Stalemate -Another Poem I Did for the Poetry Slam

The red queen of Chess stood firm in her space,
Her sister, the white queen, in the opposite place,
And they stared at each other, both bitter with hate,
(They were not on good terms, of late).

“My Dear Red Queen, ye overgrown lump,
Tis a wonder thy king smacks thee not in the rump!
Thou art too fat, disgusting, obese;
Indulging in fast food and banquets and feasts!”

“Take that back, I daresay, or I’ll tell my king!”
“Then I’ll tell my king, who !”
“I’ll set my knights upon you! Just wait! Just you wait!”
“My bishops will curse you to a terrible fate!”


“I’ll gather my armies of pawns,
With heads and hearts of solid bronze!”
“But by then my rooks will soon be readied!”
You’ll be sorry you tarried!”

“Have it your way, you curse of a sister,
I’ll tell my king, and you tell your mister!
Then, a duel to the death, to test our true mettle,
Then our troops will converge in heavy, pitched battle!”

And so they gathered their numerous hordes,
Knight pawn rook bishop, and the queens with their lords.
Pawns to the fore, the rest hide behind,
Stiff on the chessboard, in perfect straight lines.

They clashed in the field, pawn versus pawn,
It wasn’t long before half were gone.
The knights came, to rescue friend to rout the foe,
But the bishops came and cursed them, and their fate (who knows?)

The troops were exhausted; the knights were half-slain,
And the mighty rooks were the bishops’ banes.
But the queens were released, and went into the fray,
And each had in mind the other to slay.

Queen against queen, they battled and battered,
‘Twas the enemy losing, not the Winning that mattered!
They fought and they fought, they tumbled and tussled,
Armed with great swords and great Muscles!

The kings had long since retreated,
And the bishops were already defeated,
Almost all of the pieces were ready to quit,
Though that the old queens just refused to admit.

At last, no one else was still willing to fight,
Except, of course, the queens, (who yet battle and bite!)
With desire for vengeance naught could satiate,
And their forever they fight, so we call it . . . STALEMATE!

Birds

Saw some birds today. Not that I never see birds on other days, but this time I saw a bird-battle. Yes, there was a scuffle.

I was watching from the balcony, actually, staring into the great semi-green expanse that is Kuala Lumpur. Then I saw the birds. There was one, one small, black-and-yellow little fellow, chasing a large, rather ugly-looking crow. The black and yellow bird (BAY bird, for short) was furiously chasing he poor crow, trying constantly to nip its enemy's tail or chest. Round and round they flew, until another crow came to pull his friend out of the melee. The crows retreated to a high outpost on the edge of their marked territories, carefully watching the BAY. The BAY was staring at them too. He had perched himself on a tall tree. A temporary armistice was made.

Temporay was the emphasis, mind you. Once or twice, the crows launched hesitant movements into enemy territory. They didn't win. Chased out again. Then suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, another BAY bird appeared, to aid his feisty brother-in-arms.

Then I went back inside the house. I guess they are still fighting, chasing each other from perch to perch, until nighttime and their mothers call them to bed.