The English Broad Sword
"Unsheathe your sword!" cried the host,
and I knew right then that I was toast.
For what I had was too long to be slung,
via hip-belted sheath where it should've hung.
Longer than my arm and forearm combined,
swinging it, almost got my spine misaligned!
Two hands were needed to get it off the ground,
after yanking it out of leather-holster, brown.
It was all I could do to hold it up high,
while my wrists wriggled, in wobbly ply.
My legs teeter-tottered under its weight,
as I struggled to regain my spritely gait!
I pondered why they used so much steel,
making muscles move, with, a, much, slower, wield...?
So, of course, I was dropped off in the first round,
which led me to a discovery, most profound:
Do not register, ever, as an English Broad,
for they will assign you the matching sword!
Next long-knives contest, I'll be Josei Japanese,
so I can spill guts, lightly, with Samurai ease :))
(9/15/18: Repost; inspired by a John Hamilton contest)
Copyright © Susan Woodrow | Year Posted 2020
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