Sword of Mischief Is Ready

Nick's sword of mischief is ready,
The thrusts to be ever steady
For those he is sure are heady,
Now controllable, soon an eddy...

Nick's challengers need steely sword,
Until they accept a Made Lord,
Palm wine has failed with its swell gourd;
No one has ever pleased a horde.

Nick shall reached throats slash with his sword,
Now it's without doubt the Spring Board
For proclaiming himself First Lord
His sword at the back of his Ford...

Too bad for who'd lived in Oxford
And his English Last Name: Clifford.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

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Narain Avatar
June 4, 2023 at 9:45 AM
'Let my nights be a beautiful dream On waters of a never ending stream'- nice rhythm. Great poem.
Narain Avatar
June 4, 2023 at 9:41 AM
Great description of Nick's might. Nice rhythm in poem.
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