J. I. Thomas F. Poet Quatrain

Abandoned Blade

A shining length of steel
Though tis faded by the years
Cast aside in a rocky vale 
Corroded by cruel Nature’s tears

How noble was the weapon
When carried in his hand
It claimed the life of countless foes
When he chose to make his stand

But on some thrice-cursed evening
When he won again the day
The man mourned of endless struggle
and put his sword away

Content to placate the darkling beasts
Grown within his very heart
He let them roam and multiply
And tried to live his life apart

Then they intruded further
Yet he would not resist
As they sapped his strength by twilight
And he stumbled far into the mist

The apostle said that faith’s our shield
The spirit our true sword
That’s why his eyes are gray and dead
Like the things he once abhorred 


29 August 2019

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Gershon Wolf September 12, 2019 at 9:35 PM Universal theme here, presented with more than a touch of class. Can't figure why there aren't other comments on this profound write. Oh, well. Go explain people's tastes! Write on, please. Ciao, Gershon J. I. Thomas F. September 13, 2019 at 10:20 PM Many thanks; i feel like this poem had a solid inspiration but clunky execution. Perhaps that's why only a "touch" of class :)