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More Than Just A Game Poem
Game of Checkers
John states that he is a novice artist who
has stepped outside the box and is trying to
teach himself how to paint. The background
to his poem, More
Than Just A Game, is an example of his
work in a muted format. The theme is a game
of checkers between two older players who may
actually represent the characters of father
and son in the poem. The soft pastel background
lends a subtle ambiance to the, More
Than Just A Game Poem and after having read the different
verses, the reader can easily identify that
there is indeed more to a game of checkers
than the game itself.
More Than Just A Game
by, John W. Johnston
from Northampton, England
Once upon a time, my Father taught me to play Draughts.
He explained the moves,
forwards not back,
diagonal not straight,
jump over a piece to take it,
get to the other side to be King'd
then become all powerful and move all ways.
And we played our game,
Our one sided game,
as I floundered without strategy or purpose.
He did his best to let me win
but his task was hopeless.
And time passed by ...
And we played again, my Father and I.
I had an idea of what I was doing but lacked skill.
It was no longer annihilation.
Bless him he tried to let me win.
Sharp intakes of breath accompanied with
eyebrows raised as if to say "are you sure?"
"You'll regret that"
"Not the best move you can make"
as he did all he could to steer me towards victory.
Yes, I won but he worked hard to accomplish it.
And time passed by ...
And we played again, my Father and I.
I was confident in my strategy,
Yet play as good as I could
his skills were greater than mine.
No false victories now.
No quarter spared.
No hints given.
Man against man
and the better man won.
And time passed by ...
And we played again, my Father and I.
It was close.
Very close.
Sometimes he would win,
sometimes I would win.
Single Kings chasing each other,
trying to win,
trying not to lose,
trying to avoid stalemate
yet preferring it to defeat.
Two opponents equally matched.
And time passed by ...
And we played again, my Father and I.
He was confident in his strategy yet
play as good as he could
my skills were greater than his.
No false victories now.
No quarter spared.
No hints given.
Man against man
and the better man lost.
And time passed by ...
And we played again, my Father and I.
He had an idea of what he was doing but lacked skill.
Not annihilation but close
as I tried to let him win.
Sharp intakes of breath accompanied with
eyebrows raised as if to say "are you sure?"
"You'll regret that"
"Not the best move you can make"
as as I did all I could to steer him towards victory.
Yes, he won but I worked hard to accomplish it.
And as time passes by ...
I hope we will play again, my Father and I.
Could it be that I shall need to explain the moves?
Forwards not back,
diagonal not straight,
jump over a piece to take it,
get to the other side to be King'd
then become all powerful and move all ways.
An And shall we play our game,
our one sided game,
as he flounders without strategy or purpose.
I will do my best to let him win
but will my task be hopeless?
Playing Draughts with my Father is more than
just a game.
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