Chessboard

A poem about chess

Photo credit: Flickr CC jamesnorth2

By Eric Miller

He presses the dial,
The clock counts down,
The turn is mine.

My loyal pawns scattered about,
The royal family protected
In a strong, sturdy line.

     Tick tock.

I scan the board,
My men, his men
On the battlefield.

One must march forth,
To sit or kill,
With the blade he wields.

    Tick tock.

How do I make this final stand?
Will my knight prance on,
Will the rook rein its might?

Should my bishop charge across,
A pawn to give his life,
The queen’s march to turn the board white?

     Tick tock.

The king is boxed in a corner,
Flanked by two servants,
Unable to escape fate.

One move can lose a man,
But it can also turn the tide
As I yell out checkmate.

     Tick tock.
     Tick tock.
     Tick tock.
     Silence.

 

Eric Miller is a freshman History Major at Worcester State. Contact him at emiller6@worcester.edu.

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