White sacrifices a center pawn and keeps Black's center congested -- a truly unique approach!

This collection (22 games) was originally Compiled by Miguel Medina. Thank you Miguel!

* Starting Out: French Defense: Game Collection: Starting out : The French

* Alekhine's French Def: https://www.chessgames.com/perl/che...

* A few KIAs: Game Collection: Opening Ideas

* Advance French: Game Collection: Attacking with the French

* Black Defends: Game Collection: Opening repertoire black

* Masterful: Game Collection: FRENCH DEFENSE MASTERPIECES

* TFD: https://chessentials.com/category/l...

"In a gambit you give up a Pawn for the sake of getting a lost game" — Samuel Standidge Boden

Old Russian Proverb: "If you are given something, take it; if you are being beaten, run. (Дают — бери, а бьют — беги.)"

"It's a short trip from the penthouse to the outhouse." ― Paul Dietzel

"Tough times don't last, tough people do, remember?" — Gregory Peck

"If you want it, work for it."

nova

Caissa, The Chess Lord.

Lord, I play three hundred hours of chess,
indeed, Lord, in thirty days more or less.
I have done my best under gruelling stress,
Yet I'm not happy with my snailing progress.
Yes, Lord. Caissa, to you I sadly do confess:
my constant losing has put me in distress.
I beg of you, Lord, Caissa, help me to re-assess so I can beat those who keep me in this mess.
Lord, with your blessing and your skills I guess I would always win and so powerfully aggress,
that all my opponents would humbly express:
hark here cometh the unbeatable king of chess.

This poem is dedicated to all
female chessplayers on Caissa's Web.

Sweet Caissa

Oh, Sweet Caissa, Goddess of chess
in the name of this holistic game
I pray Thee: bless my noble aim
to render all my opponents lame
in my holy quest for worldly fame,
to be Supreme no more no less.
In awe I heard this Sweet Caissa say
"Daughter go forth and smite them all,
stoutly charge your knight sitting tall
while flying over the castle's wall
to slay all men in your deadly call."
Now in fear I hide and will no longer play.

This poem is dedicated to
Peyton, Wizard Number 1 in chess
and true magician in poetry no less

Nova's Silent Prayer

Caissa, before Thee stands the erring little nova who wandered far and wide till rejected by Jehovah with downcast eyes he offers Thee a barrel of wine which will turn Thine winking eyes inte a woozy shine. Yet all he wants is but some real consideration
from the subjects in the Realm of Thine creation and this tiny favor that will put him in elation: to render perfect all his scripted chess notation.

This poem is dedicated to all members
who strive to become Masters of chess.

yakisoba's combination

in the middle of a cold Canadian winter night
a phantom creature was riding a stallion knight
but lo and behold it is the man called yakisoba
together with a bishop and queen chasing nova.
though the old bishop was getting pooped out
the merry queen in her glory was bouncing about
while riding hard yakisoba grinningly thought
"I know what to do with that nova when caught."
there on top of the castle was nova in hiding
strapped to a kite for a quick get-away gliding, then trembling he realized to his consternation: he was being killed by the bishop-queen combination.

This poem is dedicated to Alex,
son of Lisa and John (SNOWBEAR).

The Cry of Snowbear's Son

Loyal subjects, hear ye hear ye all
The king's bishop invites you to a ball
The pawns,black and white are welcome too
merrily we'll dance the whole night through.
Snowbear's cry can be heard in this wintery night: go dog go fetch me that wild white night
who will with wit and charm lead the queen
away to his private pasture, so heavenly green.
Later that year the night kept prancing about
not looking well nor feeling so manly stout
then suddenly he knew he need no longer wait
as he heard his new born son loudly cry "checkmate".

This poem is dedicated to Chris Hadlock (CLH)
who gathered 20 rating points
while this poem was being composed.

Rating is Naught but a Number Thing

Said the black pawn flirtingly to the white queen, "Let me capture you so my needy master can hurry about Gathering more rating points to increase his worldly clout". Moving swiftly she asked "rating what does that mean"? Behind the castle's wall a snichering knight replied. "It's a number thing proclaiming who has the greater skill In manoeuvring us about at our witty master's will But the truth of this number thing by many is becried. Some masters blow up their little size as they sing While others make themselves look smaller than small. For hidden reasons tall is small and small is tall. But all in all rating is naught but a number thing."

This poem is dedicated to PhillA, who
sparked off the seed for this poem.

The Stark Naked King

When the challenge arrived from the ax wielding Philla "I must hurry and offer a bribe to his queen,thought nova, to avoid a merciless onslaught ending in bloody gore". Alas, the challenge had been secretely sent the day before. There he stood with ax and all at the castle's gate, While teasingly sending in a not-so-holy bishop as bait. High on the castle's wall nova bellowed: dump the boiling oil, To force the ax-man with his troups to screamingly recoil. To no avail, Philla hurled his castle straight upon the king, Who standing stark naked, tried to hide his private thing. So nova quickly conceded out of shameful desperation and Philla gently lowering the ax accepted nova's resignation.

This poem is dedicated to Harris
my chessplayer friend and literary commentator.

Chess The Final Metaphor

It was in a cesspool behind the place of his cousin Nick That in this pool of sewage, was born the freak called frick. On dark nights he hysterically wailed in his pool of slimy mess: "Oh why oh why, can't I play the game that humans call chess"? As the morning sun rose, begged the queen of the mighty king: Sire, can you not order the death of this awful filthy thing"? Wisely he replied: "no, I'll let frick live forever in distress While he must watch others enjoy themselves playing chess."

This poem is dedicated to all members
who have experienced the breaking of a gentleman's agreement.

He Know No Honor

Now in yonder obscurity live a bishop called Pork his tongue protruding like a two-pronged fork.
He say: nova dear, I will play you thirty/thirty then he quickly run, I say: that be little dirty. This Pork he say; sweet nova please grant me tie upon my honor as a holy man I do never lie.
He say: nova dear: I will play you thirty/thirty but he quickly run: I say that be more than little dirty to Pork this kindly nova say: I grant you draw
as Pork's time in present game all but gone he saw. he say: dear nova, I will play you thirty/thirty as he quickly run: I truly say that be fricken dirty. now always loudly to this Pork I shall tell
no more play me but evil one who live in hell.

This poem is dedicated to all Caissa's members
who understand that chess is but a game.

Chess is but a Game

As he secretly rode his knight out of the castle's gate, still believing that he could escape this inevitable fate, the sky broke open with an array of incredible light. and there smitten to the earth lay nova under his knight. I am who I am and always am, spoke this thundering voice and you, my friend nova, do not at all have another choice but to go forth south and north, west and east
loudly proclaiming the good Word to man and beast. Thus beset by the compelling voice from the broken sky nova set about explaining through the word the how and why. He travelled north and south, west and east never losing aim to let all Caissa's members know: chess is but a game.

This poem is dedicated to all Caissa members
who strongly believe in Freedom of Movement.

Chess Charter of Rights

Hear ye hear ye all in this great realm of our bewildered king, Free, Who has stomped, peeled and bedrivelled this here very strange decree. Which will soon if not later be delivered not so fresh from the press. And hence will be known as the Charter of Rights in the game of chess. You have the right to believe every tale no matter how small or how tall. But you don't have the right to peddle your beliefs not at all not at all. You have the right to the essentials of life if you know what I mean But you don't have the right to screwing around with my loving queen. You have the right to be here or there but you must always be somewhere. But you don't have the right jumping around at will from square to square. You have the right to move about only yes only on your master's indication. And that in accordance to My Rules and your predestined move limitation.

This poem is dedicated to all Caissa members
who strive to checkmate their opponents.

The Aroused Bishop

Whispered the pawn to the curious knight
You jump one square up and two to the right
On the diagonal where our queen lays in wait.
I will move up from b-seven to b- eight.
On the opposite side, no, no screamed the queen
Realizing she should have been heard not seen.
Because there, only hidden partially by the walls She saw him standing juggling his little balls.
The bishop so aroused by all of this inter-play
Could not, no he could not help but howlingly say: Oh, oh sweet queen you are mine for the take
While your checkmated king will burn at the stake.

This poem is dedicated to all Caissa members
who do not believe in dragging a game on and on.

The Pawn Who Had to Go

The little pawn screamed:"I cannot hold it any more, get me a pot or I will do exactly what I did before." Everybody laughed with the exception of the opposing king who guessed what was on the mind of this filthy thing. But nobody had time to fetch a pot or even a plastic bag They were too busy to ensure that the game became a drag. The guys in white kept running back and forth but no change. The guys in black stayed also within the very same range. Suddenly the unhappy pawn who had screamed for a pot, did a weird little dance while moving up one slot. Now standing near the king he simply pulled his pants down and peed straight up against the king's beautiful crown.

This poem is dedicated to all
Caissa members who are the Silent Majority.

The Silent Majority

Spoke the silent pawn to the opposing queen:
Your master is a filthy man and also very mean.
He does naught but curse and foulmouth my gentle master. Your king ought to punish him real fast if not faster. because we are all tired of his filthy ranting and raving. We want to play chess which is our gift and inborn craving. But if he is allowed to continue to act like a filthy prick, we'll catch him and drown him in the cesspool with frick. Replied the queen smilingly though in a very loud voice: Fear not silent majority because that is also our choice. So it came about,that one could hear in the deep of night an inhuman scream of the filthy man who died slowly of fright.