"sabre" poems
Armageddon Auckland
Thanks now stalking
Yoda anything
Motion sensor
6 phrases
Glowing sabre
Cute and small
Tough as guts
Gentle Wise, Nuts
Anythings possible
Just gotta believe
Be positive
Dream
This is the Force
Of Course ...
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
Insult not a memory.
So blessed with kindness.
Touched with honey.
Stoked with decency.
Painted from soft brush.
Gentle sable.
Lower the sabre.
The powerful sword.
With hilt of guilt.
Let it be.
Not aggressive being.
Distressed.
Depressed.
Acrid tears.
Acid tongue.
Lemon lips.
Evil sharp,
So bitter.
Discarded amid leaf litter.
The autumn leaves they fell.
Deep within the mist.
Memories withheld.
Can’t you tell?
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 6:24 PM UTC
Puisque de Sisteron à Nantes,
Au cabaret, tout français chante,
Puisque je suis ton échanson,
Je veux, ô Française charmante,
Te fredonner une chanson ;
Une chanson de ma manière,
Pour toi d'abord, et mes amis,
En buvant gaiement dans mon verre
À la santé de ton pays.
Amis, buvons à la Fortune
De la France, Mère commune,
Entre Shakespeare et Murillo :
On y voit la blonde et la brune,
On y boit la bière... et non l'eau.
Doux pays, le plus doux du monde,
Entre Washington... et Chauvin,
Tu baises la brune et la blonde,
Tu fais de la bière et du vin.
Ton cœur est franc, ton âme est fière ;
Les soldats de la Terre entière
T'attaqueront toujours en vain.
Tu baises la blonde et la bière
Comme on boit la brune et le vin.
La brune a le con de la lune,
La blonde a les poils... du mâtin...
Garde bien ta bière et ta brune,
Garde bien ta blonde et ton vin !
On tire la bière de l'orge,
La baïonnette de la forge,
Avec la vigne on fait du vin.
Ta blonde a deux fleurs sur la gorge,
Ta brune a deux grains de raisin.
L'une accroche sa jupe aux branches,
L'autre sourit sous les houblons :
Garde bien leurs garces de hanches,
Garde bien leurs bougres de cons.
Pays vaillant comme un archange,
Pays plus *** que la vendange
Et que l'étoile du matin,
Ta blonde est une douce orange,
Mais ta brune ah !... sacré mâtin !
Ta brune a la griffe profonde ;
Ta rousse a le teint du jasmin ;
Garde-les bien ! Garde ta blonde
Garde-la, le sabre à la main.
Que tes canons n'aient pas de rouilles,
Que tes fileuses de quenouilles
Puissent en paix rire et dormir,
Et se repose sur tes couilles
Du présent et de l'avenir.
C'est sur elles que tu travailles
Sous les toisons d'ombre ou d'or fin :
Garde-les des regards canailles,
Garde-les du coup d'œil hautain !
Pays galant, la langue est claire
Comme le soleil dans ton verre,
Plus que le grec et le latin ;
Autant que ta blonde et ta bière
Garde-la bien, comme ton vin.
Pays plus beau que le Soleil, Lune,
Étoile, aube, aurore et matins.
Aime bien ta blonde et ta brune,
Et fais-leur... beaucoup de catins !
3k
There was a small fly who flew in my ear,
All cosy and warm, with nothing to fear.
A harmless existence, though short on sun,
He beat his wings against my ear drum.
''Its in my ear!!'', I cried in shock,
Whilst those stood round began to mock.
ENOUGH of THIS, my new, near neighbour!
(The car key was ******
in pain I cussed. . .)
But calm was restored with my makeshift sabre :)
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 12:03 PM UTC
When muskets shattered bones within the chest,
an era slipped from time; new shadows born
where history cast its cape on Budapest.
Their fate entombed in honour; doom the guest.
No haven in their valour, loudly worn,
when muskets shattered bones within the chest.
The sabre steel lies dormant in its quest,
its master slain in scarlet fields of corn,
where history cast its cape on Budapest.
One leader freed; damnation for the rest.
Thirteen there stood; thirteen then shot at dawn,
when muskets shattered bones within the chest.
These Arad martyrs, ever standing lest
long centuries erode the passion borne
where history cast its cape on Budapest.
Glasses do not kiss, by grief’s request.
Laid quietly the ghosts that gently mourn
where muskets shattered bones within the chest
when history cast its cape on Budapest.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 11:59 AM UTC
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismayed?
Not tho' the soldiers knew
Someone had blundered:
Theirs was not to make reply,
Theirs was not to reason why,
Theirs was but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to the right of them,
Cannon to the left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volleyed and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell,
Rode the six hundred.
Flashed all their sabres bare,
Flashed as they turned in air,
Sab'ring the gunners there,
Charging and army, while
All the world wondered:
Plunging in the battery smoke,
Right through the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reeled from the sabre-stroke
Shattered and sundered.
Then they rode back, but not--
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to the right of them,
Cannon to the left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that fought so well,
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of the six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
Oh, the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble Six Hundred!
2.5k
The flags interweave in a synchronous pace.
A pattern is formed and dissolves into space.
Kaleidoscope movement and the swish of a sabre.
What flows like dance is a pain and hard labor.
Glitter and make-up fluff and curls for the show.
But there's nothing soft about the rifles they throw.
The best part of the guard is not seen by the eye.
It's teamwork and sharing and daring to try.
When the show's over and the props put away.
There's always more practice and some time to play.
So just when you think the guard is all done.
Somewhere in a gym, they're still having fun.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 9:09 PM UTC
Random mortar shells in the afternoon.
Sparkling, steel jacketed rain drops,
Glinting rainbows of reflected sunlight.
Plastic explosive seat cushions upon which passers-by,
Rest their weary bones.
C-4 candy bars, nuclear toothpaste,
****** for dessert.
Orphanage flambe', hospital hash, blood pudding.
Human burgers sizzling on a smart bomb bar-b-que grill.
Finger food, toe jam, baby-back ribs.
Bureaucratic double talkers,
Sugar coated body counts,
Colateral stew.
Really deplorable, awfully sorry,
But it was their own faults trying to put on raincoats.
They declined our invitation to the cook-out.
Bad luck to open an umbrella in the house.
Remotely piloted funeral processions.
Radar guided hearses.
Televised in real time.
Precision, surgical,
neutralized, deterrent, disarmed,
Deactivated, stand down, eliminate.
Living pawns on a battlefield checkerboard.
Strategic, defensive,
Dominate, annihilate,
Acceptable loss, public opinion pole.
Listen to the tinkling of sabre blades,
Rattling windchimes,
In the warm breeze of the shockwave,
Accompanied by the drumbeat of detonation and concussion.
Rock...
...and heads will roll.
Holy, blessed,
Patriotic, brave,
Courageous, dedicated,
Heroic, dutiful,
Self sacrificing...
******
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
My world is a radiant caramel dewdrop,
amidst the blissful blades of chocolate grass
that flourish like an expert sabre,
waiting to sever me from bleak reality
and the coldest of darknesses.
My world is the battlefield of imagining,
waged between the disembodied armies
of beautiful youth and frantic existence.
My world is an upside-down fairy tale,
where the princesses are sovereign and joyous,
but soon locked away by charming princes.
Where the absent shoe is found at a ball
and is never worn again.
My world is a creation of innocence,
with generous fountains of exuberance,
and a statues built after words unsaid.
My world is the autocracy of rapture.
I am king, hear me roar.
The invisibles and the less-importants
are tacitly knocking against the door
of my nougat castle, intruders!
Arm the guards! Foot the gates!
Let it be known that my world
shall not fall to mere accusations
of "autistic" and "challenged"!
I am king! Hear me roar!
Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 7:51 PM UTC
Don’t fear your fear
Or even anxiety –
Nagging Neurosis:
Even if it makes you pour with sweat
And tremble.
Don’t fight your fear,
Or seek to suppress it.
Don’t dumb it down
With tranquilisers and the like.
No need to be Superman,
Nor Wonder Woman.
No need for Spock-like Volcan
Emotional mind-control.
You aint a wimp
Because you are afraid.
Don’t bury your fear
Or shake it off.
Just Listen to it!
For Fear’s a Warning.
It’s doing a job.
A Red or Yellow Alert.
Warning You
About what?
Through fear we survive
To thrive.
In bygone days it saved us
From dinosaurs and sabre-toothed
Tigers.
What is the danger now?
What are you doing wrong?
How are you putting yourself
At risk?
What terrors lie along this path?
What are your instincts whispering
In your ear?
Intuition tells you what?
What is there to fear?
Just listen
And feel.
Embrace your fear.
Survive
To thrive.
Paul Butters
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
My emblem is the Lion, and I breathe
The breath of Libyan deserts o’er the land;
My sickle as a sabre I unsheathe,
And bent before me the pale harvests stand.
The lakes and rivers shrink at my command,
And there is thirst and fever in the air;
The sky is changed to brass, the earth to sand;
I am the Emperor whose name I bear.
1.5k
*The camel she rode was doddering, on its last legs,
the way she petted it, all along the caravan's route
made them think that she wouldn't bear its inevitable fate.
Not loosing her cool, she gets down, views the looming desert,
others are puzzled, unfathomable is her mind,
alacritous she is, draws her sabre, cuts open the camel, with her deft hands
water in the desert is more precious than love,
that exceeds the prescribed time limit, her act speaks aloud,
no one moves, stunned not even knowing what they feel,
then realize, in a desert tender feelings are short-lived, like new blooms.
What a desert human life has become of late
in silence they contemplate as they leave behind the camel's carcass*
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
Well I'm ridin through the crossroads
on a midnight jet black horse,
got my pistol cocked and my sabre sheathed
,but loosely as a matter of course-
In the past I could let my guard down,
but Tonight I must not fail,
I'm like Jonah riding in the belly of the beast
while Ahab takes aim at the whale,
screaming from Hells heart I stab at thee for hate I spit my last breath
but tonight's my night
the coin's just took flight will it be life or endless death?,
I'm a wanted man with a blackened name,
and the hunter's have my scent,
but it's my one true love who I've got to save,
so on her rescue I'm Hellbent.
And the hell in there is not a turn of phrase,
she's in the grip of Satan's kin,
and if silver and steel can't save her soul,
I'll trade my own straight in.
because Sweet Alice always warned me
'bout the company I kept,
but I ignored her wisdom and for my sins,
she was taken while I slept,
by a Hell spawned demon creature
straight from Lucifer's darkest dream,
and her sob of fear is all I could hear,
now I'm haunted by that scream,
and for 11 years I've faced all my fears
on an evil infested trail,
a Witch woman omen caster told me I could save her with the holy grail.
I turn to see the demon following me
thru the gloom and misty hail,
and for the thousandth time I curse my oath to quest for the holy grail,
but Sweet Alice needs me to be strong,
and so I must not fail,
to face hell's hordes and save her soul I must find the holy grail
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 7:15 PM UTC
I see fields of grey metal grass suspended on columns so one can walk underneath
This metal grass is blown by a slight green breeze and sways to and fro
Sharp growing swords, sabre sharp, spike from its gray clay
A blue sun beats down from an electrically charged sky
Now I feel, I must, compelled by the most insatiable of urges
Step into a chaos an exodus
Towards the wastelands of fragmentation and depletion
Where fictions are invented daily and all images change
Where the shadows of life disappear in desperation.
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 3:46 PM UTC
They came
from the west
when the sea
was still a coastline
and the sabre tooth tiger
roamed the land alongside
the wooly mammoth
For millenia they arrived
even as the coastline
became a bridge
and then a stepping stone
and then the sea
They came to find
an unknown and distant
but beckoning and certain
patch of earth where
their lives would matter
and their destiny
would be determined
by their own hands
They found new ground
to build their homes
where they lived
within their means
and their needs
and flourished
alongside others
by understanding
that their own way of life
would be secured
by respecting others
and that war
is too high a price
for more
In time they came
from the east
and it is in this land that
those who sought a better life
traveled in opposite directions
to find their journey's end
They shared a common vision
fueled by purpose
and determination
to live in freedom guided
by their hearts and minds
unchained by tyranny
or intolerance
and it is in this land
that we will gain
what freedom brings
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 3:12 PM UTC
The weight of the world
as it waits for the red, red earth to move
a collective breath held
as a personal fear is shared
For a news cycle, we care
and choke a little at the tiny coffin
before clowns and sabre-rattlers
blind us from the graves behind
Feb 8, 2022
Feb 8, 2022 at 2:25 AM UTC
Some drive big cars,
Brag of deep scars
To prove they have big ******
Some grow goatees,
Axe down huge trees,
Or chew on edible *******
Real men, I've heard, eat Wheaties,
Enjoy lap dance stripteases,
Build towers with their empties,
The bravado is relentless.
Kim Jong Un,
Thinks his long
In his munchkin hands.
He does private battle
With his androgynous name;
While playing with lead soldiers;
Unsheathing a stainless sabre,
Lighting up his candles,
To show he's macho manly.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 10:32 AM UTC
It’s taken you’re fed up
With politicized debate
And the fools who do brinkmanship’s
Scared world of hate.
And the ghouls who eat babies
As pawns in their game
In their scrawny white penis’s
Sad quest for fame.
Where the sick sabre rattlers
Cavort with their ploys
Of destroying old satellites
To show off their toys.
To drape flags of challenge
With threat weave inbound
Across mantles of aspirants
Desirous to be crowned.
Intimidating tactics
From they with the gun
Against all the challengers
Emerging at run.
From China to terrorist
The gauntlet’s thrown,
You cross our line
There's no mercy shown.
And we little guys sit
In our quiet, timid way,
Whilst the gigantic ego's
Jostling holds sway.
Whilst the arrogant right
Profess to have God,
And the rest of us cower
In fear, like a dog.
And the sun comes up
With a glorious show
And the nuclear dust
In the air is aglow,
And the rich and the famous
Are dead in their beds
And the ***** and the cockroaches
Nibble their heads.
It’s all such a waste
In a terrible way
When the General’s pushed buttons
And had such a day....
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
10 February 2011
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 7:19 PM UTC
As far as wars go
It's a bit of a bore,
But we are at war.
Trade war tariffs:
Monetary missiles,
Cyber attackers:
Heat-seeking hackers.
Yes, hot wars are so passé.
Cold wars,
So-called Star Wars:
All in the past.
Silent battlers
Not sabre rattlers.
Keyboard warriors
No F15s nor Harriers.
Masters of Sanctions
Not Masters of War.
Expelling diplomats
And tit-for-tats.
It's a new World War,
But it's a bore,
So pay attention,
Don't get complacent,
The war drones on.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
the war they say is many centuries away,
different continental breakfast, different time warp zone
there is an ocean and a sea between...well, understanding and action
then they don't understand war,
they don't know what it is to fight a cause, except for personal gain
they hired people to do just that, the fighting part
as a matter of fact,
they cut them lose
with out a thought
that when the soldier came back, they brought
more back
with them than they could handle,
faces of strangers, places of danger, all you are glad is you day is done and a rucksack under your head, lives of friends and pieces left behind,
then why does it take a battle while some one on some Hill
rattles
a sabre, cutting what is approriate care for someone whose
mind is still there, war changes you, if it doesn't and you don't
adapt to fight a war...YOU DIE.
sadly though no one has learned
that it is burned, into your brain,
into the heart that earned
respect of peers and villagers,
well diggers, and such,
cattle drovers, but no one,
but no one knows, how to reset, refresh, return to the naive
state of mind where the past is blinded to your present life,
where the army sees you as broken out of policy, how words
on paper know people right to their guts, beats the crap out of me.
It is more than hugs and teddy bears
they need to know you sent them there
and you were not over on sandy ridges,
or I E D bridges, and culverts, patrolling
but hang onto them
to show you care, and will always be there when
they argue with a loved one, startle when others
make a loud noise, cry when every one else is laughing,
or just need a moment to collect their scattered thoughts.
I have never served, in a war zone,
I left the army many, many years ago,
I know now, I would have been changed, if it me returning as damaged goods
some may have thought my actions deranged
but all I would be trying to do is get the fresh air in to my lungs
and stop the tears as they stung my eyes, but there is no one to hold my hand.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
So I'm sat minding my own business just watching the unicorns play tagg.
Risky I know when you have a light sabre with a blown bulb strapped like a *** toy to your swede.
This old guy sits next to me an asks "Do you paint?"
Before it registers he says "All we had in common?"
I said, I have a bit but I realise I'm somewhere else.
Who do you mean I ask?
****** of course
I then realise I'm having a chat with Winston Churchill.
The unicorns should have been the big clue it was a dream or I was dead shouldn't they.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 3:30 PM UTC
Over untallied millennia,
roiling Gunnison waters
sliced through southern Colorado
schist and gneiss like a sabre -
carving tower walls of black rock
ribboned with tableaus of
pegmatite and mica flakes
flickering in the mid-day sun.
2,000 feet below, meandering
through its stark canyon walls
like some legendary serpent,
the Gunnison murmurs softly -
resting on its laurels.
Robert Charles Howard
September 2019
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 10:45 AM UTC
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.
Jan 4, 2020
Jan 4, 2020 at 11:26 PM UTC
heart beat hammers as i
appear to study holy
horoscopes over green tea
and grand gestures
i'm sure you've come to
tell me where your
hack sawed heart still
lies, barely beating,
instead i learn of your
new found freedom as
we take our buckets
full of ***** bad habits,
abusive fathers, brazen
moms and bare it all
on the table between
sabre's shots in the
laundromat as i fold
every ******* item of
clothing that i own
i begin to dread the
departure and the
growing space that looms
between us so i ****
you in with the promise
of a six pack and vinyls
satiated for only so long
you find my fresh buzz
and the blank lines between
us vanish, hands on my
head and lips on my neck,
i'm holding on tight, but
it's only a matter of time
until reality escapes me
quick trip down the
slopes and i'm over flowing
with what defines me,
our tempos are timed by
the too fast kits that
hammer in sync in our chests
sun's coming up and
luna's got more than just
moons in her eyes, she
sees me and then looks
beyond me into past lives
i'm reminded what it is
to actually feel something
and the passion is exhilerating
and terrifying as my
numbness is washed away,
wave after wave, in
comfortable silence
******* cigarettes and
slipping through
song after song
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 1:19 AM UTC