"checkers" poems
They dont make it
the beautiful die in flame-
sucide pills,rat poison,rope what-
ever...
they rip their arms off,
throw themselves out of windows,
they pull their eyes out of the sockets,
reject love
reject hate
reject,reject.
they do'nt make it
the beautiful can't endure,
they are butterflies
they are doves
they are sparrows,
they dont make it.
onetall shot of flame
while the old men play checkers in the park
one flame,one good flame
while the old men play checkers in the park
in the sun.
the beautiful are found in the edge of a room
crumpled into spiders and needles and silence
and we can never understand why they
left,they were so
beautiful.
they dont make it,
the beautiful die young
and leave the ugly to their ugly lives.
lovley and brilliant: life and suidcide and death
as the old men play checkers in the sun
in the park.
8.2k
Hopscotch
Girlfriends running, twirling, too.
Taking turns out in the sun.
Skip and hop across the board.
Leap over the marked one.
Twister.
Red right foot,
Bodies blend.
Green left hand
Twist and bend
Blue left foot,
Over extend.
Yellow right hand
In a body pile, again.
Chess
Pawns in play,
Knights abound.
King in check,
Queens around.
Pieces falling one by one
Check and Mate is the sound.
Tag
Tag! You're It.
Running wild.
Laughing, screaming,
Swift little child.
Jumprope
Rope atwirling overhead.
Jump when its under.
Singsong chanting
Sounds like thunder.
Checkers
Red men, Black men.
Jump on a diagonal.
King me, king me
Gonna jump a handful
Kick the Can
Running down the street.
Kicking that can.
Swarm of kiddies
Chasing past the man.
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 7:30 PM UTC
There's a tiger in the tree top,
playing checkers with the sun king,
cutting light across the cloudscape,
as black takes red for another king me,
God carves the stubble along the jaw line,
clean cut remedy
we all sing for the twenty-third century break me down,
break the matchbox,
light us up,
burn the red wood down,
tiger's gonna swallow the world,
tiger's gonna bleed a rectified rainbow realist chorus,
all the pawns are at root,
all players underfoot,
God's got checkers playing with the son killing world feaster,
tiger tiger, what do you fear?
oh tiger tiger, what hell do you bear?
oh tiger, how death plays you so
so foolish,
tiger tiger,
you fall
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 3:04 AM UTC
* I got a lot on my mind
I'm dying to let it out.*
This relationship has gone sour
The sweet venom losing it's edge.
I'm opening my eyes to a new reality
How could hope fail me
I believed in you & I
It's ashame to watch it die.
Checkers, chess, hopscotch,
I played those games when I was 12.
You drag me around like a rag doll
A piece in a game I don't want to play
Love is faith
Love is hope
How can we overcome if you don't have both?
How will we survive when mine continue to die?
We're holding on by a thread
I see the splits
I see the rips
This is done for, no more bliss
Letting small things go
When they really continue to build up
Creating frustrations in me
I don't need to know.
My lover, my best friend, my everything.
That's what you're supposed to be
Yet, I feel like just your *****
And I'm not down with it, you see
Trust, trust, trust, and truth
Lying about small things
Why should I believe you?
Without trust, why should I love you?
Taking my innocence for granted
You'll rue that
Taking my heart and slamming it
What's wrong with you?
Acknowledging your love,
Well I'm still looking for it.
You're my karma.
I'm the one that got away.
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 6:31 PM UTC
Board games, card games
your games, my games,
I can't get enough.
Checkers, Chess, Stratego,
Battleship, Clue and Risk
require such strategy
and a taste of boldness.
For Twister and the Slip-n-Slide,
you need flexibility and dare.
Monopoly, Ultimate Frisbee
and Slaughter Ball all require
a good amount of aggression,
where Senet, Operation and Connect Four
only need clever patience.
For Jenga and Topple,
you need the skill of a gymnast.
Rummy, Gin, Go Fish, Blackjack and
War, you need only an opponent.
Now, go play!
Written By:
Andrew D. Robertson
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
Yes Sandi is my name
Im the player in her game
Chess is
Checkers times two
Had fun toying
With you
My friend
My friend
Mandi mentioned you
As I laid
Fingers splayed
Teasing her sin
Sandi
She moaned
Playful lusted tone
He's a great young man
Thoughts of you
Interrupted
She begged
Grabbing hands
Mandi
Mandi
What a woman you are
Kept a young man falling
Free like comets
From stars
Oh Mandi
You knew
That you had a lover
Who looked just like you
Mandi I assumed you didn't lie
Notice shock
Looking up
On you
Going down
On that guy
Sandi
Baby you called out
What the hell was that about
Mandi i thought you cared
Somehow the exhausting
********** we shared
Couldn't satisfy you
Mandi go to hell
Take your man
Downtown with you
My poem
Murray
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 8:07 PM UTC
My apologies if you thought you'd play checkers with my heart. Surely you deserve a round of applause for the biggest fool in town.
© Sonia Ettyang
October 2018
Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 4:04 PM UTC
you don't see life as a game of skill
playing hopscotch on the
white and black checkers
reaching out to infinity with their
comforting symmetry
and severe geometry
you say you're unobservant
but how can you look down
at your calloused mud-caked feet
and not see the
chessboard that is pressing
just as stiffly against your feet
as you reach down
and root yourself into it
burying your head in
the world of fantasy games
without winner or loser
i envy your blissful ignorance
your hope
however misplaced
do you simply refuse to see
how every pensive move
rook to E7
knight to C5
seems to me not an attack
on the mockingly vulnerable king
but an action of
vicious hostility towards
the most powerful piece on the board
so the queen enacts
her equal and opposite
reaction
to slash the entire cosmos to ribbons
an infinite fury of blind terror
that seeks blood
and scavenges the last flesh
clinging to bone.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
why is it these days that all the good die young?
when there's prisoners and felons waiting to be hung.
see it's only the innocent that get hit by blind eyes
when the bad ones they rot, in an eternity of lies
rapists and killers get visitors daily,
while my sisters lucky if anyone thought about her lately.
my good friends are being mowed down like spring grass
and the convicts are playing checkers and sharing loud laughs
the man who killed my sister is sitting in a cell,
while my sister is lying, 6 feet in the ground
how sad is that my friends are fading
while empty jail cells sit anticipating?
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Socrates on the Courthouse Lawn in Liberty, Texas
“Strong minds discuss ideas,
average minds discuss events,
weak minds discuss people.”
-attributed to Socrates, but no one knows
Imagine if you will old Socrates
On an old wooden bench on the courthouse lawn
Playing checkers with all the other old men
On an old picnic table throughout the day
He lifts his old straw hat in the leafy shade
With his old bandana he wipes his old bald head
And sagely asks the old questions of us
And through his dialectic dismantles old cant
And that must be why, as the ages pass
They’ve made for him a monument here in the grass
(While passing through Liberty, Texas I saw on the courthouse lawn a marble slab engraved only with “Socrates”.)
Liberty County Courthouse - TexasCourtHouses.com
Liberty, Texas, Bed & Breakfast Hotels (usatoday.com)
Socrates (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy)
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 9:25 AM UTC
If you ask him he will talk for hours--
how at fourteen he hammered signs, fingers
raw with cold, and later painted bowers
in ladies' boudoirs; how he played checkers
for two weeks in jail, and lived on dark bread;
how he fled the border to a country
which disappeared wars ago; unfriended
crossed a continent while this century
began. He seldom speaks of painting now.
Young men have time and theories; old men work.
He has painted countless portraits. Sallow
nameless faces, made glistening in oil, smirk
above anonymous mantelpieces.
The turpentine has a familiar smell,
but his hand trembles with odd, new palsies.
Perched on the maulstick, it nears the easel.
He has come to like his resignation.
In his sketch books, ink-dark cossacks hear
the snorts of horses in the crunch of snow.
His pen alone recalls that years ago,
one horseman set his teeth and aimed his spear
which, poised, seemed pointed straight to pierce the sun.
1.8k
Stomach full of liquid.
Black eyed peas
And obsession with relish
Finally paying off.
Trees
Collages
Dancing
Seductress.
Knowledge
Healing
Three small boys dressed as their fathers
Playing checkers
Giggling
Marimba chops
Echoing
Twice stolen earphones
Volume control
Old south
1933
Shallow grave
Shallow sleep
Fresh cars
First to drive
Survive.
Sonic
Pescetarianism.
Cherry Lime-ade
Walking on the
Green grass
REM interrupted
Curious hands
Laced between
Fingers
Three sizes smaller
Sinking
unbiased truth
peeking an ugly face
around her corner.
Talk of mustaches and
****** orientation
The price of documentation.
Embrace
certainty within confusion.
Tuesday.
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC
He was five or six when he first challenged her
To play a game of checkers.
Fresh-faced and eager from battles with friends,
Young master of jumping and double-jumping,
Connoisseur of cornering and kinging.
Ready to wreak havoc on his grandmother,
A simple farm wife, unskilled in the battle of the board.
He didn't contemplate that the checker set
In the old farm house was hers....
Their battles raged,
Sometimes every day,
With, "Want to play again?"
His constant question.
I would watch her lose,
Seeing what my little boy,
The often conqueror,
Could not see in victorious glee.
Twenty-five years later,
We sit again at the old farm table,
And the two are pitted in their checkers game;
The same, but wearied box waiting
While the battle rages on the old scarred board.
Her hand, uncertain, moves the pieces slowly
As though she is off somewhere thinking,
And he, now patient, waits in a treasured time,
For her to contemplate and make her moves.
He is twenty-nine, and she is eighty-nine,
And though the opportunities rise,
Through my misty eyes,
I see my son, pulling punches.
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC
a confessional screen
chambered in opaques
the pearly gates would sport
checkers sovereignty with grime
between myself
and the other side of this poem
another acolyte had founted
from our species-widened narthex-maw
the answer to the test
the answer i have tested since
despite the veto of a roshi's sleeve
while adults justify in frowns and threats
commandment-etched
i am a child still
aghast at drawing lines in sand to mark the living
from the soon to die
one i knew who drew such lines
for whom a line was drawn to mark himself as well
not just in votes and homeland hate-speech
you see
he crossed the line
no unadulterated childhood can cross
he shot his own face
or at least his face was shot
when he was found
who can read the final lonely moments of another
when mistakes are easier than ownmost acts ?
bombing bullies politicking death
can sanctify the safe
unpunctuated traps
dividing moods in swallows
pills
swilled with undigested fear
of nozzled death
mercilessly sudden
.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
I don't know how I can write all this
Know all this
With a pinpoint, laser focus
Tuned so far into,
Most every issue,
I come out the other side of existence
To get a look at if from every angle,
This ain't checkers, this is chess
From biggest
To littlest
Catalyst,
To coroner visits
Call every witness
There's an obvious will,
To one day still,
Find a bottom to this
Accountability,
Twords the top of the list
While I skirt a bit of responsibility,
Let's be honest
But can't fold any of it into my healing process
So after all this,
And after being told it would absolutely aid in the progress,
I'm still a mess
Can't make it make sense
©2024
Apr 15, 2024
Apr 15, 2024 at 3:57 PM UTC
Left Brain
I am not a scientific test or analysis, a mathematician
or an algorithm. I am not a linear graph or a statistician.
I am the reason that you can colour inside the lines,
why you don't fall off your bicycle anymore and never forgot
how to ride it. I am the force behind your smiles-
eighteen different smiles. The reason you can hold a book
or ball and learn what to do when it's in your hands.
I take credit when you remember the name of your childhood
babysitter. Thanks to me, you can play with jigsaw puzzles
or cards or checkers or dominoes. And thank me too
for your vocabulary. You don't necessarily remember
just how it is you came to remember sequences like getting dressed
or driving, decoding or analysing. I am the reason
you can probably look at someone and learn their name.
I suppose you could complain about how I dictate your days.
How you get up, go to sleep, lend you the seconds and minutes
and hours and months and years. I am the one who taught you
time. I'm also there for you to know that it runs out.
Right side
I am no dancer or artist made for television. Instead,
I'm the vibration you feel in the tips of your fingers
when you make a toast and ***** your wineglasses.
Those eighteen smiles you can smile? I gave you the gift
of being able to count your crayons while you are smiling.
But it's more than box sets of crayons and toasts.
I am the reason you want to be. Everything you yearn for-
every penny you ever tossed into a fountain, every star
you have wished on, and every eyelash. I am the reason
why you prefer wearing blue to green, and why you may
fill a blank page with words for what you want, how you feel.
I am the excitement that waits for you at Christmas
or reunions. When you saw the sky full of stars, felt snow
or went in the sea for the first time, I gave you that gasp.
I am your eyes on the world. Blame me for your wanderlust.
I am not time. I am how you know sometimes
that there is no way you'll ever have enough of it.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 12:44 PM UTC
A simile is like a metaphor.
A metaphor is a similie,
Except if it forgot "like" or "as"
A similie is like checkers,
The rules are simple, easy to follow.
A metaphor is chess,
Complex and intricate.
Think of a simile as the store brand
A metaphor is the name brand
Of anything.
Metaphors are tests for the mind,
They make you visualize
Bear Mountain.
Similies are like little suggestions,
They point you in the right direction,
The Mountain was big like a bear.
Both important,
Both fun!
I like similies
Metaphores are love.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 10:26 PM UTC
Sliding down a savagely slippery slope
A downward spiral obstructed with fate
I found my Mechanism, now I can cope
Checkers before her, my soul chessmate
As cold as a glacier, shivering and frigid
I lay in the snow, halfway frozen to death
I was as stiff as a statue so hard and rigid
Her lips greeted mine with heaven's breath
It's now clear to me I was paralyzed before
A shell of myself, many layers left to peel
Standing still with deaf ears upon the door
You opened it and gave me ability to feel
I see the future in your eyes, just like an old soothsayer
Her smile won a nobel prize, for answering my prayer
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 4:26 AM UTC
Tutti sanno che Los Angeles è un luogo fresco pazzo per sposarsi .ma dire "sì" ai mozzafiato Hilton vestiti da sposa Checkers ed è un nuovo livello di impressionante .Questo perché Hilton Checkers è un hotel che non solo offre sistemazioni incredibili ( controllare la loro politica " blocco di cortesia" ! ) .Ma diversi luoghi sbalorditivi per dire "sì" o gettando quel post o pre-festa di nozze .Dateci un'occhiata qui di seguito .
Da Hilton Checkers .Hilton Checkers si trova nel cuore del abiti da sposa on line centro .a pochi passi da molte delle principali attrazioni della città .L' hotel dispone di diversi luoghi unici per eventi .compreso il nostro Rooftop Deck che può ospitare fino vestiti da sposa a 100 persone e offre una vista mozzafiato dello skyline di Los Angeles .Pluripremiato ristorante dell'hotel .Dama Downtown .è disponibile anche per eventi privati fino a 80 . Alla ricerca di una posizione unica per una cena
di prova o il brunch di nozze post.il patio hotel offre un rifugio perfetto per il vostro evento speciale .
Inoltre .l'hotel dispone di 193 camere e suite arredate con gusto per accogliere gli ospiti per il vostro matrimonio .Per comodità .Hilton Checkers offrono i cosiddettiè eblocchi ourtesyècon un cut-off di 30 giorni.Questo programma consente di bloccare camere con uno sconto di gruppo .senza essere responsabile di tutte le camere di essere raccolto .Quindi.se si blocca di 15 camere e solo 10 di prelievo .che ' va bene .perché quattro settimane prima della data di arrivo .le camere rimanenti nel blocco sarà rilasciato per la vendita generale.
Benvenuti alla famiglia .Hilton Checkers !Siamo così felici di averti
http://www.belloabito.com/abiti-da-sposa-c-1
http://188.138.88.219/images_ld/td//t35/product_thumb/1/271935353535_394043.jpeg
http://www.belloabito.com/goods.php?id=396
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
Do not weep for our dear friend
Think of him this night
In terms that he would really love
Nascar turned him "right"
We lost a friend we loved today
Our family down by one
Remember Al in your own way
He's now a star, a blazing sun
A father, granddad, brother
A friend to all who crossed his path
A man to share a story with
A man to share a laugh
A green, white, checkers finish
Is the way our friend lived his time
He was a mentor to so many
I'm glad that his path did cross mine
I will toast his life in honour
Break out the port and praise his name
For I am proud I knew him
And I hope you all feel the same
We all share many stories
Of our time with our dear friend
And though we're hurt so by his passing
The tales we tell will never end
A hangover on drambuie
A trip to watch a race
Each story shared is special
Each story has it's place
Remember now our friend Al
How he'd laugh and tell a joke
He'd not want us to weep for him
But, to go and sneak a smoke.....
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
The master’s puppet smiles big as he sit at the masters feet with the darkness captured within a rose as the smell is as sweet. The master is playing with him toying with his afflictions does the master not see that the puppet is on the end of a stick dangling his smile so thick.
His red and green shows his desire to win at all costs and to become the master who sits and watches but can a frog play chess or checkers without getting lost?
The puppet has a letter on his head can anyone guess what it said? As far as I can see it is Alpha heaven for all to reach as the masters plan is in action I never could read the puppets reaction. This is a puzzle hidden very well inside the gates of heck with arms and feet crossed how much did the puppet pay to be the boss?
As I stand and take the puppet by the hand his face is no longer smiling it looks a fright as he is covered through the night .His smile soon returns as the game turns that favorite corner to see the master and to sit at his feet once more.
Waiting to see who comes through the door. It was I, the thing you cannot see the spirit who moves in me. Just as the master now sits at my feet the smile is upon the puppets face for redemption never tasted so sweet. Blessed are the toad and the puppet as well as the master for grace is sitting in the driver’s seat so rare. I loved the rosy cross but the price is what I paid, not what I bought!
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 4:31 AM UTC
two grand masters
play checkers;
chess is a lost cause
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
We're the New Levites:
We're the early risers and cable layers,
sound checkers and coffee makers.
We're the greeters, the good to see-yers,
the washer-uppers, the kids' teachers.
We qualify by turning up,
with willing hands and open hearts.
We're the New Levites and refuse no-one
so step up today, the rota's open.
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC