"unarmoured" poems
I saw the monster in you,
****** at his small claws, nipped
at the silvery whip of his tail. I saw
the monster in you and loved you
despite it, in spite of it, because of
it. Your mouth is weaponry and I
kissed you with a soft tongue
unarmoured. I am not entirely
goodness either, I search
our skin for scales. Let
me in under your bed
and I will show you
darkness as it
curves into
light.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
Some say
That with victory – a continuity is required.
To win, you must, win, and win again
You claim each battle as your own ‘til life
meets its end.
I bask in these triumphs as much as the next
Relish the sick clang as the hilt gripped between my fingers
Wobbles with each and every blow
To an enemy’s weakened defence
As I watch rival fortresses vanish
In the smouldering chimney puff
That follows the blaze of the bomb
just like that.
Boom. Do you see that? Look. It’s gone.
Last moments in castle courtyards
As medals of valour are draped
Round the veins of my neck.
(*Look what I can do. I am powerful.
Or so I thought.*)
No soldier is prepared for this.
The battle of the mind
Sharpened sword is useless
Throw your armour to the floor
No protection can be given
Clouds swell like balloons and blacken the corners
Of your brain
Eating from the edge like parasites
And this, I fight unarmoured.
Unarmed
And petrified.
So no.
I can’t say I agree.
To me
A victory
Does not entail an ounce of continuity.
For myself, any achievement
Is a success
No matter how large
How small
How scattered or random
Or spaced over time
If I can make it through the day
With a smile on my face
Sweet Victory, it’s mine.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC