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From The Tempest: Miranda and Ferdinand playing chess

Image: Wikipedia
The Chess Players attributed to Karel van Mander. This was identified in 1916 as an image of Ben Jonson and Shakespeare playing chess. Most scholars consider this to be pure speculation, but the claim was revived in 2004 by Jeffrey Netto, who argued that the chess game symbolises “the well known professional rivalry between these figures in terms of a battle of wits”.

Update: 2016 – Shakespeare died 400 years ago and today is Shakespeare day! I’ve decided to repost an entry of 4 years ago. Please enjoy my ‘contribution’ to Shakespeare day. The following is my entry of 2012.

I’ve written another cento – I had to, because it’s a chess one! I’ve taken again Shakespeare lines – like my Moonrider-cento , where I also used Shakespeare. A cento is a form of poetry, where you use lines of different poems. In this case [like Moonrider], I’ve used lines of Shakespeare’s works – and not different poems. This cento was much easier to put together than Moonrider, as they are shorter lines and I didn’t really spent that much time thinking how to merge it into a poem that makes sense. I couldn’t give it a title other than ‘A Game of Chess’. I have made minor changes here and there – to the word order or adding of an exclamation mark – just for effect. This ‘poem‘ is almost like a dialogue – as it’s various characters speaking in role from Shakespeare’s plays.

A Game of Chess
Sweet lord, you play me false
For a score of kingdoms you should wrangle
and I would call it fair play
How fares the king?
His hour is almost past

A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!
And I have horse – will follow where the game makes way.
I have his horse!
Give me another horse!
So, the good horse is mine.
My day’s delight is past, my horse is gone.
The rascal hath removed my horse.

Are the knights ready to begin their triumph?
A wandering knight?
I am undone! The knight is here!
Great shouts within all cry ‘the mean knight!’
Great is the humour of this dreadful knight.

I dare thereupon pawn
My life I never held but as a pawn
I have not pawn’d to you my majesty?
I pawn’d thee none!
I’ll send some bishop to entreat
The bishop will be overborne by thee
Wat says my bully rook?

There stands my castle!
His queen, it was his queen!
Queen of queens, how far dost thou excel?
Come hither, come! Come, come, and take a queen
Sir your queen must overboard!
Will take your queen
Farewell sweet queen!

I’ll move the king.
The skipping king, he ambles up and down
This may gall him for some check
No mates for you!
We’ll draw!
My lord, your son drew my master
Where’s the master? Play the men!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown 

[Shakespeare-lines -]
Click on this link to read more about the Cento and to read what Folger Education think about my cento. I feel humble – you can view their comments in their comments box. Thank you!

–Click on this link to see the complete list of chess quotes with the references to the works of Shakespeare.

Enjoy Shakespeare day with some chess dancing!

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sa

This is one of my own poems. It is a cento. A cento is a poem written using other author’s lines or passages. This ‘cento’ though has been written using my own poems. The poems I used are all from my Afrikaans poems. I do write English too, but as I said before, it’s just playing with words. I don’t try to be professional. I decided a few years ago to do my ‘bit’ for Afrikaans on the 14th August every year. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen last year and I couldn’t let another year go by without having one on this day! This is the history behind the 14th August.

The Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners (Afrikaans for “Society of Real Afrikaners”) was formed on 14 August 1875 in the town of Paarl by a group of Afrikaans speakers from the current Western Cape region. From 15 January 1876 the society published a journal in Afrikaans called Die Afrikaanse Patriot (“The Afrikaans Patriot”) as well as a number of books, including grammars, dictionaries, religious material and histories. Die Afrikaanse Patriot was succeeded in 1905 by today’s Paarl newspaper. You can read more about this Society on this link on the site of Wikipedia.

If you are Afrikaans,  I hope you enjoy these couple of lines.

seagold-

My siel op haelwit wolke

In gietende reën sypel my gedagtes: eindloos!
Ek stuur vir jou die goud
van sondeurdrenkte landskappe
in die galery van my stille gemoed.
My opgevoude gedagtes steek vas
en onderhou my geheue
wat onvermydelik verstrengel is
en soos gister
vind jy my siel op haelwit wolke;
my gedagtes wentel om die aura van my taal
en rol ragfyn ligstraaltjies voor my uit:
wat die tuimelende bergstilte
laat rol oor die dansende blou waters
na die holtes van my gedagtes.

==Nikita 14/08/2015 


Mantovani is one of my real big favourites. On this video you’ll find a whole library of his music to keep you company. I hope you enjoy!

If you are a regular reader of my blog, you would know that I do play chess myself too. I’ve blogged quite a few chess games in the past. This is one of my most recent chess games on chess.com Time is little to play rated chess games and I was tricked into this game, but managed to escape the worst. Rated games involve more concentration and I tend to play friendlies just for fun and I feel I can ‘escape’ or shut down from normal work and enjoy the game. 

chesscom
I like how I managed to checkmate my opponent, though he was very close to checkmate me! I played white in this game – not my favourite colour, as I discovered I play better games when I play black. If you are interested, please click here to play through the game. If you are a chess player yourself, please feel free to leave a comment and Dan, if you read here, you might want to analyse my game…hehe.

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image: googleimages

CENTO
A poem consisting only of lines from other poems. This, from the Italian word for patchwork, is almost a technique rather than a form, especially as it can be of any length, and any metre, and need not rhyme; however, as the finished poem is referred to as a cento, just as a sonnet is called a sonnet, it is a form.

This is not my own poem. It’s actually not even a ‘real’ poem. All these lines are Shakespeare’s writing. What I’ve done, was to take lines – with the same theme, which is the moon, and put them together – and I was trying to get it to make sense. The title is my own though, of course. This is what  you call a ‘cento.’

I do love Shakespeare and my favourite is Hamlet, maybe because it was the book prescribed when it was my matric-year. It was always a nightmare, having to study Shakespeare and knowing all those quotes – I think I studied about 50 of the quotes. We had to know from what Act/Scene the quote was and you never knew which quotes you would get, but even that didn’t put me off from Shakespeare.

Moonrider

The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth
It is the very error of the moon
Swifter than the wandering moon
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon
This old moon wanes!
She lingers my desires

Sweet moon, I thank thee for they sunny beams
So many journeys
That I, being govern’d by the waterymoon
Of the extreme verge:
for all beneath the moon
You moonshine revellers and shades of night
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!

Another moon: but, o, methinks, how slow
And the moon changes even as your mind
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon
My lord, I am a mile beyond the moon

-Shakespeare-‘lines’ (c) Nikita

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image:weatherphotos.org

This is a rough translation of my Afrikaans poem, which I wrote first and James, a blog reader asked then to ‘translate; -so here goes:

Folded memories
Slowly and quietly,
in pouring rain –
my mind seeped: endless!
in the nuances of silent calls
to dust-loaded, plastered
and mutilated places.
Dusted images commuted by
my folded thoughts –
that voluntarily escaped
a Hillbrow of yesteryear
—nikita-

Opgevoude herinneringe
Traag en stilweg,
in gietende reën –
sypel my gedagtes: eindloos!
in nuanses van stille gesprekke
na stofbelaaide, toegepleisterde
en verminkte plekke.
Afgestofde beelde pendel deur
my opgevoude gedagtes –
wat onwillekeurig onstnap
na ‘n Hillbrow van vervloë

–nikita – 14/7/2012 – en ja, ek is die blogeienaar, nie soos iemand op
twitter
gedink het dat ‘nikita‘ ‘n ander persoon is [nogal ‘n digter wat welbekend is] wie se gedigte hier neergeplak word nie. [lol] Sien die twitter-gesprekke op die link.
Hierdie inskrywing oor Hillbrow was die inspirasie vir hierdie gegriffel. Nadat ek die inskrywing gemaak het, moes ek net iets in die vorm van wat hier is, skryf. Miskien eerder die paar woorde in plaas van die inskrywing! Hoe ookal, dis die gedagtes wat ek van ontslae wou raak, sodat ‘n ander reis onderneem kon word. 

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We drove off this afternoon – I wanted to keep my sanity, with all the marking of GCSE Coursework – and took the road down where we live into the countryside. The first photo was taken about 500m from our house and the others – as we travelled down Chartridge Lane. Photo 13 and 14 were taken along the road which I travel daily. I have more pics to share, but thought to spoil you a bit later with more. Seasons in the northern hemisphere change rapidly. Now you see bare trees, now you don’t! We new those lovely colours would be gone by next week and I’m glad I was in time to show you what it looks like during Autumn where we live now. Enjoy the Autumn-poems too.

Die plekkie waar ons bly is nie baie groot nie, maar heelwat groter as wat ek gedink het. Wat klein is, is die besigheidsarea – daar’s nie ‘n verskeidenheid van winkeltjies nie. Wat wel lekker is, is hulle Boeremark op Saterdae. Heerlike vars groente en vrugte is te koop. Ons naburige Amersham – byna 1 myl van hier af, het ‘n groot en lekker Tesco wat 24 uur oop is en hulle hoofstraat word in die week toegemaak en dan’s daar ook ‘n straatmark. Die twee plekkies – Chesham en Amersham – het altwee ‘n baie ou gedeelte wat hulle die “old town” noem. Ek het foto’s geneem van Chesham se old town gedeelte, alhoewel dit ‘n klein gedeelte is, Amersham se gedeelte is groter en ek gaan Saterdag daar lekker foto’s neem om te blog. Albei die plekkies het geboue wat dateer uit Doomsday! Dit skep natuurlik atmosfeer wat jy nie sommer kan beskryf nie. Natuurlik is daar ook hordes villages al om hierdie areas, baie klein. Hierdie Pub in hierdie possie is in so ‘n klein village afgeneem – “The Lee”.

Vroegherfs: NP van Wyk Louw

Die jaar word ryp in goue akkerblare,
in wingerd wat verbruin, en witter lug
wat daglank van die nuwe wind en klare
son deurspoel word; elke blom word vrug,
tot selfs die traagstes; en die eerste blare val
so stilweg in die rookvaal bos en laan,
dat die takke van die lang populiere al
teen elke ligte môre witter staan.
O Heer, laat hierdie dae heilig word:
Laat alles val wat pronk en sieraad was
of enkel jeug, en ver was van die pyn;
laat ryp word, Heer, laat u wind waai, laat stort
my waan, tot al die hoogheid eindelik vas
en nakend uit my teerder jeug verskyn.
Uit Vroegherfs

To Autumn by William Blake


O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain’d
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou may’st rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

‘The narrow bud opens her beauties to
The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
Till clust’ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
And feather’d clouds strew flowers round her head.

‘The spirits of the air live in the smells
Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round
The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.’
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,
Then rose, girded himself, and o’er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

N.P. Van Wyk Louw

Ek kry ’n klein klein beiteltjie,

ek tik hom en hy klink;

toe slyp ek en ek slyp hom

totdat hy klink en blink.

Ek sit ’n klippie op ’n rots:

– mens moet jou vergewis:

’n beitel moet kan klip breek

as hy ’n beitel is –

ek slaat hom met my beiteltjie

en dié was sterk genoeg:

daar spring die klippie stukkend

so skoon soos langs ’n voeg:

toe, onder my tien vingers bars

die grys rots middeldeur

en langs my voete voel ek

die sagte aarde skeur,

die donker naat loop deur my land

en kloof hom wortel toe –

só moet ’n beitel slaan

wat beitel is, of hoé?

Dan, met twee goue afgronde

val die planeet aan twee

en oor die kranse, kokend,

verdwyn die vlak groen see

en op die dag sien ek die nag

daar anderkant gaan oop

met ’n bars wat van my beitel af

dwarsdeur die sterre loop.

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shakespeare-wordle

Sonnet 46

Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,
How to divide the conquest of thy sight;
Mine eye my heart thy picture’s sight would bar,
My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.
My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,
A closet never pierc’d with crystal eyes
But the defendant doth that plea deny,
And says in him thy fair appearance lies.
To side this title is impannelled
A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart;
And by their verdict is determined
The clear eye’s moiety, and the dear heart’s part:
As thus; mine eye’s due is thy outward part,
And my heart’s right, thy inward love of heart.

Shakespeare

Have fun and create your own Wordle here. The link will open in a new window. Follow the link and copy/paste your text and…voila! This is my Shakespeare contribution and I hope you enjoy it too!

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no, it is an ever-fixèd mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his heighth be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
   If this be error and upon me proved,
   I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
   So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

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blue-rose

Image: crystalphoenixgallery.com..’blue rose’

What if life is a dream, are we the imagination of ourselves?

whatif

What if
I figure out how to be arrogant
and land on an angel’s mantle
to dial the word love
and play hide and seek
in the shadows of your breath

What if
I figure out how to keep my distance
and play merry tunes
alongside the river banks
on my wooden flute
while capturing your soul in my mind

What if
I figure out how to surf your mind
and make bed in your memories
with your thoughts as my pillow
and play my xylophone tunes
on the solitary hills
of your everlasting trust

What if
I figure out how to take
occasionally rides
on petals of love
and drink a cup of sunlight
in the chambers of your heart
where thoughts of love
may prevail
and my mind gets entwined
instinctively forever
with your courageous spirit
What if!

–©Nikita–29 November 2008

surfing

image: rafaelhenrique.com


Roger Wittaker: I don’t believe in if anymore

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