The Dead Queen In Hands.

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Blog Post About This Poem – Read This Before Reading The Poem.

In black and white in patience they stood,
Loyal guards of the knights, bishops, queen and king.
Power changes with position in the squares,
As the pawns stood, bare naked to take the hits.

Minds strategized each and every move,
With pride and honor of each position they fought,
Pawns, bishops, and knights fell but the queen stood,
And fought for the king with all her might.

A step aside, ahead or back he moved,
All in the watchful eyes of the queen’s protection,
Minds boggled to make moves ahead,
The fallen, the exchanged ah’ warmed the blood.

The rooks held the corners and, they moved,
Sacrificing for the knights, bishops and queen.
Pawns a step at a time moved and with every move,
Gained more power when at the other side they reached.

When all is lost one side declared checkmate,
As no more can that queen protect her loved king.
The lost king in rejection and dejection retreated,
Facing the pry of a faceless monster of disgrace.

Oh’ I looked at the chessboard again and again,
And thought again and again about the wrongs,
Nothing wrong I found in any move I made.
All I found were stranger than anything I know.

Every time into a relationship I moved,
Precise planning and wonderful things I do,
In a chess game the moment the queen dies,
The king’s trouble is not much moves he can make.

As for me, the last time thought of relationship I began,
Life’s fast-moving fate delivered a dead queen in my hands.

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