General
24 Aug 07
24 Aug 07
Oh, to express, with worthy stress,
And real success, the heartiness
With which I bless the manliness
And charm of chess.
For who can guess what broad excess
Of steadiness and thoughtfulness
One must possess, so that success
May crown one’s chess?
And I confess that no duress,
Or dire distress, could e’er repress
The eagerness with which I press
To play at chess.
No pitiless fair sorceress,
By soft caress, or looks or dress,
Could dispossess me of my, – yes!
My love of chess.
24 Aug 07
Originally posted by AttilaTheHornI must confess,
Oh, to express, with worthy stress,
And real success, the heartiness
With which I bless the manliness
And charm of chess.
For who can guess what broad excess
Of steadiness and thoughtfulness
One must possess, so that success
May crown one’s chess?
And I confess that no duress,
Or dire distress, could e’er repress
The eagerness with which ...[text shortened]... eress,
By soft caress, or looks or dress,
Could dispossess me of my, – yes!
My love of chess.
that does depress.
24 Aug 07
Originally posted by duecerI don't think it's helpful to be attacking someone. If you don't like my post, then say so, but give me a logical thoughtful reason why you don't like it. Then maybe we'll both learn something, and be further ahead as a result of courtesy and respect. 🙂
what the hell is wrong with you?😠😛😠
24 Aug 07
Originally posted by AttilaTheHornisn't a poem supposed to induce an emotional response, not logical?
I don't think it's helpful to be attacking someone. If you don't like my post, then say so, but give me a logical thoughtful reason why you don't like it. Then maybe we'll both learn something, and be further ahead as a result of courtesy and respect. 🙂
I left a message for my editor to send copies of the contracts
to my new agent,
and then I read a passage about how no one talks
about chess anymore, and the old life came back to me,
it was early yet, I hadn't played chess for years,
I was one of the few rural junkies in the nation,
one of the few who tended cattle, there I was
nodding on a rock as the cows, stiff with unendurable shyness,
stumbled up to me. My wife and I would eat mashed potatoes
from the pot and lie out on the porch smoking reefer
until it got too dark to see. I bought drugs
from my friend at the railroad repair depot
just off the main line from Norfolk, Indochinese material,
Long Bin—to Guam—to Fort Ord—to VA—then by Mr. Fixit train to me,
traveling in a nylon medic's bag. I never trusted
the supply—like love—it could dwindle,
or simply give way,
the flexed utensil, like one of those measuring sticks
you unfold and lay across a map; anybody could step on it.
I loved the graciousness of chess, the way everything externalized
and obvious in the daylight opened its shirt and revealed its soft pale breasts.
The world slept curled in its own foolhardiness.
And my wife came over the blankets to me and seemed
not to mind who I was. We inserted words
into spaces in the rain. For years I remembered the words
and whispered them to myself, half thinking I might
conjure her back into the world. They never caught us.
We missed them on the way to Mexico, to Puebla,
where eventually the line gave out. We slept on a bench outside a church.
It was two days before she died without regaining consciousness,
as I say in the memoir they are paying me handsomely for.
(yea I ripped it off)
24 Aug 07
Originally posted by AttilaTheHornUhhh?..'cause your poem sucked dude😕
I don't think it's helpful to be attacking someone. If you don't like my post, then say so, but give me a logical thoughtful reason why you don't like it. Then maybe we'll both learn something, and be further ahead as a result of courtesy and respect. 🙂