Chess Poetry

The Chesse Playe by Nicholas Breton (1542-1626)

THE KING

The King himself is haughtie care,
Which ouerlooketh all his men,
And when he seeth how they fare,
He steps among them now and then,
Whom when his foe presumes to checke,
His seruants stand, to giue the necke.

THE QUEENE

The Queene is queint, and quicke conceit,
Which makes her walke which way she list,
Ans rootes them up, that lie in wait,
To worke hir treason ere she wist:
Hir force is such against her foes,
That whom she meets, she ouerthrowes...

THE PAWNES

The Rookes poore Pawnes, are sillie swaines,
Which seldom serue, except by hap,
and yet those Pawns, can lay their traines,
To catch a great man, in a trap:
So that I see, sometime a groome
May not be spared from his roome.

THE KNIGHT

The Knight is knowledge how to fight
against his Princes enimies,
He neuer makes his walke outright,
But leaps and skips, in wilie wise,
To take by sleight a traitrous foe,
Might slilie seek their ouerthrowe.

THE BISHOP

The Bishop he is wittie braine,
That chooseth crossest pathes to pace,
And euermore he pries with paine,
To see who seekes him most disgrace:
Such straglers when he findes astaie,
He takes them up, and throws awaie.

THE ROOKES

The Rookes are reason on both sides,
Which keepe the corner houses still,
And warily stand to watch their tides,
By secret art to worke their will,
To take sometime a theefe unseen,
Might mischiefe mean to King or Queene."

---

Chess Poem
by C. A. Escoffery
(w. 1936)


The Pawn

The lowly pawn,
Goes on and on,
Seeking a surrender;
The opponent's pawn
Meanwhile comes on,
To try and clip her fender.

Cautiously forward,
Yet steadily onward,
In slowly, measured feet,
The pawn's aware
Of danger there,
Yet never will retreat.

Unless, of course,
When things get worse,
She tries a "pas dansant,"
Then a pawn nearby
Will obliquely sigh
And apply the "en passant."

She may, some day,
Go all the way,
Her forward file now clean,
And in fair play
Rise up and say,
"The Pawn becomes a Queen!"

The Knight

The gallant knight pursues the fight
With pseudo-octagonal vectors:
On stalwart steed, he doth proceed
To leap o'er nearby sectors.
And once he's got a vantage spot,
He'll settle in and mortify.
He may be fickle, but let a pawn tickle:
You'll see the horse fly!

The Bishop

While diagonally moving on a slant of his own,
He may lurk in a corner and pounce whilst you moan!
Bishops come in two colors, black and white;
Although clergy, they're keen for a fight,
Together, they're a steely bishop double:
So be warned: they can really dish up trouble!


The Rook

Learning his moves is really no hassle
Except that you need to know how to castle.
The rook may be upright, just like a tower,
And, like the Queen, he may make us cower.
Though he never cuts corners, don’t let him spook you.
Just be on your guard, or else he may rook you.



The Queen

La donna è mobile (she sure gets around!)
And in midst of the battle she'll generally be found.
Yet her greatest ambition is that brilliant device
Known to most players as the Queen Sacrifice,
Which is really not difficult, so I hear tell,
But whenever I try it my game goes to . . . Well,
We can't all be Masters, but maybe someday
I'll have studied and practiced and learned how to play!

The King

No praise for the king: Why he's just a square
Who is sheltered and pampered through most of the game;
If his men win, he grabs the full share,
But just let them lose and who gets the blame? !

The Board

I am played upon and prayed upon,
By players proving mental brawn,
Who often get into such a state
That they start to argue and debate,
Whence I, usually in a drawer holed up,
Will then (like Arab tents) just silently fold up.