Notes About The Poem
2/26/2026 for Broken Heart Poetry Contest sponsored by Seth Pina
The Youth, the Lady, or the Sword?
Years ago, a drowsing youth
sensed there was a greater truth.
His heart would rise up to wake
when he spied the lady of the lake.
He'd always dwelled in the dark
but thought, "She must be the spark"
to bring me out into the light,
and change my life to one so bright.
Enchanted by her golden hair,
he left his world. He didn't care.
Radiating the moonlight's gleam,
she embodied his waking dream.
At the shore, where lake meets land,
he offered her an ardent hand.
Instead, she gave him a sword,
and descended without a word.
Would this sword, not love that's true,
be the pride of blood that's blue -
or would it find the blood that's red,
and whose, I wonder, would it shed?
For the child, the pain was too great,
He clasped the handle, drove it straight
into his pulsing, throbbing heart,
a self-inflicted fatal dart.
This black Excalibur, withdrawn
from a body whose soul was gone,
took its color from the dead heart
of one ill-fated from the start.
The only question I can't shake -
was it the lady of the lake,
the sword, or was it the youth
himself, the murderer, in truth?
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