Chess Crown

I suck at chess, so there you go, I've said it,
the noble, intellectual endeavor.
Can't win, unless I'm aided and abetted
by an AI substantially more clever
than I am on my own. Ugh, more's the pity.
I fail to understand why I must struggle.
Vocabulary-wise, I'm pretty witty,
hand-eye coordinated - I can juggle!
Nor have I been denied by Pan or Cupid.
In short, a handsome specimen of human,
and not, by any stretch, obtuse or stupid:
The measure of my acumen in lumen
is brilliant, and yet I always lose,
regardless of the opening I choose.

Regardless of the opening I choose,
an early domination of the center
requires pawn play. Surely that's no news.
But which? E2-E4? Had I just sent her,
courageous, brave defender of my king,
to certain death? The menacing Black Knight
dispatches her: a fearsome, lethal swing,
his unsheathed broadsword making it no fight.
What now? I must revert back to the book.
The strategies are there for all to read:
the value of each piece, from pawn to rook,
attacking and defending, fear and greed.
E2-E4 is fine, the book proclaims,
Been battle-tried in countless winning games.

Been battle-tried in countless winning games,
this opening. What move should follow next?
Assuming my opponent simply aims
to occupy the center, I'm perplexed:
His knight is in a vain attempt to flank.
But why? The board is open. All those squares,
yet he forgoes them. Someone pulling rank?
Or file? The move is odd and surely bears,
if I'm not wrong, the semblance of a trap.
They find these in promoted TikTok clips
and practice variations in the app.
The web is full of such well-meaning tips -
"Win in five moves, against a seasoned master!"
The goal remains to win, but faster, faster.

The goal remains to win, but faster, faster.
It's time, I think, my bishop got in play.
Not ivory or wood, nor alebaster.
It's digital, this piece on my display.
Some tongues will call it "elephant" - in Russian,
the home of many champions of chess,
no "bishops". Topic merits a discussion:
The Communists had no desire to stress
religion, in the game they dominated
for decades, until famous Bobby Fisher,
whom many, to this day, have nominated
the greatest of all time, which caused a fissure
in FeeDay, the chess org that gives you titles.
No shortage, in this game, of foes and rivals.

No shortage, in this game, of foes and rivals.
The bishop, elephant, is Indian,
and so is my defense. Its strict disciples,
relying on the piece, like Gideon,
to save the king, they call it a fianchetto,
and place it on G7, with the rook.
If chess were operatic, its libretto -
We know its openings are in a book -
would surely have the scene set in a castle,
which incidentally is a rookie move,
the castle sparing many kings the hassle
of running from a check or to improve
their otherwise unhappy disposition.
The king dislikes to be in this position.

The king dislikes to be in this position.
Most powerful, and at the same time, least.
His enemies committed to a mission
of cornering the man, till he's deceased,
or, at the least, until he waves a flag,
in black or white, to indicate surrender,
and losing, it is really such a drag,
although in chess, he's of a single gender.
An attitude that surely shows its age.
A king, but in name only, he laments,
his lack of allies and his gilded cage,
A has-been, overtaken by events,
he longs to be remembered, to be seen.
Alast, he's just the king. He's not the queen.

Alast, he's just the king. He's not the queen.
Though she is not indifferent to his struggle.
While he just sits there, middle of the screen,
the lady has to rule, or rather juggle,
the roles of all the pieces of the board.
Her moves must match a bishop's or a rook's,
watch out for knights - they cannot be ignored,
remember that no matter how it looks,
a sneak attack can never be dismissed.
The enemy will plan and plot and scheme
and blunders are expensive, rarely missed.
The sad and sorry end of your regime.
And now you understand, though I digress.
I love it, but I really suck at chess.

Author notes: image generated by author prompt to Gemini