September 17, 2009
One, Two,
Ten, Nine,
The scarabs flew,
He choked on wine,
Three, Four,
Eight, Seven,
Through air they soar,
Was barr’d from heav’n,
Five, Six,
Six, Five,
Wove gold from sticks,
Fell down, alive,
Seven, Eight,
Four, Three,
Green gleaméd great,
Stood up to see,
Nine, Ten,
Two, One,
We’re rich again.
His work undone.
Behind the Rhyme.
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September 16, 2009
White sang bass and Black sang tenor
As they moved across the board.
With voices high in strident cry
Across the checks they warred.
Bishops try assassination,
And Pawns advance to Queen,
Such a crying tumult, foolish game
The world has never seen.
There are some few that already
Say how the story ends,
With standing King in Black and White
In a draw that no [...]
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