Here Endeth the Lesson Poem

We finish with a few words of wisdom supplied by Laura Collins which eloquently summarise what this website is all about.

Laura has kindly given us permission to feature "Here Endeth the Lesson" from her collection of occasional poems.

Tables are set as the players arrive,
Hoping my opponent's not taken a bye,
I check the list to see my name,
Whooppee doo, I'm glad I came.

The guy I'm playing is not so good,
I'll press my clock and go for food,
We've met before - I Know his style,
Don't think he knows a rank from a file.

I'm about to stand up, when he makes his first move,
Grinning at me as if something to prove,
Thinking for a while, I throw him a glance,
Then it's back to the board to make my advance.

I deliver my move and sit back all smug,
Remembering the time I picked up the bug,
To take up a hobby, to see in some hours,
I didn't quite fancy arranging flowers.

The clock ticks by, he's thinking too long,
Think I'll jump up and give him a song,
Maybe not, after further thought,
I'll just have a read at the paper I've bought.

The people all gather, my game must be great,
They are all pointing and whispering, a chess players trait,
Tension is rising as the heat's getting more,
Wish they'd stand back, or open that door.

All eyes are on him as he delivers mate,
Slumped in my seat I know it's too late,
I've made a blunder, the game I should have won,
I offer my hand and congratulate my son.

Laura A Collins


Sands at Tenstmuir Sands at Tentsmuir, Fife. Photo by Douglas MacGregor, August 2004.