The Artist

Another game is over so
the chessmen hold a party.
The bishop gets his paints out
as he's feeling rather arty.

He wants to paint the queen
(as she's so beautiful, you see),
and maybe draw a pawn or two;
a knight or rook, maybe?

He mixes lots of colours
without thinking (as you might)
that all he really needed
was some black and, then, some white.

"Never mind," the bishop says,
"Artistic licence rules.
And those who think that everything
is black and white are fools."

He stands back when he's finished.
The bishop's earned his salary.
The king decides he'll hang it in
his special palace gallery.

So now, in any chess game,
if the bishop fails or faints,
and gets taken by the other side,
he just gets out his paints.

poem © Celia Warren 2011

This is the latest in a series of adventures of my chessmen. Catch up with previous adventures here:

The Chessmen's Holiday

Chessmen in the Garden

Fool's Mate

Wedding on the Chessboard

Secret Moves

Chessmen at the Zoo

Gone Fishing