The Chess Mess Painting - Poem by Barbara Field
The boy observes the chess game.
Marble looks like a blue pool.
Brown benches, the one with cricket-like hands.
The lamp posts like the gray area of vision....I see.
The squares are red and beige.
The fact is that the king is thinking of what;
He finds the bishop with his truth, square.
He finds the queen who can't dance, frozen in paint, square.
He even is critical of the angel, balancing act intact.
The painting is not animated to be a motion picture.
The first knight is like a film, viewing the board from the cat bird's seat, moved to be
The goodness to stay out of the game's arena.
The intelligence to slant paint on a flatland in Switzerland.
Like a pawn manipulated to write, to paint, to dream....
Comments about The Chess Mess Painting by Barbara Field
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You