chessical

Ummm... I don't post anything anymore, especially poetry but this was done this morning. I was in the mood after my lastest attempt to critique and understand. I'm not a poet, I'm a writer... This was my mother's voice through my cracked lips.

the Castled

a stairway of men, sheathing their hoods
line up for the don'ts of women
the swords raised, I can hear them piercing
is the calling of one's heart
in the blackwhite meadow, patterned

the crosses of crowns
and the peaks of crenellations
they clash and burn
beautiful collisions and bruises

at first light of dawn
tactical imperfects tested
the skirmish along flanks
comes a new seed to fight, poison
the generals rush weights across maps
flagging the won and treacherous
seeking the wounds and holes

the poison pulse through every man
consumes their soul to stone (plastic)
forever frozen,
it is their moments that do battle
and their history that do war

at last nets, the kings are subdued
toppled over, literally
the queens dead of their own secretes
lying with all her sisters
all with the same whispers and taunts
it is the falling of one's power
there is doubt of leadership
and the light to revolute is high

there are no heroes at this
only strength and clear minds can push
find the glossary of squares,
for it is the table that one must kill on
the game of confrontation
my game where situations
...run my life

~AW

EDIT: mispellings...thanks

You were right when you said you were a writer, not a poet. Still, there was enjoyment to be found in the chess metaphors and it did convey images in my head - mainly because I was having fun beating my girlfriend at chess last week (and I'm not particularly skilled at chess, and she won some championship, but I digress). It flowed well when I read it and the style was neat and tidy. Not a poem I can find much to critique but on the same level it did not blow me to kingdom come (no checkmates here, then). Also, the last stanza was weak and needless. Your poem should be strong enough without it.

Oh, and there's a few typos - "cosumes" should "consumes" and "glossory" should be "glossary".

I like your imagery, a lot. I find your poem very, unique. Also I like how you ended it, I would have found it hard to, by all means. You could be a poet. You just have fix a few things, that's all.
I'd like to read more from you!

I thought this was good. I think you should look into poetry. Hey, I started out crappy, but you get better. This was way better than my first attempts though. I like the imagery you create. Good job.

I have a hard time not cracking up, only because my friends and I have a very... "interesting" inside joke about chess. *ahem* I'll try to put it aside for now. I usually don't go in-depth with poetry critiques because I don't think I know enough about it, but I'd like to try it. Thank you for involuntarily being my guinea pig.

the Castled Ah, back to the infamous green writing... Anyway, nice title. I like your capitalization here.

a stairway of men, sheathing their hoods
line up for the don'ts of women I don't know why I don't like this line... I think it's the word 'don'ts.' Is that even correct? It's just... awkward.
the swords raised, I can hear them piercing
is the calling of one's heart Did you mean to start with 'is'? It breaks the flow for me... 'it is' would fit better. Especially because you start with 'it is' later on.
in the blackwhite meadow, patterned

the crosses of crowns
and the peaks of crenellations
they clash and burn
beautiful collisions and bruises

at first light of dawn
tactical imperfects tested
the skirmish along flanks
comes a new seed to fight, poison
the generals rush weights across maps
flagging the won and treacherous
seeking the wounds and holes

the poison pulse through every man
consumes their soul to stone (plastic)
forever frozen,
it is their moments that do battle
and their history that do war LOVE this stanza. However, unless this is one of those times where you don't like grammar, it should be 'and their history that does war.'

at last nets, the kings are subdued
toppled over, literally I don't like the word 'literally' there. Too corny. Maybe add another metaphor?
the queens dead of their own secretes Secrets or secretes? Either way, good.
lying with all her sisters
all with the same whispers and taunts
it is the falling of one's power
there is doubt of leadership
and the light to revolute is high

there are no heroes at this
only strength and clear minds can push
find the glossary of squares,
for it is the table that one must kill on
the game of confrontation
my game where situations
...run my life Meh. This stanza is really bland. You go from excellent metaphors and personification to a stanza that sounds like something I would write. I have the same problem - you get to the end and start writing dramatic and, sorry to be harsh, crappy stuff. I guess mediocre would be a better word... Anyway, I don't like the last line. To put it aside like that ruins the flow for me and is just really awkward.

Not bad at all, though. You do write better stories than poetry, but this really wasn't bad. Good job.

This was a very beautiful poem, your moms voice or not. You should be proud your mom has a voice like this, you might have gotten some of her voice genes... Wow... better than anything I have ever written, better than anything I COULD write...

Amazing, and my favorite part was ... all of it (O_O) YAY!!

It was good. The ryming was somewhat off. But, it was entertaining and somewhat fun to read. I really don't know what to say.

-- M.B.Author