The White Queen
by TD Euwaite
She must move first
Thin vanguard of Pawns
Or knights leaping forward,
She’s crowded in tight with faith and family
And two turrets flanking,
She waits, unable to take a step herself, then pushes a Pawn by two.
The black Bishop
His Knight alongside riding
They wait without pity
But first, Black must front her Pawn with Pawn.
She answers, pulling faith’s White bishop into the slot to chastise
Cross or black Crown
The black King ponders…
Pawns will not quench his insatiable thirst as Power Pieces can.
He sees her there, and her actionless King
She builds a nice wall of players,
But, he will have her.
The pitched battle’s gridlocked on off-colored squares,
Nowhere for succor or solace
No part or portion off limits.
White moves, Black moves
White attacks, Black defends
Who will win, in the end, the first move offends…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem