The Chess Game Between Life And Death Poem by Walter W. Safar

The Chess Game Between Life And Death



The chess game between life and death continues.
Death calles upon silence to referee. Life hates silence,
Life and death are facing each other,
And silence is waiting, until life finally agrees to make the first move.
Life: „What have you done for people? "
Death: „I put many out of their misery."
Life is rapidly thinking, knowing that the clock is beating.
Life: „How can you put anyone out of their misery,
If you take me away from them? "
Death is thinking it over now, without hurrying,
Knowing that time is on its side.
Death: „You can be bribed,
Have you ever heard of a sovereign bribing me? "
The impatient knocking of wooden feet can be heard,
The chess pieces are waiting for life's next move
In their black and white world.
Life: „There is no smile on the face of men when they hear of you,
While I am celebrated by youth and old age, and who celebrates you..? "
The white rook is thundering in praise of life.
Death calls upon silence.
After silence climbs on its throne, the top of the highest wooden cross,
Death makes its move.
Death: „Glory is a harlot dancing to the rhythm of the wealthiest.
If it wasn't for me, who would praise you? You know the proverb:
- There is no dawning for one person until it's dusk for another -."
Silence comes down from its throne, whispers into death's ear
letting it know that it's needed.
Death: „We shall continue upon my return! "
The beating of wooden feet across black and white fields fades away,
Thick fogs are creeping below life's feet like silver soldiers of death,
And life looks at the black and white fields on the chessboard,
with a loud sigh:
„It is all but a game..."

Monday, January 9, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: life and death
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Luz Hanaii 10 April 2019

(Glory is a harlot dancing to the rhythm of the wealthiest.) (It is all but a game.) Walter, this is amazing, I truly loved it. That line about glory it's so true. Glory is not only a harlot but a narcissistic harlot, fluting herself to the poor unpopular and lonely. Another Big 10++++

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Edward Kofi Louis 06 June 2017

Death makes its move! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

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