Chess Poem

Hi all. This is a poem about chess I created in Year 9 (4th Form) at my school. I ended up winning a $100 gift voucher as a prize, and so now I've decided to submit it onto here. It's meant to have a sort of fast rythym and... I hope you like it!

The tension built,

the tension spread.

Was victory mine?

Or was it death instead?

Minutes ticked by,

surprisingly fast.

Until my opponent moved,

finally, at last!

His move was a good one,

but not good enough.

I smiled to myself,

I decided to play rough!

I gripped a Rook,

moved it, placed it down.

My enemy saw this,

watched with a frown.

His king was trapped,

it couldn't escape!

I grinned at him,

he only gaped!

He moved a pawn,

already too late.

He seemed prepared

to meet his fate!

It was my Knight's turn

to make a move.

To crush the black King,

beneath its hooves.

And when the move came,

Nb8

I muttered the word,

the word "Checkmate".

His position had been weak,

I put up a fight.

The black King lay on its side

destroyed by the forces of white.

Oh, one more thing. I know how it says the black King was destroyed by the forces of white, but it's not meant to be racist or anything. This was a real game that I played against someone, I swear I'm not lying.

Thanks for reading!

John Somerville, wannabe Grandmaster