Poetry Corner

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Poetry Corner

Postby liam stephens on Wed Jul 25, 2007 4:06 pm

Hello Jay,

Here is an item I found in Louis Giroux's Revue Mondial, No 11/12, Nov/Dec 1972, which I hope you and others will enjoy.
Kinda topical! I wonder, did you know the author?


I played a computer
who knew Checkers and Chess
So well, it was almost fantastic.

I don't mind that he made
Of my game a mess,
But what I resent:
He is wires, screws and plastic.

But perhaps my game
Was filled with fear,
For which I paid
A price so dear.

For I neglected
The inner voice
That told me,
There was another choice.

My inner voice. What did it say?
It said computers
Don't think or pray:

"Wise up master, your brain was born
While this computer
Is fed tapes like a moron."

So I fought him again;
It was fantastic
To fight those wires, screw and plastic.

He had tapes for a brain
And wheels for a heart.
I said "If I should win
I shall take him apart."

I beat him ten straights-
There was nothing I'd rather.
Now he's looking for someone
To put him together.

Louis S. Rubin (Cleveland. O.)
liam stephens
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Re: Poetry Corner

Postby Jay H on Thu Jul 26, 2007 8:00 pm

Greetings Liam,
I, myself, (off the top of my head) am unfamiliar with the author, but, the piece itself is BRILLIANT !!!!


Excellent post !!!!
:thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup:

Thanx !


Jay H
Aut Inveniam Viam Aut Faciam !!!
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Jay H
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Re: Poetry Corner

Postby liam stephens on Sun Sep 23, 2007 3:09 pm

Hi Pal,

Below is an item from long ago, that I came across, which I hope you will find interesting.



LAST night I dreamt an awful dream about the checker board;
I thought I was a champion great, I did upon my word;
I thought there was a tournament, where every nation met;
And such a scene of checker boards I never will forget.
There was Barker from across the sea and his brother Isaac too,
How gracefully they stepped into the rooms of Waterloo.
There was Reed th' American champion with Freeman at his back.
And good old Wyllie, he came next the greatest living crack.
From England there came on the scene our good friend Mr. Hill.
There were Tescheliet, Gordon, Freeman, straight from the capital.
There was Atkinson from Manchester who loves the "Doctor" game,
And Willie Gardner, all the way the pride of England's fame;
And then came Scotland's greatest men, yes, men who never fear,
There was Glasgow's greatest analyst (a good man M' Ateer),
There was Bryden, and M'Kelvie, and Will Campbell seated there,
And good old comic Robert Home, a noted Glasgow player ;
There was Martin, there was Searight, there was Fraser, from Dundee,
There was good young Ferrie, who holds the Draught board key ;
There was A. D. Ritchie from the Press; the Herald sent M' Call,
But I thought I was the greatest checker-player amongst them all,
The ties were drawn; the hour drew nigh, when each one met his man,
And soon the greatest checker fight in earnest had begun;
Each pair had four good games to play the battle to decide-
The rules laid down the same as those drawn in M'Culloch's "Guide"
Before old Wyllie I was placed - Oh, how my heart did beat!
Oh, how I prayed within myself for this old man's defeat!
I thought if I could beat my man, with honour I would rise,
And he the greatest checkerist beneath the azure skies.
I started with the black men, and opened with the " Fife,"
And, ah, he had to fight as if it had been for his life.
So after we had played an hour, and nothing good he saw.
He whispered in a husky voice, "the game will only draw".
The next two games were both good draws as clearly might be seen.
He fought them most determinedly, I played both stiff and keen,
And every time 'twas he to move, the lawful time he took-
He said he ne'er met one so young could knock him off the book.
In game the fourth, I had the white, so I put on the "Cross,"
And soon he was in difficulties, and gave signs of a loss.
He played with all his artful skill, and laid some cunning snares,
But J. K. H. could not be caught so easy unawares.
On, on I played with all my skill - each move made some demand---
'Twas evident to everyone I had a win in hand.
So, with a man that ne'er had moved from good square thirty-one,
I moved right into twenty-seyen ; and, lo! his game was done!
The ending was as follows:-I'd a man on twenty-five,
I'd men on thirty-two and twenty-seven, as I'm alive.
He had a Black on eighteen and one on nineteen square,
He had a man on twentv-three - and how it tied his hair !
He took the lawful time to try and find some skilful plan-
At last with sweating brow he made to sacrifice a man.
But scarcely had he touched the piece, when with a dreadful scream,
I wakened up and found 'twas but the pleasures of a dream.
In anger I arose, and got my books, and board and men;
I made a blazing fire, and cleared my wealthy checker den-
"Guides," "Quarterly Reviews," and every work upon the game -
I watched them burn to ashes, midst that dreadlful burning flame,
I bid farewell for ever to the game I once adored,
Though many happy nights I've passed, when winds in winter roared.
Yet I will ne'er forget the game until the day I die,
So should you dream a dream like mine don't do the same as I.

From the Glasgow Press. J. K. HARVEY, Bridgeton.
liam stephens
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Re: Poetry Corner

Postby Palomino on Sun Sep 23, 2007 4:31 pm


I found myself being caught up in his dream, with every line I read and every name I was trying to picture the tables, the boards, the faces of all these great players gathered together in one place and when I came to the lines:
He played with all his artful skill, and laid some cunning snares,
But J. K. H. could not be caught so easy unawares.
I thought who is this J. K. H.? Thinking, with only initials to go by, I'll never figure out who J. K. H. is! :( Then at the end
I was surprised to find the answer. :lol: I still don't know who J. K. HARVEY is but I love his poem.

Many thanks for sharing it Liam.

Best regards, "Pal"
CHECKERS: The Mind Sport of Kings and Ordinary Men.
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