Checkers Poem by L MILTON HANKINS
Checkers
Nobody plays a good game of checkers anymore,
Squared off like fierce, ruthless fiends
Hunched over, hypnotized by crowned kings
And heavy losses spent of jubilee
You can't plug in a checkerboard
Or marvel at the clink, clink, clink
Of counting blips against green bumpers,
Though a black can disappear like magic
Beneath a sweeping scarred and reddened hand.
Nobody plays a good game of checkers anymore.
I remember enjoying checkers very much, as well as other board games. But I can't remember when I last played. A great, insightful poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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3/5/2025 5:18:51 PM # 1.0.0
WHO is " hypnotized by" WHOSE " crowned kings" ? i don't 'get' " spent of jubilee" . Checkers was one of many games my female neighbor friend/playmate and i played, at her house, many a day as we were growing up till i moved across town at about age 14. Our time together probably tapered off a lot in the 'last years'. " bumpers" pinball? " a black" ? checker or a person (nah!) bri :)