Is it a curse that words do fight
Inside a head of a poetry knight
Slaying and loving crying and joy
Now the ink shall spill tonight

Saving a maiden from dragons of lore
Sailing the oceans is never a bore
Giving love to maidens fair
Whilst caressing your soft honey hair

So many things make a poet knight
Clad in armour with pen held tight
Riding on the back of the page at night
Hoping that words can rage
Or sing a song to distant mermaids

To be a hero or villan to boot
A poem can make whatever it suits
So hold that pen like a sword
And let those words spill out
On unsuspecting hordes