Version II: Absolute Defeat
The day my father beat my grandfather
at chess was the last time they played the game -
that unforgiving pastime. I recall
how my dad would turn purple in his rage
at all life’s disappointments. We are yet
a stubborn breed, and kick against the pricks.
In chess, defeat your enemy – and not
in partial victory, but absolute.
Remove his pieces one by one, and take
command of the board’s space until his king
is at a loss for refuge. When my dad
would play me, we began unevenly –
he’d spot me queen or rook or knight, until
the days we played chess evenly at last.
My grandpa I played checkers with, in my
tiger pajamas. I was maybe five,
and we picked grapefruit from the trees outside
in Texas heat, he with his speech machine
and cigarettes, I with my youthful looks.
We walked around the property. I have
his hammer to this day, though it has been
some fifty years. I sometimes take a board
to play chess with my son, though I have lost
what skill I had in absolute defeat.
Version I: Absolute Defeat
The day my father beat my grandfather
at chess was the last time they played the game -
an unforgiving pastime. I recall
how my dad would go purple in his rage
at all life’s disappointments. We are all
a stubborn breed, we kick against the pricks.
In chess, defeat your enemy. And not
in partial victory, but absolute.
Remove his pieces one by one, and take
command of the board’s space until his king
is at a loss for refuge. When my dad
would play me, we began unevenly –
he’d spot me queen or rook or knight, until
the day we played chess evenly at last.
My grandpa I played checkers with, in my
tiger pajamas. I was maybe five,
and we picked grapefruit from the trees outside
in Texas heat, he with his speech machine
and cigarettes, I with my youthful looks.
We walked around the property. I have
his hammer to this day, though it has been
some fifty years. I sometimes take a board
to play chess with my son, though I have lost
what skill I had at absolute defeat.
Absolute Defeat
Hi John,
Mac's an online chess demon I believe so I reckon this'll please him.
I'm liking the idea of absolute defeat and losing the skill. Some of the nostalgic detail is very cute too.
My grandpa, I played checkers with, in my
tiger pajamas. I was maybe five,
and we picked grapefruit from the trees outside
in Texas heat, he with his speech machine
Do you need the commas after with and five? They don't look right to me but I'm no punctuation expert.
Mac's an online chess demon I believe so I reckon this'll please him.
I'm liking the idea of absolute defeat and losing the skill. Some of the nostalgic detail is very cute too.
My grandpa, I played checkers with, in my
tiger pajamas. I was maybe five,
and we picked grapefruit from the trees outside
in Texas heat, he with his speech machine
Do you need the commas after with and five? They don't look right to me but I'm no punctuation expert.
-
NotQuiteSure
- Perspicacious Poster
- Posts: 3514
- Joined: Wed Dec 28, 2016 4:05 pm
Hi John,
just to follow on from Morph and the punctuation he picked out. I agree, this reads as if it is your grandpa (as opposed to your grandfather) who is wearing your tiger pyjamas (which, I suspect, wasn't the case.)
at chess was the last time they played. It is
Baffled by this. The line ends at played. The inclusion of 'it is' just seems nonsensical and makes for an unappealing read.
Regards, Not
.
just to follow on from Morph and the punctuation he picked out. I agree, this reads as if it is your grandpa (as opposed to your grandfather) who is wearing your tiger pyjamas (which, I suspect, wasn't the case.)
at chess was the last time they played. It is
Baffled by this. The line ends at played. The inclusion of 'it is' just seems nonsensical and makes for an unappealing read.
Regards, Not
.
Hi Morph, hi Not,
Morph: Chess is a great game! Yes, I’ve seen Phil comment about chess.
Absolute defeat is chess, isn’t it? And yes, I just shuffle pieces around the board these days. Glad you like the nostalgic detail!
Some commas gone to avoid what you and Not noticed here – thanks!
Not: Commas mended.
Yes, that line was ugly. I’ve tinkered with it and the following line (a bit) to tidy them up, perhaps to your satisfaction?
Cheers both,
John
NB I'm inclined to replace God Sonnet by this in my collection. Any thoughts, folks? I think it's more appealing!
Morph: Chess is a great game! Yes, I’ve seen Phil comment about chess.
Absolute defeat is chess, isn’t it? And yes, I just shuffle pieces around the board these days. Glad you like the nostalgic detail!
Some commas gone to avoid what you and Not noticed here – thanks!
Not: Commas mended.
Yes, that line was ugly. I’ve tinkered with it and the following line (a bit) to tidy them up, perhaps to your satisfaction?
Cheers both,
John
NB I'm inclined to replace God Sonnet by this in my collection. Any thoughts, folks? I think it's more appealing!
-
NotQuiteSure
- Perspicacious Poster
- Posts: 3514
- Joined: Wed Dec 28, 2016 4:05 pm
Hi John.
perhaps to your satisfaction?
Gotta admire an optimist
Absolute Defeat ....... Not keen on the title (don't think I understand it) as the subject seems to be losing gracefully (or possibly learning to.)
The day my father beat my grandfather ............ great opening (but 'father' becomes 'dad' in the rest of the poem, and 'grandfather' 'grandpa - assuming they were the same man - the inconsistencies just seem form driven.)
at chess was the last time they played the game - ... it's better than before, but not the finished product ... yet.
would be the last time they ever played chess.
- Ideally there'd be a bit more about the game and its aftermath, the next line feels like the start of a new verse, to me.
An unforgiving pastime. I recall
[]It is such an unforgiving pastime.[/i]
how my dad would go purple in his rage ......... I'm not following this. When did you see him lose at chess? Surely it was the grandfather who lost, and would therefore have been the one most likely to behave poorly?
Also, it seems you switched from chess to life and I can't make the same leap.
at all life’s disappointments. We are all ............ two 'alls' in this line, and one of them doesn't play well with the earlier 'recall'. And another 'ugly line ending. Also, I can't tell who 'we' are. All of us humans, or just the men in your family?
Surely there's a chess metaphor to be exploited here?
a stubborn breed, we kick against the pricks. ........ Not sure what the pricks are in this context (I know the proverb) - feels like a diversion rather than an exploration.
In chess, defeat your enemy. And not ......... same objection as before. The line ends at enemy.
in partial victory, but absolute.
Remove his pieces one by one, and take
command of the board’s space until his king ...... you discount drawing?
is at a loss for refuge. When my dad
would play me, we began unevenly – ........ for chess player I don't think this verse adds anything. And for non-chess players it doesn't explain enough. I'd cut it. (Also 'we began unevenly' doesn't need to be said. How else does a novice begin against one more experienced?)
he’d spot me queen or rook or knight, until
the day we played chess evenly at last. .......... And then what? I think you're omitting the most important part. You can't begin with your purple dad and then gloss over his first defeat here. Did he teach you, or was it your grandpa? My neighbour essentially taught me to play. I'd go round to her house every Friday night and be trounced. Week after week. And then one week (some three years later) I won. It was a most unsettling experience and I don't think your 'evenly at last' captures it.
My grandpa I played checkers with, in my
tiger pyjamas. I was maybe five,
and we picked grapefruit from the trees outside
in Texas heat, he with his speech machine .................. it's interesting, but what does it have to do with the rest of the poem?
and cigarettes, I with my youthful looks.
We walked around the property. I have
his hammer to this day, though it has been ......... I've also got a hammer that belonged to my grandfather. Keep on meaning to write about it but it becomes sexual almost immediately. It's the word 'shaft' that does it.
some fifty years. I sometimes take a board
to play chess with my son, though I have lost
what skill I had at absolute defeat. ............ This feels like an afterthought, rather than the whole verse it should be.
At the centre of the poem, for me, is the line 'the last time they ever played ...' It raised the question did your father play with you after you beat him? And what does the last line mean in terms of you playing chess with your son. There's an implication that you are turning into as poor a loser as your grandfather.
I'm inclined to replace God Sonnet by this in my collection.
For me, both require work, but of the two this one is, as you say, the more appealing.
Regards, Not
perhaps to your satisfaction?
Gotta admire an optimist
Absolute Defeat ....... Not keen on the title (don't think I understand it) as the subject seems to be losing gracefully (or possibly learning to.)
The day my father beat my grandfather ............ great opening (but 'father' becomes 'dad' in the rest of the poem, and 'grandfather' 'grandpa - assuming they were the same man - the inconsistencies just seem form driven.)
at chess was the last time they played the game - ... it's better than before, but not the finished product ... yet.
would be the last time they ever played chess.
- Ideally there'd be a bit more about the game and its aftermath, the next line feels like the start of a new verse, to me.
An unforgiving pastime. I recall
[]It is such an unforgiving pastime.[/i]
how my dad would go purple in his rage ......... I'm not following this. When did you see him lose at chess? Surely it was the grandfather who lost, and would therefore have been the one most likely to behave poorly?
Also, it seems you switched from chess to life and I can't make the same leap.
at all life’s disappointments. We are all ............ two 'alls' in this line, and one of them doesn't play well with the earlier 'recall'. And another 'ugly line ending. Also, I can't tell who 'we' are. All of us humans, or just the men in your family?
Surely there's a chess metaphor to be exploited here?
a stubborn breed, we kick against the pricks. ........ Not sure what the pricks are in this context (I know the proverb) - feels like a diversion rather than an exploration.
In chess, defeat your enemy. And not ......... same objection as before. The line ends at enemy.
in partial victory, but absolute.
Remove his pieces one by one, and take
command of the board’s space until his king ...... you discount drawing?
is at a loss for refuge. When my dad
would play me, we began unevenly – ........ for chess player I don't think this verse adds anything. And for non-chess players it doesn't explain enough. I'd cut it. (Also 'we began unevenly' doesn't need to be said. How else does a novice begin against one more experienced?)
he’d spot me queen or rook or knight, until
the day we played chess evenly at last. .......... And then what? I think you're omitting the most important part. You can't begin with your purple dad and then gloss over his first defeat here. Did he teach you, or was it your grandpa? My neighbour essentially taught me to play. I'd go round to her house every Friday night and be trounced. Week after week. And then one week (some three years later) I won. It was a most unsettling experience and I don't think your 'evenly at last' captures it.
My grandpa I played checkers with, in my
tiger pyjamas. I was maybe five,
and we picked grapefruit from the trees outside
in Texas heat, he with his speech machine .................. it's interesting, but what does it have to do with the rest of the poem?
and cigarettes, I with my youthful looks.
We walked around the property. I have
his hammer to this day, though it has been ......... I've also got a hammer that belonged to my grandfather. Keep on meaning to write about it but it becomes sexual almost immediately. It's the word 'shaft' that does it.
some fifty years. I sometimes take a board
to play chess with my son, though I have lost
what skill I had at absolute defeat. ............ This feels like an afterthought, rather than the whole verse it should be.
At the centre of the poem, for me, is the line 'the last time they ever played ...' It raised the question did your father play with you after you beat him? And what does the last line mean in terms of you playing chess with your son. There's an implication that you are turning into as poor a loser as your grandfather.
I'm inclined to replace God Sonnet by this in my collection.
For me, both require work, but of the two this one is, as you say, the more appealing.
Regards, Not
Hi Not,
I like the title! Though maybe it needs an s. It’s really about being competitive. I have a brother who won’t play board games for this reason, and I now play them rarely. Hence, the switch from chess to life. I find my grandpa’s act resonant.
I think the shift from formal to informal is OK – the one is for the public, the other, me reminiscing.
I’ve tinkered with those two lines. We’re going through the generations, all with their problems in competition and indeed in victory or defeat. I think yet does some work here – the we is my family’s men. All is gone. I think I can just come back to chess later (as I do).
The pricks for me tie in to the disappointments. Little things taken to heart, like Saul kicking.
I’ve tweaked the enemy line. And yes, I discount drawing since my focus is the victory/defeat antinomy and how it’s handled.
The progression of pieces offered I think speaks to the years of play. And then evenly at last, as you say, carries the implication of victory, with to my ear a hint that my dad did not then immediately quit. For non-players, I think “he’d spot me” explain what’s going on.
Myabe days would improve on day, to stress how my dad didn’t quit after evenly matched defeat. He had learned that lesson. I like your story about your neighbor. Oh, and mhy grandpa I played checkers with, as specified.
His speech machine has no bearing on the rest of the poem except to show our gap in age and add flavor in so doing. Yup, hammers. Tricky things, though very solid.
I’ve tweaked the ending, maybe for the better. it’s the competition that bothers me, in defeat and in victory.I hope to have avoided the implication that I am just a poor loser.
Thanks very much for your help with this poem,
John
I like the title! Though maybe it needs an s. It’s really about being competitive. I have a brother who won’t play board games for this reason, and I now play them rarely. Hence, the switch from chess to life. I find my grandpa’s act resonant.
I think the shift from formal to informal is OK – the one is for the public, the other, me reminiscing.
I’ve tinkered with those two lines. We’re going through the generations, all with their problems in competition and indeed in victory or defeat. I think yet does some work here – the we is my family’s men. All is gone. I think I can just come back to chess later (as I do).
The pricks for me tie in to the disappointments. Little things taken to heart, like Saul kicking.
I’ve tweaked the enemy line. And yes, I discount drawing since my focus is the victory/defeat antinomy and how it’s handled.
The progression of pieces offered I think speaks to the years of play. And then evenly at last, as you say, carries the implication of victory, with to my ear a hint that my dad did not then immediately quit. For non-players, I think “he’d spot me” explain what’s going on.
Myabe days would improve on day, to stress how my dad didn’t quit after evenly matched defeat. He had learned that lesson. I like your story about your neighbor. Oh, and mhy grandpa I played checkers with, as specified.
His speech machine has no bearing on the rest of the poem except to show our gap in age and add flavor in so doing. Yup, hammers. Tricky things, though very solid.
I’ve tweaked the ending, maybe for the better. it’s the competition that bothers me, in defeat and in victory.I hope to have avoided the implication that I am just a poor loser.
Thanks very much for your help with this poem,
John
-
NotQuiteSure
- Perspicacious Poster
- Posts: 3514
- Joined: Wed Dec 28, 2016 4:05 pm
Hi John
It’s really about being competitive.
I understood that, I just don't see that that is explored here. Take the opening couplet (which I really like)
The day my father beat my grandfather
at chess was the last time they played the game.
At no point do we discover who decided that this was the last time they would play. Father? Grandfather? Some weird mutual accord? Who knows?
The poem goes on to talk about the father, so are we invited to assume it was his decision? If so why?
The grandfather's hammer is mentioned later, why? Perhaps he took it to the board in defeat and smashed it to pieces? Don't know.
It's a great opening, but nothing follows on from it.
How did your father win? What was the move? Checkmate or did the grandfather resign.
I even think this opening sets up something like this.
The day my father beat my grandfather
at chess was the last time they played the game.
In chess, defeat your enemy – and not
in partial victory, but absolute.
And my dad had his foibles. I recall
the way he would turn purple in his rage
Remove his pieces one by one, and take
command of the board’s space until his king
...
Reply that final game (or endgame) through the poem would be my suggestion.
I have a brother who won’t play board games for this reason,
Okay (my mother was the same), but how does this competitiveness manifest? There's an implication that the father responds with violence, but it's the grandfather who loses in the beginning and I have no idea how he reacted. Not a clue.
I find my grandpa’s act resonant.
What act? I don't see it on the page.
Are you now saying it was his decision to stop playing with your dad?
I think losing unforgiving is detrimental. unforgiving had implications that foibles simply doesn't.
I think the shift from formal to informal is OK
It's not the shift that bothers me, its the speed with which it occurs.
the we is my family’s men
Still think the 'we' is ambiguous, but how does this sentence relate to the previous? Purple with rage, isn't 'kicking against the pricks' (could be giving the pricks a good kicking, but that's something else entirely) - it's not 'stubborn' is it?
a hint that my dad did not then immediately quit
I know you like to leave things off-stage, but that isn't cutting it here. It just leaves the how/why questions unanswered.
to stress how my dad didn’t quit after evenly matched defeat. He had learned that lesson.
See, this isn't coming through. How had he learned, what had he learned, and how does it relate to 'purple'? If you hadn't said 'he turned purple in' I'd not have got that rage from the rest of the poem. Without it you might read it as 'father learned how not to lose from grandfather and tried to pass that lesson on to son.'
to show our gap in age
He's your grandpa, an age gap is pretty much a given It's flavour, yes, but he isn't the subject of the poem. Besides, it doesn't seem likely that you'd win (unless he let you) so where's the competitive element?
The whole 'checkers' section seems irrelevant. Stick to grandfather/father, father/son, son/his son.
I hope to have avoided the implication that I am just a poor loser.
I thought that was part of the point. That losing (or losing well) is a learned behaviour, and not one you were taught.
Regards, Not.
It’s really about being competitive.
I understood that, I just don't see that that is explored here. Take the opening couplet (which I really like)
The day my father beat my grandfather
at chess was the last time they played the game.
At no point do we discover who decided that this was the last time they would play. Father? Grandfather? Some weird mutual accord? Who knows?
The poem goes on to talk about the father, so are we invited to assume it was his decision? If so why?
The grandfather's hammer is mentioned later, why? Perhaps he took it to the board in defeat and smashed it to pieces? Don't know.
It's a great opening, but nothing follows on from it.
How did your father win? What was the move? Checkmate or did the grandfather resign.
I even think this opening sets up something like this.
The day my father beat my grandfather
at chess was the last time they played the game.
In chess, defeat your enemy – and not
in partial victory, but absolute.
And my dad had his foibles. I recall
the way he would turn purple in his rage
Remove his pieces one by one, and take
command of the board’s space until his king
...
Reply that final game (or endgame) through the poem would be my suggestion.
I have a brother who won’t play board games for this reason,
Okay (my mother was the same), but how does this competitiveness manifest? There's an implication that the father responds with violence, but it's the grandfather who loses in the beginning and I have no idea how he reacted. Not a clue.
I find my grandpa’s act resonant.
What act? I don't see it on the page.
Are you now saying it was his decision to stop playing with your dad?
I think losing unforgiving is detrimental. unforgiving had implications that foibles simply doesn't.
I think the shift from formal to informal is OK
It's not the shift that bothers me, its the speed with which it occurs.
the we is my family’s men
Still think the 'we' is ambiguous, but how does this sentence relate to the previous? Purple with rage, isn't 'kicking against the pricks' (could be giving the pricks a good kicking, but that's something else entirely) - it's not 'stubborn' is it?
a hint that my dad did not then immediately quit
I know you like to leave things off-stage, but that isn't cutting it here. It just leaves the how/why questions unanswered.
to stress how my dad didn’t quit after evenly matched defeat. He had learned that lesson.
See, this isn't coming through. How had he learned, what had he learned, and how does it relate to 'purple'? If you hadn't said 'he turned purple in' I'd not have got that rage from the rest of the poem. Without it you might read it as 'father learned how not to lose from grandfather and tried to pass that lesson on to son.'
to show our gap in age
He's your grandpa, an age gap is pretty much a given
It's flavour, yes, but he isn't the subject of the poem. Besides, it doesn't seem likely that you'd win (unless he let you) so where's the competitive element?The whole 'checkers' section seems irrelevant. Stick to grandfather/father, father/son, son/his son.
I hope to have avoided the implication that I am just a poor loser.
I thought that was part of the point. That losing (or losing well) is a learned behaviour, and not one you were taught.
Regards, Not.
Hi Not,
Here I disagree with you fundamentally and even suspect you’re being deliberately obtuse or bloody-minded. Let’s take a look.
Why would my dad quit playing after his first win? I think it’s obvious that was grandpa’s decision, and the poems’ review of the generations reinforces that.
The hammer is there to show things inherited through generations – stubbornness and a hammer, aptly enough.
Glad you like the opening, from which the entire poem follows.
Who cares how my father won? The point is grandpa’s refusing to play ever again.
Your poem is possible, but I like mine. Nor do I think I need more chess in the piece.
The competitiveness is there for grandpa in his chess decision. For my dad, it’s there in his purple rage. For me, in kicking against the pricks. I would think that’s blindingly obvious.
I think you’re saying you don’t know how my dad reacted. Since the game occurred before I was born, I’d be guessing, which I don’t plan to do. But I’d suppose my dad was unhappy with what that did to his victory, anyone would be. How grandpa reacted? That I think everyone can see.
What act, you say. The act of never playing chess against my dad again, and then playing checkers against his grandchild. Surely that is obvious?
I agree, unforgiving is good. It left at your urging to rewrite those lines, but I don’t plan to have my poem picked to pieces, thank you. I’ve seen workshops like that and formed my opinion of them.
The shift from formal to informal is natural after an introduction.
I don’t find we ambiguous, sorry. And purple with rage at disappointment is indeed tied to stubbornness. I believe I can leave that inference to the vast majority of readers.
Yup, I think I’ve hinted that my dad kept playing after losing, not something my grandpa managed. Generations.
How and what had my dad learned? How, I assume was having it done it him. What, not to give up on chess after defeat. It didn’t stop him turning purple though. This is just my dad, as it is just my grandpa.
Grandpa is playing checkers, not chess, against a tiny child, That is competitiveness. Again, I think that is pretty apparent, if you’d like to take a look.
Losing is a learned behavior. My dad was able to learn that in paying chess with family. I don’t think he extrapolated. As for me, I learned from my dad not to be so competitive it kills joy, hence my rarity in playing chess these days. I’m just not that interested.
Your comment seems thorough as usual, which I appreciate. I just happen to believe you are thoroughly wrong. Thanks for making me think about it.
Oh - thanks also for persuading me to restore unforgiving.
Cheers,
John
Here I disagree with you fundamentally and even suspect you’re being deliberately obtuse or bloody-minded. Let’s take a look.
Why would my dad quit playing after his first win? I think it’s obvious that was grandpa’s decision, and the poems’ review of the generations reinforces that.
The hammer is there to show things inherited through generations – stubbornness and a hammer, aptly enough.
Glad you like the opening, from which the entire poem follows.
Who cares how my father won? The point is grandpa’s refusing to play ever again.
Your poem is possible, but I like mine. Nor do I think I need more chess in the piece.
The competitiveness is there for grandpa in his chess decision. For my dad, it’s there in his purple rage. For me, in kicking against the pricks. I would think that’s blindingly obvious.
I think you’re saying you don’t know how my dad reacted. Since the game occurred before I was born, I’d be guessing, which I don’t plan to do. But I’d suppose my dad was unhappy with what that did to his victory, anyone would be. How grandpa reacted? That I think everyone can see.
What act, you say. The act of never playing chess against my dad again, and then playing checkers against his grandchild. Surely that is obvious?
I agree, unforgiving is good. It left at your urging to rewrite those lines, but I don’t plan to have my poem picked to pieces, thank you. I’ve seen workshops like that and formed my opinion of them.
The shift from formal to informal is natural after an introduction.
I don’t find we ambiguous, sorry. And purple with rage at disappointment is indeed tied to stubbornness. I believe I can leave that inference to the vast majority of readers.
Yup, I think I’ve hinted that my dad kept playing after losing, not something my grandpa managed. Generations.
How and what had my dad learned? How, I assume was having it done it him. What, not to give up on chess after defeat. It didn’t stop him turning purple though. This is just my dad, as it is just my grandpa.
Grandpa is playing checkers, not chess, against a tiny child, That is competitiveness. Again, I think that is pretty apparent, if you’d like to take a look.
Losing is a learned behavior. My dad was able to learn that in paying chess with family. I don’t think he extrapolated. As for me, I learned from my dad not to be so competitive it kills joy, hence my rarity in playing chess these days. I’m just not that interested.
Your comment seems thorough as usual, which I appreciate. I just happen to believe you are thoroughly wrong. Thanks for making me think about it.
Oh - thanks also for persuading me to restore unforgiving.
Cheers,
John
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NotQuiteSure
- Perspicacious Poster
- Posts: 3514
- Joined: Wed Dec 28, 2016 4:05 pm
Hi John.
I just happen to believe you are thoroughly wrong.
Wouldn't be the first time. I mentioned playing with my neighbour, earlier. We continued to play for another year or two after that first victory of mine and she never won a game. On reflection it might have been better to have stopped playing her at that point as she had nothing left to teach me. Your dad could (and I stress could) have reached a similar conclusion. You leave these spaces for a reader to draw their own inferences ...
if you’d like to take a look.
Better to pass, I think.
Regards, Not
.
I just happen to believe you are thoroughly wrong.
Wouldn't be the first time. I mentioned playing with my neighbour, earlier. We continued to play for another year or two after that first victory of mine and she never won a game. On reflection it might have been better to have stopped playing her at that point as she had nothing left to teach me. Your dad could (and I stress could) have reached a similar conclusion. You leave these spaces for a reader to draw their own inferences ...
if you’d like to take a look.
Better to pass, I think.
Regards, Not
.
Greetings, John!
Apologies; I must've missed this last week. I like the poem a lot; there's an easy connection, as Mr T taught me and Brother Graham how to play chess when I was about 8, and chaos of various kinds ensued. There was no turning purple, thankfully, a particularly interesting moment here. It's also interesting how the poem branches out, exploring an alternative game and a different relationship yet with the backdrop of the chess game lingering (*v*)
Cheerie,
F & (^v^)
Apologies; I must've missed this last week. I like the poem a lot; there's an easy connection, as Mr T taught me and Brother Graham how to play chess when I was about 8, and chaos of various kinds ensued. There was no turning purple, thankfully, a particularly interesting moment here. It's also interesting how the poem branches out, exploring an alternative game and a different relationship yet with the backdrop of the chess game lingering (*v*)
Cheerie,
F & (^v^)
Greetings, LFiss and Coo,
Yes, stories of chess! Turning purple is I think to be avoided when possible, but that was hard for my dad. I am glad the poem spoke to you, and it sounds like you have hit on the poem's heartbeat. it does branch out, advancing toward chess and retreating from it.
Cheerie,
John
Yes, stories of chess! Turning purple is I think to be avoided when possible, but that was hard for my dad. I am glad the poem spoke to you, and it sounds like you have hit on the poem's heartbeat. it does branch out, advancing toward chess and retreating from it.
Cheerie,
John
Greetings, John,
Chess stories, hooray! The turning purple is concerning, indeedy. We're glad to have arrived at the heartbeat of the poem, on our little boat, aka the tall ship. It has inspired us to consider writing a chess poem (Light, though) (^v^)
Cheerie,
F & (^v^)
Chess stories, hooray! The turning purple is concerning, indeedy. We're glad to have arrived at the heartbeat of the poem, on our little boat, aka the tall ship. It has inspired us to consider writing a chess poem (Light, though) (^v^)
Cheerie,
F & (^v^)
Greetings, Fliss and Coo!
Yes, by all means hooray for chess stories! They sound a worthy topic for a poem, perhaps a lighter one than this. Turning purple is concerning, though all that is now the past. Yes, your vessel sailed you to the poem’s heart.
Cheerie,
John
Yes, by all means hooray for chess stories! They sound a worthy topic for a poem, perhaps a lighter one than this. Turning purple is concerning, though all that is now the past. Yes, your vessel sailed you to the poem’s heart.
Cheerie,
John
(^v^)