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Poetry from within


Faced across a field of squares, opponents make a stand

Whilst strategies are weighed within a gambit to perform

Goodly white advances on the horde with black intent

Attacking their defences, probing weaknesses to breach

Pawns of eight abreast take turns with recce’s to the front

One or two steps forward, ‘tis all that they know how

Parried by a line of equal measure, backed by forces dark unspent

Black knights of the realm await their chance, in ‘L’ shaped form to vent'

A sacrificial offering, cut down by mounted charge

A never ending bloodshed, espied by castle rooks from rear

Knights of table round in white, charge out from Camelot

In saving fodder from their lot, doth prayer’s from bishops hear

May God protect them in their quest to rout this evil breed

Break through the ranks and venture forth to seize their royal prize

Queen of night breaks rank in hope of turning heads, to no avail

The end games nigh approaching, with encroachment on the castle walls

The Good King sallies forth secure upon his noble steed

His Lady Fair of golden hair protected on all sides

Beaten forces lay down arms and pray it’s not too late

For mercy when the cry goes out, from King to King it's now, "Check Mate"

Richard Gildea