oak.

Melting in your arms, I unfreeze,
my king, my defense, my great guy.
Your keys fit the lock common sense.
We are a team, we’ve coalesced;
all’s kept in check under your yoke.


written March 29, 2018

Stranger

I'm a suspect, a suspect in this mystery
but this case is incomplete
This isn't how it's supposed to be
this: a foreign word but I need to know, need to know this
what is this
Is the stranger me now
the stranger in this picture, in this frame
this falling frame that I'm deeming incomplete
I am this incomplete masterpiece
that everyone, everyone thinks they can control
they can manipulate like a chess piece or movable stone
but I'm neither one, I'm myself
Chasing a light in this firefight
in a moment that's passed, it passed...
I'm a suspect, I'm a suspect
a suspect in this mystery, do you not know me breathlessly I scream
but this case is incomplete, am I invisible
This isn't how it's supposed to be, everything's wrong
this, this, this; a problem carved into brick
A foreign word but I need to know, I need to know
why have I turned cold as ice
what is this
Is the stranger me, the stranger in this picture
in this still frame, am I insane
in this still frame that's falling
falling away in this, in this, in this

Chess Piece

I couldnt question the icy cold
the mystic mass, on a boiling road

Pawn to pawn i see your eyes
your every move a mere disguise
i am not here to take your life
but here to show our will to fight

as pieces fall and heads collide
our trusted run, so called allies.
from what is true, a smoking breath
only i stood fast as i lay to rest

only then could i hear her whisper
the calming song that churned and twisted
a life relived, i dubbed serene
The widened eyes, that saw nothing.

the crown of jewels, of which we boast
falls and crumbles to useless dust
for as our soldiers turn to run
the kingdom burns, the game is won

gasoline wont smell as sweet
as when youre one step closer to defeat
match for match, not one is willing
an empty room, karma is winning

empty pens and crumbled paper
that build the realm of a useless fable
honest men breed pure reaction
yet suffer misinterpretation
follow suit, crude ridicule
and earn your status, succumbing fool

Premium Member About the Great Poets Here

(my friends i wrote the piece below in one long exhale. i did not change a word but 
rather let it sit as it fell. could the writing be improved. yes it could but why try to 
create a masterpiece when finger painting is so much fun. you have greeted me with 
wide open arms. you have been a great support at a stressful time in my life. so here 
it is from my heart to yours.)


they are those who ride us on their backs
 send us on journeys to places they built
one chess piece at a time

they put into words 
what we knew 
but could not say

why am I telling you this

there are wonderful poets here

choose a dish
 visit their buffets
taste more than one feel
give it a whirl

experience worlds you'll never find on a mac
visit their vivid dreams
drive one of their soap bubbles
ski on the end of a needle and thread

discover the barely open doors
the naked flesh between the creases
 displays lined in scrap paper
that one can absorb eyes closed

crawl  under and over the sea
tunnel the milky way to a brand new galaxy
witness a sky that like curtains part
peak at what is on the other side

life is short play nude
spend a bitty bit of time 
with bitty bits of folksy folks
 on a striped colored blur 

they are special the poets who live here
so do yourself a flavor 
put on your roller blades 
and go for the tricycle ride of your life

here is the best part and get this
(i hope your holding your breath
and turning red white and blue)
some of their poems rhyme
some of them even use styles

here comes the huge reveal
( unlike me who is not really a poet
and doesn't actually know it)
they use good grammar
extensive vocabularies
and here's the kicker
capital letters
and proper punctuation 

go figure
which they also use
well that figures

there are great poets here
you do yourself a disfavor 
if you're only here to write
and not here to read

Crossroads

...for the Rev Eric Shirvell-Price


A blizzard of papers blanketed his desk.
His pipe rack stood like a chess piece, 
mutely waiting to be shifted.
Sepia toned photographs lined the mantlepiece,
like soldiers standing at attention, 
and there was a smell of stale tobacco.
Volumes and manuscripts burst
from a bookshelf, while origami figures
lined another. A coffee mug bore stains
of sherry aperitifs, and port to accompany
his after dinner cigar. Crosswords 
and limericks were everywhere, 
vestiges of his light and lively mind. 
There were newspaper articles,
and empty fast food containers, evidence
of lonely, late night dietary indiscretions.
His vestments hung limply from a coat hook
like wraiths, belying his portly frame.
the frame which now lay in a mahogany box,
a whisper of his former self, 
a shadow of the man that he once was.

Memorial

...for the Rev Eric Shirvell-Price


A blizzard of papers blanketed his desk.
His pipe rack stood like a chess piece, 
mutely waiting to be shifted.
Sepia toned photographs lined the mantlepiece,
like soldiers standing at attention, 
and there was a smell of stale tobacco.
Volumes and manuscripts burst
from a bookshelf, while origami figures
lined another. A coffee mug bore stains
of sherry aperitifs, and port to accompany
his after dinner cigar. Crosswords 
and limericks were everywhere, 
vestiges of his light and lively mind. 
There were newspaper articles,
and empty fast food containers, evidence
of lonely, late night dietary indiscretions.
His vestments hung limply from a coat hook
like wraiths, belying his portly frame.
the frame which now lay in a mahogany box,
a whisper of his former self, 
a shadow of the man that he once was.

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