Marooned

This is the fourth chess poem I have printed here - criticism or praise are always welcome.  The others, if you care to check them out, are "The Ballad of Appon", "Waiting to Play" and "The Honeymoon Gambit".

Marooned

Hundred days on this blasted rock,

Sun overhead my only clock.

My ship went to the grisly deep

And all save me sank down to sleep.

An island small is now my home,

Scant mile across, not much to roam;

Some basic fruits and roots to eat

And shelter-trees for midday heat.

The first ten days I praised the lord

For sparing me from wrathful sword;

The next ten days I cursed His name

For wreck was Act of God to blame.

Then ten days more I did despair:

I gnashed my teeth and tore my hair.

Then alternate through calm and storm

My moods were grim, my hopes forlorn.

Twisted then for a hundred days

My mind was churning out of phase;

Till turning on itself, I guess,

My brain yielded up one word: Chess!

I needed something, that was true,

A force to bind my thoughts like glue.

So I resolved to make a board

From bits of wood upon the shore.

The back was made from timbers set

In place with sap from tree I'd get;

First boards one way, then the other

So sturdy base was altogether.

More sap again to hold in place

Wooden squares of different shades.

All through this like a man possessed

I worked till sixty-four were pressed.

Delighted then with what I'd wrought,

I played around with little rocks,

Tracing out old remembered plans:

A knight's tour and a bishop's dance.

Purpose anew then drove my hand

To sculpt chess-pieces from the land:

Sharp pebbles carve them from the tree

And fruit juice stains accordingly.

A coarse set then but still at last

The pieces sit, my torment past.

Enough for me to sit and gaze -

At their beauty I am amazed

For now I can play chess once more

And take solace, as had before.

Then it dawns:  I no partner have.

As madness claims me, soft I laugh.

I black out then, how long who knows,

But when I come to, wonder shows!

A man is there, a friend for me

Who nods and plays knight to f3.

I know him well yet know him not

But give it but the scarcest thought.

I seize a pawn and make my play

This wondrous, splendid sun-blessed day.

Oh happy days! We play all hours

God gives us on this island ours.

We seldom speak save through the flow

Of pieces back and forth; I know

Companion mine is all I seek

And months pass just as quick as weeks.

Thus passing sails are all ignored:

My only moves are on the board.

Bravo! I really liked it! I'm not much into poetry and stuff but this was genuinely funny .

Finally!  Thanks Rath, input is always appreciated!  I am pretty insecure.

LOL - you know I think that most ppl turn around when they see poem. LAZINESS! I wanted to do it myself then I thought - ok some1 wrote it (probably invested good deal of time in it) I can spare 2 min to read and comment on it.

Truth is I actually don't like poetry myself.  It is just sometimes I get the urge to do it over the years.  I sat down this weekend wanting to write a short story but I get a lot of mental block and this started coming out instead.

Read this poem!  Yes, I just cynically posted to draw attention.  What a wretch am I.  I should have this member point deducted, or donated to someone who has funny pictures to post.  People like me make me sick.

A new Robinson Caruso and Friday!

I toyed with the idea of making a second person wash up on the beach but decided in the end that I preferred schizophrenia.  Doesn't everyone? 

lol echecs, you know you're my favourite troll

I'll be honest as I always try to be. i didn't read it but appreciate the effort. I can't F'in stand poetry, but have appreciated your "normal" posts in the past. So keep singing. Did I say I can't F'in stand poetry????

rofl thanks, honesty always welcome.  cant abide poetry either myself.  cant explain why I write it either.

Well right back at you with the honesty but, I just realized some hypocrisy in my statement - I do enjoy writing limericks. However they are all atrocious and I have to admit it's about all my attention span will allow, and...well... that's not really poetry...right??

Thats how they all begin...you are on a slippery slope with those limericks...I wrote some about 20 years ago and now look at me - 64 lines before I am sated.

I really like the last stanza and the line "my only moves are on the board"

me too

Thanks for posting something actually worth reading

Thanks, Jason.  Comments mean a lot to me - I don't write often, mainly lack of confidence.

I dabble writing with writing a bit of satirical prose sometimes, but I have noticed that while my stuff is pretty bad, my work when compared to itself, has actually gotten slightly better. So just keep writing! You have a head start on me since you actually have some good stuff here.

The only way to get better at anything is to do more of it, so you should keep writing and posting especially if you enjoy it. Even if no one else will read it, I will :)

Lol! You always write funny stuff! Hmm.. "all hours?" I wonder how long they stay up!