Progression

Progression

In days of youth, I often played

A game that taught me to invade

The realms of friends and foes alike;

How to defend and how to strike.

My mighty pieces thundered out,

Delivered without shred of doubt.

To battlefields I did lay waste,

Conquering in my youthful haste.

In middle age, I learned to dance

Across the board of skill and chance.

My plans became more intricate,

Knew when to pounce and when to wait.

My pieces now would hop and glide,

Retreat or surge like wooden tide.

Caution was found as motif then,

A sober marshal of my men.

Years did pass and strength did fail

In body, though my mind is hale.

Sometimes I’ll sweep and others thrust;

Many styles now are held in trust.

The game remains my companion,

Through varied contests, lost or won.

Victories came to mean much less

Than simply enjoying the chess.

Pretty nice.  Can we assume you wrote it?

Searching google, I found no relevant results. So, we can assume he wrote it.

I think the poem should be copied out in ornate calligraphy and then put on a wall .

Lol at the calligraphy one.  Yes, I have written a lot of chess poetry now, to answer the first question.  That was written between phone calls at work this week so perhaps it belongs to the call centre.