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Eleanor Rigby Aug 2015
I just feel there is
Something immortal
Inside our veins,
And perhaps I am conceited
But I mean it.

You make eternity
Possible with your gentle
swords of hands,
And perhaps I am defeated
But I feel it.


-- Eleanor
Liz Jul 2015
I swing my sword
At the monster inside me.
But the blade has been blunted,
It's dull and cannot ****.
What is a warrior without her sword?
Joan of Arc without her horse?

Stripped of my valor,
In the middle of war.
I do not have the means to fight anymore.
Left bare to the sun.
Where arrows can pierce
And daggers can jab.

Trying to create an image,
Which seemed so vivid before.
All my paint is dull
And all my canvas broken.
What is an artist without his brush?
Van Gogh without his hands?

The pain he must feel
When losing his only muse.
He lives through art,
So dies if he cannot paint.
I live through words,
I die if I cannot write.

Now god you've taken my legs.
How do I live,
When I cannot stand.
I fear I've lost my only light.
I fear I'm out of muse.
With nothing more to say.

Like a warrior without her sword.
Van Gogh without his hands.
My words are my legs,
And I cannot stand.
Devashish Kumar Jun 2015
A Promise for forever
Is a double headed sword.
Whether you make a promise or
Break one,
Either way you are *******.
Be careful.

Rockie May 2015
I often wonder what it's like,
To have a led a very different life,
Where camera flashes
And fans gate crashing concerts
Are really rather normal;
A life where sword throwing
And fire eating
Is how you earn your livings;
A journey where you are enrolled in other lives
And act a million more;
A destination, a goal, a life,
Where it isn't just plain old *me.
George Krokos May 2015
May all fellow poets and writers of the whole world unite
to show the flame of inspiration is now still burning bright.
We’re also aware of the fact that the pen is mightier than the sword
and that with inspired verses or stories people will never get bored.

The world as it is now is again on the brink of collapse
and so with our literary efforts we shouldn’t ever lapse.
We all have the power to change the world for the better
let us unite to speak and write with one motion together.

So many times in the past humanity has been laid low
because of its negligence to conscience writings show.
There are certain things written and handed down from the past
that indicate the way we’re heading now these days are our last.

We must reset the example of truth, righteousness and love
which will assure us to get much needed help from above.
There is no real limit to what we all united can achieve
if we stand together and each other don’t try to deceive.

We are all one big family that is now struggling to survive
so in doing what we can to help one another we will thrive.
With our collective efforts we must turn the situation around
and at the same time keep both our feet firmly on the ground.

For the good of the whole world then we must move forward
and stop the current trend of mankind from plunging toward
in the depths and fires of hell it has been to many times before
as it ignores the inner voice of conscience prior to another fall.
_________________
Written in 2013.
What would you be if YOU were gonna
entertain people With your imagination
would you start a company
to wreak havoc for the sick at heart
would you be an actor
lying, I-mean playing your part
would you go on the big screen
or perform on the stage live
and perform stunts and tell jokes
to all the local tribes
would you construct a gas fire
in front of an elephant
would you use skimpy girls
to dance, have fun, for merriment
or would you go the dramatic route
and construct a story
about an unknown ******
where the hero has to track him down
without getting killed
would your swords clash
would the murderer have a gun advantage
would the hero have to duck and dodge
to deliver them a happy ending
roll under a car an wait for the time to strike
if you made entertainment
what would you construct tonight?

I wrote a poem
NotMyRealName May 2015
Fling yourself at his feet and leave your fate in his sole grey eye
His tree was of the world
but his secrets were his alone    
He wasn't an All Father
His wine was spiced with blood    
Men know the price of madness
but what of boys
Left to shape their bodies in the forge
For some, there had been no hammer
Except the one they held      
No water to cool their molten steel
Except for the well they found
But the fire was fed all day long      
Liquid metal writing on the surface spilling into one shape and out of another
Over and over
No weapon can forge itself
But **** it
I'll try
JR Falk Apr 2015
This was never meant to hurt you.
It was a simple miscommunication,
a stumble of words.
"Words" can be so easily misspelled to say "swords,"
and swords can impale.
I suppose words can, too.
drabble.
Swords that clash and clang with might,
Blood is spilled but still they fight,
For honor, glory, money, land,
Or little child with helpless hand?

They fight to save those who are weak,
Those who think themselves too meek,
They fight for those who fell before,
And of course those they adore.

Defenders of what they think right,
Neither wrong, just filled with fright.
The Other's thoughts are strange and new,
And change is something they won't do.

Neither wants to fight this war.
No-one likes the blood and gore.
But they will fight till Other falls,
To keep them from each other's walls.

A difference is a war-like shout,
That causes fights and fearsome doubt.
But difference is a coloured sky,
and beauty to the naked eye.

Difference- while the start of war,
Is splendor, charm, and so much more.
It is grandeur to behold,
And worth much more than precious gold.
I didn't really like the how this poem ended but it's good enough for me to post (for now).
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