Games are being shifted to other categories so this file will gradually shrink to the point of deletion.

A is the Gambit, by Allgaier found out,
B is the Bishop, so warlike and stout;
C is our Chess – the glorious game,
D is Defeat, with its sorrow and shame;
E is the Evans, a famous attack,
F is the False-move we wish to take back;
G is a Gambit, full of startling delight,
H is the Houses of black and of white,
I is to Interpose in the midst of the fight;
J is J'adoube, which the careless must say,
K is the King, the soul of the play;
L is the López, the Gambit so old,
M is the Muzio, adventurous and bold;
N is the Notes, explaining our play,
O is the Opening, at the first of the fray;
P is a Pawn, marching boldly ahead,
Q is the Queen, mighty and dread;
R is the Rook, a warrior of weight,
S is a Stale, an unfortunate Mate;
T is a Tournay, where the weakest must yield,
U is to Unite our pawns in the field;
V is Variation, which black overlooks,
W is White, who moves first in the books;
X is Xantippe, the meanest of mates,
Y is to Yield, resigned to our fates;
Z is Zatrikiology, a game,
& an art of endurable fame.

Source: Chess Monthly, November 1860, page 348.

Ha! Ha! Big bad puffi's best troller doesn't bother to read puffi's fallacious posts! That tells us how old and tiresome puffi's fabricated words have become.

puffi was just braggin' as usual on himself without analyzing a thing -- but giving himself FULL credit like he's Kasparov. puffi doesn't even bother to look at games or positions, he just reads the last member post and responds with the same old insulting posts he's been using for years. This wanka kisses his own buttocks with his own worn-out rolodex compliments!

I AM Fredthebear. I do more than think for myself -- I tell the truth on the bad apples! It's a fact that puffi is a lazy, unmotivated poster falsely believing that he's created some sort of cyberbully legacy for himself here by abusing other members each day, week, month, year, and decade.

Who's boring? pestiferous is boring! Everyone can see it for themselves.

The Dancing Bear
by James Russell Lowell

Far over Elf-land poets stretch their sway,
And win their dearest crowns beyond the goal
Of their own conscious purpose; they control
With gossamer threads wide-flown our fancy's play, And so our action. On my walk to-day,
A wallowing bear begged clumsily his toll,
When straight a vision rose of Atta Troll,
And scenes ideal witched mine eyes away.
'Merci, Mossieu!' the astonished bear-ward cried, Grateful for thrice his hope to me, the slave
Of partial memory, seeing at his side
A bear immortal. The glad dole I gave
Was none of mine; poor Heine o'er the wide
Atlantic welter stretched it from his grave.

* Black Storms: Game Collection: Tal - The Modern Benoni

Riddle: The one who has it does not keep it. It is large and small. It is any shape.

Answer: A gift.

The Chess Player
by Howard Altmann

They've left. They've all left.
The pigeon feeders have left.
The old men on the benches have left.
The white-gloved ladies with the Great Danes have left. The lovers who thought about coming have left.
The man in the three-piece suit has left.
The man who was a three-piece band has left.
The man on the milkcrate with the bible has left. Even the birds have left.
Now the trees are thinking about leaving too.
And the grass is trying to turn itself in.
Of course the buses no longer pass.
And the children no longer ask.
The air wants to go and is in discussions.
The clouds are trying to steer clear.
The sky is reaching for its hands.
Even the moon sees what's going on.
But the stars remain in the dark.
As does the chess player.
Who sits with all his pieces
In position.

Chess Poem
Battlefield of Life
by Amera M. Andersen
2008

I make this pledge to you alone,
that I shall serve your royal throne.
My silver sword, I gladly wield.
Squares eight times eight the battlefield.

With knights upon their mighty steed
the front line pawns have vowed to bleed
and neither Queen shall ever yield.
Squares eight times eight the battlefield.

The castle walls protect our back
and Bishops plan for their attack;
a master plan that is concealed.
Squares eight times eight the battlefield.

For chess is but a game of life
and I your Queen, a loving wife
shall guard my liege and raise my shield.
Squares eight times eight the battlefield.

Stargazer an original Poem
words by: Keane Martinez

Like the sun that gives light to the moon
You give light to me too, A light that shines
while you're around like the night stars smiling at the darkest of skies, Now that you found the sun to your moon I am happy for you too, Like how I believe in the stars that align for the kings in Bethlehem I wish for the shooting stars would align me back to you, A wish that once is within reach, until I fall for you like the shooting stars reaching for the moon, falling to the gravity of earths crust Now I am so far away from you, though you still shine on me sometimes from the distant like the day when the sun is no longer with the moon. I am still hoping you would pick me up like the asteroids in your gravitational pull. But you will still pick me up right? Shooting stars pick me up. Please.