Long Pawns Poems
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The ageless chessboard at the dawn of time
Once welcomed Life and Death— a round of game,
Life made first move and said in silent mime:
How smart! Ye make my every move so lame.
Death sighed, I still can’t quite seeds of Life tame,
Ye white, me black, we play from times so prime,
We both have grown worthy of our fair name,
And so the game goes on from ancient time.
Destiny, mute witness, smiled a wise smile:
Friends, Nature’s game is too dire to divine,
Two parts of a coin, pawns as if of His guile,
Your job’s to play, enjoy, and fall in line.
Allies on a steering wheel, you’re no foes,
Enjoy and help enjoy the game as goes.
_____________________________________________
Sonnets |03.08.2021|
Poet’s note: The octave, all of four pairs of the same rhyme, indicates that Life and Death play an equal game, no one winning, no one losing, none conceding. In a sestet Destiny intervenes as if to make a truce; the sonnet-ending couplet announcing the last verdict.
They live in a world of illusions
Gripping onto their beliefs
Weaving a web of lies
Steering their journey through the tide
Are guardians of their pride
Masses who follow their rules
Followers of the deceitful fib
Enjoy a life of ease
The ones who supply them
With their fabricated visions
Shape their lives with lead
Are masters of this creed
But those who dare to speak the truth
Are victims of their dreaded cruelty
As a testimony of the act of defiance
Ruthlessly slaughtered in public
Hanged on the gallows of death
So, with their minds full of illusions
They dream of world domination
Or are pawns of a larger game
Leading to this devastating end.
You can't remember how things used to be
before this business with the ring began.
’Twas on display where all who passed could see;
under its spell, you broke the glass and ran.
With neither explanation nor a need,
you set your prize inside your trophy case.
It seems the ring has once again been freed;
just last week, someone broke into your place.
So here you are, discretely cruising pawns,
unfathomably captured by this gem.
Worse, now you know you're one of many Johns;
bereft, yet joined to some strange diadem.
Detached and disconnected, you push through;
you're never truly lost… The ring finds you.
————-
for the One in Five Poetry Contest
sponsored by Joseph May
written on 07/03/2022
Cricketers playing on the lawn
White figures on the grass
The rhapsody of ringing phones
Is heard as passers pass
It’s just the picture of a large
Idyllic sunny day
Uneven shadows on the marge
Are also in the play
No pawns to sacrifice for kings
No queens rampaging free
The game looks peaceful, so it brings
A sense of peace to me
What if I tell them how their play
I see – you’re out of mind,
Get real, man, to me they’ll say
Its not a pantomime
We’re two competing teams, we came
To win and not to lose
And that’s the purpose of the game
We play not to amuze
Some idle fools that hang around
Not knowing what to do
Come down on the solid ground
That should be good for you
Thanks for advice, I like your game
But honestly, for me
Both teams of yours look quite the same
I’d say, before I flee
So really, what’s the point to know
The aim, all tricks and rules
If they are setting on a show
That looks like peace for fools.
Society tries to determine for us what is right and what is wrong
And we are like pawns on a chess board just trying to play along
But it’s the rebel in us that they just don’t understand
As human being we refuse to just sit back and except all their demands
It is said to believe that all man are created equal
But there is a certain sence of control that resides in some people
In the end we will be judge by which we stand
And not by how well we were able to obey their commands
Yet there are some that live life without breaking any of the rules
Because they feel that there is nothing they have to prove
And then there are us with hearts that have no reguard
we live life as if there is no one in charge
As individuals we are suppose to take the world by storm
Or are you seriously ok with just being a pawn
If we sleep on opportunity how will we ever advance
Because there is not enough room in this world for a second chance
So we can choose to sit around and not use our voice
But God did give us freewill that means we do have a choice
First Placing : Poetry Marathon 2025
Sponsor: Mark Toney
{ FREEDOM “We may want to linger, to stay, to arrest the flow and talk about it, photograph it, lyricize it. Yet this beauty is mercurial and we must let it go, for it is already slipping away to be replaced by the new.” -Stuart Sovatsky }
YELLOW FIELD OF WHEAT
Angel of Death skims blacker than tar
a skeletal knock overturning bowl of oats
smelling of frankincense and ashes
to carry you to a yellow field of wheat
where you will dance radiant waltzes
haloed free
your laughter pranced across blue walls with
Michael Jackson, Spider-Man, cheeky elves
relishing Kentucky Fried Chicken as you
played scrabble with forlorn neighbour
bony body birthing revolutions of
roulette with green life and grey death
how you endured those precision needles
wanting to drum tapered fingers on
waiting desk overflowing with car sketches
your thirteen year old bald head smiling
veins on an enchanting spring moon as our
hidden tears crystallised hospital sheets
we tried to keep up with you scoffing
encyclopaedias, Dickens and muffins alike
cancer like a chess game mastered chemo
doctors and nurses becoming kings or pawns
time was now or endless pathos stalking minds
Laurel and Hardy keeping hearts unlocked
on Merlin’s star-patterned couch you will
jokingly converse with Pele and his team
soccer ball silent under quiescent table
my ink cannot pen sad lines as I feel
your lips still sucking dripping nipple
freedom moonwalks on a
yellow field of wheat
Chess vs. Zelda
I took one too many moves in chess
Then fell in love with Zelda
And in the end the games go on
Both king and queen maneuvers mate
To Link us to the past and Zelda’s grasp
Then swept us up
In a twilight princess dance
Knights come out and castles move
To gentle ocarina tunes
Of Time….in time
Pawns move up then side to side
Decide on bishops or a queen to kill
Behind Majora’s mask and hour glass
Our wills move on
Beyond the chess board landscape
Windwaker takes the sails and breath away
And skyward sword advances
It's only games
And Chess is fine
But Zelda’s always in my heart and mind
She dances there forever
Each longs to obtain
fifteen minutes of fame.
Pawns in play,
simpleton on display.
Farcical amusement
from slapstick humans.
Spectacles in a petri dish,
slaves to their lavishments.
Analyzed and watched—
spare no expense… at what cost?
A muse for their “entertainment,”
to be the fodder at their "banquet."
Plans to steal, kill, and destroy—
bartering your soul to deploy.
Creating the pandemonium;
whence comes regurgitated solutions?
Governed by the unseen legion,
sheeple blinded by fabricated freedom.
That fifteen minutes of wantingness
now seeks solitude… and will find none.
They dressed me in dust and called it a uniform,
Handed me thunder stitched in steel,
Told me the sky breaks different
When you pull the trigger.
I was nineteen,
Still dreaming in my mother’s accent,
Still soft in the places
They'd soon carve into callous.
War, they said, was order—
A hymn of strategy and sweat,
A chessboard with bones for bishops
And pawns that bleed.
But I watched boys burst like overripe fruit,
Watched a man try to pack his insides back in,
Fingers fumbling like he’d dropped his keys,
The lock already gone.
We marched through villages
That smelled of burnt hair and children's toys,
And I learnt that silence
Has many screams beneath it.
There is no glory in a crater.
No justice in a bootprint.
Just the cold arithmetic of survival:
You breathe, or you don’t.
They taught us to paint targets
On anything that moved wrong,
Like humanity was a colouring book
And we’d run out of gray.
I shot a man once.
He looked surprised.
Like he had just remembered something—
His daughter's name,
The soup cooling on the stove.
And the method?
It was madness polished to procedure.
A doctrine etched in blood
And laminated in lies.
Now, at night,
I still hear the cadence of gunfire,
A lullaby in Morse code.
Sometimes I hum along.
Because there’s a rhythm to ruin,
A beat to the breaking.
And once you’ve danced in that tempo—
God help you—
You never stop hearing the song.
the judging gatekeepers
wear power like a veil
it`s a drug that
these junkies feed upon
they feed
and feed
and say anything to get their fix
as the masses believe
and then adhere
they play their games
as the pawns are sacrificed
so they can have their gain
their democracy is just an illusion
with every drop of blood they feed
an hunger that will linger for eternity
a game of follow the leader
is at hand
like a herd of sheep
one another they follow
into the slaughter room
doom
the judging gatekeepers
let unity explode
the divide grows and grows
united we stand
divide we fall
a quote we all know
a quote they want to destroy
as they set the divide wheels in motion
and the blind remains blind
democracy is just an illusion
you are free to do as you please
the puppet master tells the puppet
while he pulls its strings
control
out of the light
a calm voice spins
but if you listen closely
his words fall like bricks
and leads into
a life of fear
but time has passed
the hourglass sand has ended
the cage has surrounded the captured
the dream becomes a nightmare
but when life is seen
inside the black clouds
where fire flames burn
but leaves no physical scars
ignorance is believed to be a power
and delusions is the truth
the mirage fogs reality
democracy is just an illusion
cloaked in all his misconception
the deceiver hides the truth
and then sells it as virtue
poison he spits
as he calls it the truth
it becomes the narrative line
and it is repeated over time
until its soaked up
sponge like
it seeps
and it seeps
into the sleeping minds
to their distorted truth
inside the dark a lone zombie screams
and realizes he`s been sleepwalking
now...he`s awaken