The Game Of Chess Poem by Akhtar Jawad

The king is the weakest of all and helpless,
Faces all the pains and strains and the stress,
Just like a president in parliamentary form of Governments,
Like a rubber stamp affixed on all documents.

And the queen, which can move in two different ways, is might,
Controls the game from her place, and being might is right,
Source of power of an underdeveloped nation,
In a five star hotel who are God's imitation.

And the bishops with an oblique order of march,
Two eyes on two different paths, like a broken torch,
Just like the religious politicians and extremists,
They support and patronize the violent terrorists.

And the horses that play games unique,
One step forward and the next oblique,
Just like a newly born baby in politics,
Not aware of the principles of morals and ethics.

And the rookies blind, thoughtless, animals of a zoo
Jobless followers who have nothing to do,
An emotional, angry, and insane generation,
That's powerful, decisive but a thread to federation.

And the mates who are helpless people of the nation,
Who can vote for the leaders but cannot call explanation,
But if they move and move straight and touch the goal line,
They become a queen, and on the board they shine.