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James smith Oct 2017
The simple message of good, as a vulnerable creature that I am,
The hopeful message of good  
Was like a sword stabbing the main muscle that possession my darkest secrets lay like the gates of hell,
Stabbing the nature of errors that my Flash committed in the great rebellion of disobedience.
Like a white raven in the dark, so odd as it seems, peculiar as it seems the little voice that my inner ears listen to hear, whisper gently as I lend an ear you claim “even the monsters I can make clean, even in the darkest places my voice roars”
As the tenderness stays the sword lays. Truth flows like a river, like the River reaching the dead that lays in me, growth proceeds as this day
I can say in the peculiar times
As White as snow you can wash away
Our wrongful tracks, you can make the monsters as gentle as the night, as this day say, the good message is for bad, the bad can find kindness in The non sinful God.
This poem is simply about how can God turn the Bad into Good.
Where were you by Ghost ship was helping when I was writing this.
Tristan Brown Oct 2017
Music is a weapon
So I'll use it as my sword
This is a prelude to a much longer poem that I am still working on. However, when this line came to me. I knew that it could stand on its own.
Story Oct 2017
The warrior lost her shield in the mud
in the great back-beyond
of yesterday
She lifted the sword above her head
and shouted to somewhere far away
beyond today
Then charged headlong into the fray
Crafting scissors
Gardening shears
A pizza roller
Instruments of humble vivisection
I wield, I rend, I create.
Needles and pins,
Nimble and thin,
I pierce, I pull, I close.
With measured patience
I choose my weapons:
Ink, passion, time, and wit.
An armory of precision and gut.
Boulders bruise but roll away,
Fire burns, but I'm already ablaze,
Arrows lodge shallow or all fall short,
But the cold?
It slices.
The draining thought:
Is this the end of my creation -
Is there no more?
I slowly bleed out.
10.6.17
Inktober Prompt: Sword
Rules: The poem is whatever comes out of the pen, no edits allowed.
Andreas Simic Oct 2017
In light of the Las Vegas attack and as a poet wrote
This to honor the victims, those injured, their friends
And relatives who need support

Dare to Compare Pen and Sword©

In days of lore a sword was held in hand
Not a vest strapped to a chest

Terror a very strong feeling of fear
How far this is to what Poets hold dear

In younger days terror was contained in a nightmare
Not a bomb or a threat carelessly sent everywhere

How different are they from you and I
Both looking upward into the sky

They have a mother and father too
Often than naught they don’t have a clue what
Their offspring is up to

We may write for many a reason
Though their cause is more likely to end in treason

All have feelings galore to share
Even if theirs seem like they don’t care

Here I sit and lament how another explosion to prevent
Looking for an answer that may be from higher up sent

So what is our role at times like this, is it to write about
Happiness and bliss or those that we will miss

Is it my task to ask you to ponder and pause
Or coach you into looking for another cause

Know that there is good in everyone whether you
Be a daughter or a son

So my request might be to pick up a pen to deliver your message
A passage or two to get you through to removing the vest from your chest

Andreas Simic©
mjad Sep 2017
I wish my tongue was not a dagger
I wish my brain was not a sword
If only I could keep my tongue and mind from clashing
If only they would say the same words
Steve Page Sep 2017
Blogging or podding,
Googling, Yahoo-ing,
Texting, Twittering,
Face-timing, Instagraming,
Snapchating, WhatsApping,
Messaging, Pinteresting
or good old fashioned
contemplative Tumblring -
whatever you're casting
your thumbs will be moving
like proverbial lightning
- proving again
the might of the word
over the keenest, lunging sword.
"The pen is mightier than the sword."
avalon Aug 2017
is this rage my sword?
are those eyes her arrows?

                                                  is humanity an armory or an army?

when blood rains from the heavens
is it our reward
or our reckoning?

above all,

                                               is this sword for me? should i fall on it?
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