The Ballad of Appon

The Ballad of Appon is a chess poem I wrote some years ago, one I never got published although I think its the best thing I ever wrote.

Come gather, friends, and you shall hear

Of one who braved our greatest fear,

With none for aid save sixteen true

Warriors carved of ebon hue.

Our tale begins upon a day

(Some years ago, some leagues away),

Of battle, conquest, pain and blood

With corpses littered in the mud.

A sole survivor, fading fast,

Alone looks up, when comes at last

The sound of hoofbeats, strong and proud,

And Appon tries to call aloud.

But still, his lips; comes forth no word;

From lifeless fingers drops his sword:

Upon the steed sits Death erect,

The Reaper cometh to inspect.

As he surveys the horseman grim,

Appon's fear grips and fixes him,

But pits of pain flare in his side

And Appon knows he will abide

Upon the Earth some moments more,

For painless fear-nots take Death's door.

Then slow, the cowled one turns to see

The soldier staunch, the hero free.

Lo, e'en in Death, something is drawn

Towards the courage of a pawn

Who bows not to the Reaper's scythe;

So speaks then Death, in tones of ice:

O mortal one, you're brave indeed,

To pay my dark visage no heed;

So this I offer in return:

A chance for you, your life to earn.

Bony hands conjure a board

And, from his cloak, a treasure hoard

Of jewelled pieces, trappings fine,

For Appon's life is on the line.

Then play they do, with Death to start,

His cold brain matched to Appon's heart.

And even as the pawns flick out,

The battleground dissolves about.

The middlegame begins for real,

Poised knights and bishops turn and wheel;

Fierce rooks and queens join in the fray,

The pawns are forced to peel away.

Death's fingers cast out like pale knives

With moves to steal grandmasters' lives.

But through the pressure Appon holds:

He parries, thrusts and counters bold.

Yea, all Death's nooses he evades,

Decoys and pins to further trades,

Till looms an endgame, pawns and rooks,

Positions never dreamt in books.

A flurry here, a waiting there,

By bridging ranks he gains some air.

The solid Appon's nerves assert

And all Death's play becomes inert.

Pieces locked in repetition,

Appon felt new life within him.

Death grinned and set back up the slain,

Inviting him to play again;

But Appon turned from shade of gray

And savoured life a fresher way,

For he who plays and says goodnight,

Who knows? might win next time as White.

Trolls welcome!  Please someone at least give an opinion.

splendid

Thanks.  I have more but cant remember them.

you got the tone right.....chess is serious business !

Is that stuff safe to use near wanted trolls?

Trolls are misunderstood vulnerable creatures.  This is a Registered Troll Sanctuary and your weapon of persecution will not be allowed here, echecs.  You may be the E in FIDE but blah blah blah....

Polished performance

perfectly planned.

 Previous practice

Perhaps played a hand

Epic! The preparation part is what I liked most. Maybe you should add some lines about positional struggles and tactical shots. About horses jumping, bishops running and queens that offer their life for the good of their people!

Or maybe not.  I know no one probably notices these things but it has 64 lines to match the number of squares on the board.  Also kind of the reason why all my poems use 8 syllables per line.

I liked it. Could you please compose a poem with references to chess, love, Star Trek, betrayal, chocolate, snorkeling and chess literature?

 You can make chapters! Chapter 1: 64 lines. Chapter 2: 64 lines etc.

 Snorkeling?  I am sorry, I don't do kinky stuff.

you dont do kinky stuff? don't listen to him folks,he's lying.

I like it!