The Chess Game Poem by Deepta Protik Osman

I


The chess played I with him,
In moon, so round, bound, play we.
Black was he,
Evil as dark.
White was I,
Light of the world.
Played he and me,
Life and death
In the heath,
Played he and me.
Wild was I
And mild was he,
As played with me-he, hours and hours
With minutes and minutes,
Passed with big silence,
Played we
The chess game.
Played, we back
And then he ran,
When back was me
And chess stayed same
Since it was a draw game,
Failed to show that I am not lame
to him,
Since he thought it as we played in the dim,
For he said it in a scream,
And full moon, that time, white as light, a cream,
To shatter my dream, his-not a dream:
Irony to success, or not
Heard from a saint, not or yes,
Let God rise a way from middle
This will be, next night, riddle.



2


The next day played we,
Since we bet it, when met.
In the morning we played
The same old.
White was he,
The after old.
Black was I,
The after gold.
Passed the every
Chanced to dance,
Danced our hands
Dress of chess,
Which is the
Dress of brain.
The same of old every
Drew another draw.
And ran away we both.
Wild was I
And mild was he.

III

On midnight
This time, played we.
I was mild
And he was wild.
Afterpath chanced,
Who will dance.
White was I, forever light
And you must the next,
Since it was his pretext,
To choose dark as balck.
Played like a thunder,
But he was calm
Like a sugar palm.
Played the same, the game
Like this passed, when discovered.
On and off
Played we.
Mild was I, speed,
And wild was he, slow.
Played both, in midnight, with nothing to fear
Since we won’t, from it, hear.
Ends the game soon,
And then won I!
He screamed, since the new lame
Of fame in school,
He worked out, fool!
Then went he and me
Back to home.

10th August,2008