The Game Of Chess Poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma

Jackals come to my pyre but don't weep;
Bake your cakes and enjoy sound sleep;
I am not a vote bank that sound and blow;
I am an innocent soul whose pyre glow.
I am a ripened life in gloomy sunlight,
I am a gentle and calm soul bright,
I am a gentle bird in muddled game,
I am a bright star that shines but no fame.

I am a pyre with blown up many a dream,
Come and warm yourself but don't grieve,
When you read these lines at dawn hush,
I will be in succumb tally made in rush.
Defend your wickets against cruel bowlers,
It is not the fire crackers, but dream howlers.