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selina Jan 2020
It took a few years to find ourselves.
In that time, my hair grew out,
and your height grew tall.
We grew like sunflowers.

All the other girls wanted crowns,
along with a Prince Charming,
while I took up fencing, and learned
how to shoot a basketball properly.

You learned the arts, how to
play sharp staccatos and paint pastel skies,
while the boys your age were
breaking windows with baseballs.

Your performances stunned the crowds.
Your fingers moved mountains.
You came to my competitions.
My saber moved faster than light.

From a distance, was how we grew.
We were the sky and the sea,
watching each other from a distance.
So close, yet so far apart.
Star BG Jan 2020
En-garde fellow poet
who stands with gold pen sword.
Raise thy weapon and duel with me
in bout with words.
My tool be sharp with potent prose.
sonneteer stand is ready to fight

Yes En-garde I say
for be know to slain one with a  mighty song.
And I am Known to gather crowds
who watch many a victory

Un-garde I echo with parry to cut thy thoughts.
With sabre pen sharp with ink red.
Perhaps than you shall bleed
as we will meet upon ground of page.

En--garde you who cast a shadow
of judgment with they eyes
For battle shall commence
on Fields a plenty
And I will win a sun for sure.
just playing with thoughts of fencing with a pen
Star BG Apr 2019
And with sword like pens
we will duel Inside hearts
creatively fencing our way
through a poem.
Un-guard the moments right.
Touché the air is sweet.
I bow...we both win.
Just playing with words
gray rain Apr 2016
Everyone here seems to know each other
not like a son knows his mother
but they know each other

and I'm sat looking over
hundreds of people
yet alone I feel

in an unknown city
with people wearing white
people dressed to fight

they fight with swords
but not with shields
in straight lines
is where they choose to shine
That blue fabric so rough against my skin. The familiar grated vision. Supple worn leather loosely hangs on my finger tips. Wind comes through the small hole on the side of the black. My extended arm lets off a string of silver attacks. Blocked by the masked figure before me. We begin the dance of death. Only one shall prevail. Red shall fall on our black and white forms.

— The End —