Best Broadsword Poems
Locked in her tower our heroine sleeps alone
This beautiful flower has been kidnapped from her throne
She stares at the moonlight then drifts off to sleep
To dream of a brave knight scaling the castles keep.
Her flaxen hair frames her delicate ivory skin
Vivid dreams of her hero reveal her beauty within
Steadfast and strong and ready to fight to the death
To rescue this beauty he will forgo his last breath.
Her chivalrous knight enters the abductors domain
Soon she'll taste the sweetness of freedom again.
His shield raised high and broadsword drawn
With every step he takes, for her hope is reborn
Caught off guard with a blow he is swept of his feet
He fights blindly on until his quest is complete
To vanquish the captors is his goal and last wish
Sweep the princess off her feet with a tender kiss
He slashes the ropes that bind her to the bed
Making passionate love for hours now they are happily wed
19th May 2014
Written By Jan Allison & Darren Watson
~submitted to Dave Wood's Imagination Contest~
Awarded 1st place - am so delighted to have won this with Darren he
is my inspiration
For years the witches have gathered
Practicing their satanic rites of insanity
How many people have they butchered
Secluded, in this forested den of iniquity
Open fields surrounding the plateau
Making it hard to approach undetected
The going will be arduous, and slow
Foolishly believing they are protected
The moon always seems to be full
A shadow my only friend this night
I step over the warning ring of skulls
Easing toward the campfires light
I see four hags have selected a child
They begin branding his pale white skin
Odor of burning flesh, senses defiled
As the boy screams, my legs weaken
Pulling my broadsword free of its sheath
Slipping quietly behind the four witches
Barely feeling the sharp bite of its teeth
A just reward for practicing their fetishes
Standing beside the child I view the brands
The number 666, adorns his petite frame
Could this be the boy spoken of in legends
Born of Jackal's, heir to Satan’s domain
Gazing into his eyes, lost in the darkness
Aware I’ve saved the stealer of souls
I will not be a part of this evil madness
Raising my sword, one more head must roll
The old King took to the battle
and leapt into the fencers fray.
“Noblesse oblige” his cronies cry.
“Our King will save the day!”
He was a bull to their gazelle
nae a fair fight, nae by half;
he'd fight just to see the thralls fall
he ‘d pierce those peacocks for a laugh!
His continence was so fearsome.
His two burly arms a rare threat.
Some would nae fight His Majesty
nor fight of his knightly get.
“How is this fair?” the Lord’s lament.
How well met can these odd match be?
“Unless, of course, ‘twas nae ‘bout fair
this was nae called noblesse oblige!
In heavy plate with blade and pole
with broadsword, He’d bested the field;
so, as the fencers broached this game
the wiser lads all chose to yield.
They would nae raise a blade to him
nor would they save for him a dance;
many a brave man whispered there
and the bolder looked on askance.
“Let Him have the day! We’ll nae play
Noblesse oblige, my fine backsides!”
And, so the fancy fencers fell
like pretty harp seals on the tide.
There are many a way to win
and sure, many a way to loose.
Yet ‘tis the metal of the man
shows in the way that he chooses.
My neighbor is a pirate of fame
Who sailed and pillaged from Maine to Spain
I once heard his old parrot mimic
Phrases common to a pirate’s gimmick.
I saw his long broadsword and musket
Looking quite time-worn, used and rustic.
He has a plumed hat, spy glass, boot scraps,
Black eye patch, peg leg and treasure maps.
My neighbor cannot shiver me spine,
He is way too short and only nine.
37 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’[a] 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[b] 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” NIV.
Two Great Commandments
We must praise God with our total being;
With newfound faith in Him are believing;
Yourself forget;
In neighbors let;
Help those in need who will be grieving.
Jim Horn
St. James Episcopal Church
Shallotte, NC
lord 127 End Rhymes
One-syllable rhymes
board
bored
chord
cord
cored
cured
fiord
fjord
floored
ford
gored
gourd
gourde
hoard
hord
horde
lord
moored
oared
pored
poured
roared
scored
shored
snored
soared
stored
sword
toured
ward
warred
whored
Two-syllable rhymes
abhorred
aboard
accord
adored
afford
award
backboard
baseboard
billboard
blackboard
breadboard
broadsword
buckboard
cardboard
chalkboard
chessboard
chipboard
clipboard
concord
contoured
corkboard
dashboard
deplored
discord
duckboard
explored
floorboard
footboard
freeboard
hardboard
headboard
highboard
ignored
implored
inboard
keyboard
landlord
lapboard
moldboard
outboard
outscored
pasteboard
pegboard
prescored
rancored
record
restored
reward
scoreboard
seaboard
shipboard
sideboard
signboard
skateboard
slumlord
soundboard
springboard
surfboard
switchboard
tagboard
toward
uncured
wallboard
warlord
washboard
whipcord
Three-syllable rhymes
aboveboard
centerboard
checkerboard
clavichord
coinsured
fiberboard
fingerboard
harpsichord
mortarboard
notochord
overboard
overlord
paperboard
pinafored
plasterboard
pompadoured
prerecord
reassured
shuffleboard
smorgasbord
stevedored
underscored
unexplored
unrestored
untoward
weatherboard
Part two (written by Jack Blackman) 0792059
Luth: I turned to gaze into my sibling's evil eyes of spite,
For fate had fallen on this forlorn night
To my delight.
I ceased my merry tune, a somber grin split wide my face,
My fangs gleamed in firelight as I stood framed
by the fireplace.
My amber eyes held his a moment
before I spoke aloud,
"I kneel to no one, I flee from none,
for I am far too proud."
I drew my broadsword and braced the steel
till blood dripped from my hand.
Then, nice and calm, I drank from my palm and said,
"I will kill you where you stand."
My brother then chuckled, hate danced in his eyes,
And he said, "You have no chance but to die!
I will slay you as I slew your flock,
and leave your intestines strewn on the rocks!"
I thought to myself, How vainly he boasts,
but surely he is a damn liar!
For I believed not that he killed my whole flock,
My beloved family of vampires.
"If you do not believe they are dead," he said,
"Then call out to them with the thoughts in your head,
and you will then see what I speak is the truth,
Use your telepathic powers to retrieve your own proof -
I killed your children and your wife, Luth."
My confidence faltered at his bold proclamation,
For my brother's mind worked by a sick fascination,
with a desire to be the last vampire,
He would maliciously murder our own grandsire.
I closed my eyes and sought with my thoughts,
To reach out to my wife's lovely mind.
I fought through the void and called out for her,
and silence was all I could find.
To my great horror, my children neither seemed to be there
or replied.
Full of righteous anger, I opened my eyes,
and tears of blood I cried.
My brother was stronger, but I was much faster,
and faster than thought, I brought his disaster;
By darting across the room at a speed
that left no seam on his neck there to bleed.
He laughed and thought himself unharmed,
but then began to cough -
when a crimson stain spread in a line at his throat,
and then his head fell off!
I stood above his corpse, eyes glowing as if twin campfires,
and in my heart I knew despair,
For I was the last vampire.
This piece was done with help from a friend, Homer(@chrysomer on Instagram), please do check him out. We took turns, alternating with each line. He began, then on and on it went. I’ll be starting his lines with “[H]” and mine with “[P]”, so keep track if you can??
I’m a fan of Brent Weeks’. Some content is tied to ideas used in his Shadow Books: ‘Beyond the Shadows’, ‘Shadow’s Edge’, and ‘The Way of Shadows'(must reads, for all epic fantasy, fiction lovers out there).
Enjoy!
WARRIOR KING’S PLIGHT
[H] Despondent delinquent, I gaze into an abyss
[P] My raging ruler’s spirit, impugning as is
[H] Fiery and blazing, like a dragon’s breath it seethes
[P] Would that winter dawns upon my gazing
[H] But winter frolics and brings with it seasons whitening
[P] And neither snow nor white ash could taint this pitch
[H] The gods had already pissed and ruined its green
[P] Now myrtle and mistletoe, birds never may preen
[H] Not hens, not eagles nor owls may perch
[P] Still I gazed into this abyss, this pitch, watching it stretch
[H] The length of the waste was in miles at best
[P] The breadth of it, the monsters! a roaming nest
[H] Vicious and hungry, they roamed for prey, eyes wandering, they suddenly settled on me
[P] But I expected this, longed for the chaos; Come!
[H] They lunged forward, baring their frightening teeth, some still drooping the flesh of fresh meat
[P] I draw my savage broadsword, cloaked in rage and revenge
[H] Glittering with the black diamonds entrusted to me in Hades
[P] My stance paints an undying picture, and Cerulean steel meets pitch
[H] My blade whistles a singsong of vengeance, eager to spill blood in this battlefield
[P] I am one man
[H] My sword is legion
[P] My will drives my blade, my will overwhelms my reality; when does it end?
[H] It just did, he snapped out of his 3D and sighed heavily
[P] Lol… That was a good one
There was no theme or working structure to this. We just randomly started this in a group on WhatsApp.
Please, don't forget to comment. :)
What’s the Hue of Your Heart?
Does ‘claim’ to be ‘___’ (1) not suggest one’s more Racist?
The Truth’s we’re all mongrels (and born of one mother!),
whatever our ‘Color.’ ‘Eve’ might have been monkey!
Best Science won’t lie (Evolution’s still hazy!)
Is ‘White’ or just ‘Pale’ the more ‘rich’ appellation?
Should language divide us or seek to blend angels?
My wish, ‘more were color blind,’ makes me a Fascist,
attacking divisions means I’m not your brother?
Does love of prosperity make one Death’s lackey
if wealth is preserved in a world that’s not crazy,
and Love blesses all? Is God’s Grace calculation
that serves to control us, Grace lies, thrives on angles?
Does Grace (that Christ died for) suggest you’re deserving?
Lord, color us humble, who struggle with pride that
we’re ‘Whiter,’ more prosperous, charming, and smarter
than thrall of Eve’s children whose blessings look scattered
on ‘day of their birth.’ Who provisions himself, Lord,
from gifts we deserve, gifts Grace dreams we’ll let serve us?
Man’s colors aren’t Race, just supremacist blindness,
that justifies meanness (war’s rape via broadsword),
thanks God for meek slain and frail innocence tattered,
the treasure that’s captured when brotherhood’s martyred.
Race covets a place at Hell’s gate as a doormat
(as Heaven’s more stringent!) Christ does the reserving!
Long Tooth
January 24th in 2021
Poet’s Notes:
(1) Substitute the color of your choice, ‘Red,’ ‘White,’ ‘Blue,’
etc., and you’ve made my poem worth my effort!
(2) In these post-Trump days of such blatant racism, it might be
easy for some to bemoan even our “White House” as one more
racist symbol from our shameful past that we still have not dealt
with thoroughly! This is evidenced by our ongoing suppression
of Black Voters in America and attacks on our Constitution!
I thank God that most racists are too uneducated to know that
white and black are not even real colors but the reflection (or
non-reflection) of all visible light.
Curse you, curse you forgiving and patient heart
you would receive a thousand papercuts
before admitting a person's fault
I don't know why
Why are you so dead-set on letting me embrace, witness
the brutally honest elegantness dwelling inside...her, Anastasia
Why do you keep her tangled within
intermingling hues of my personality
Why can't you aid in my campaign to let her go
(sigh) I forfeit, I just want to let her go
let her go and recover, forget this dreadful haze
...I love her...no, we've been through this before
It just couldn't be, just leave me to believe in the folly
I realize I was willing to fight for her but I'd fight for anyone
I just didn't expect her to leave
I guess someone had to if I wouldn't
Yes, I was willing to fight but my prize
a thousand reasons to wave the white flag of surrender
I've seen all of this before but I swallow the pain down every time
like people in the circus swallow swords
It's written down in ancient history
I was taken down by the knife which killed me
In the face of truth, I denied fate to forge my own broadsword
which took off the head of the wielder (sigh) me
I kept our union alive long enough for her to stab me
and return to her king, her petty reasons I'll never grasp
but I despise them both for implanting this time bomb inside me
or was it really the seed of jealousy sprouting dangerously
I lied, claimed the feeling comfortable
while simultaneously because the spawn of the demon of anger
relatively close to the fate of Nero, part of the bloodline of Rome
To all these demanding questions, I don't know is your fatal answer
Curse you heart, why do you find joy in aiding the enemy
in slowly worming it's way back into me
I honestly thought, believed I banished her...
although I kept the door open in hopes of her return...
but she only came in to steal you again
On her way out, a punch she threw my way
and I stood there, a statue, still in sheer defiance
taking the force
and I stood still in a quiet storm
between enraged and hopeless
The tears raining down from the thunderstorm of my eyes
made me aware; I'm still me somewhere below the surface
...so why do I sit here in silence...
...feeling like I'm nothing...nothing...
...nothing at...all...
Sinking into me
This silver broadsword
Pull it from my chest
Sheathe it in your gold
Transmuted from my ash
Collected from our final clash
Lying atop a branch
Atop the mighty tree
Born from my death
Reach down, angel
Pull me from the dirt
I can't see the world
Underneath your light
The glare is far too strong
I've stared for too long
The world is born again
You've learned to fly again
I'm buried once again
Oh death your sting will plea
rejoice cancerous vile flesh.
And scab bandages the angel's plea.
of bliss to rest from arrogant men.
Mode I do abhor the card
casting of my flesh moray.
Lipstick stains and gill vanguard
tears swift by tram alleyway.
My memories the broadsword
thing left to hold me to thane.
Womb called life resale abhorred
permeability train.
Headed in the quest of
finality.
In my secret heart I’ve felt
Like a blood-crazed Celt,
Scottish, Irish, either one,
Killing Britons with my gun.
Or with broadsword or with knife,
Dirk, or dagger, taking life
In an Ulster alleyway,
Or Culloden Moor that day.
Smoke and blood on heather grass,
Celtic reverie must pass,
Like a distant, dimming dream
Drowning in a dank, swift stream.
The Oil Soft Yoke
Alas, the contest sponsors do expound
on how to sail your craft, and where it’s bound
thus must the muse-less vessels get in line
wander straight and never serpentine
for hearts are frail and distant widows peak
still hear cold vagrant cries of those who seek
a passage to a new world without rules
to build their frameless houses without tools.
And yet we stand in awe at castle gates
to view the masterpieces of the greats
ignore the splintered floors that bow and creak
believe the feather strong, the broadsword weak.
Embrace the furrowed rows, the oil soft yoke
for poetry when written ain’t no joke..
©12/24/2019
STRAND SPECIAL 8
In the same domain as I released several days ago
A magpie with foot caught in wooden mouse trap
Aves my baby is a Saviour, her soul beauty a show
Freedom breadth materialised in blessed moment
Limping gives way to delivery, staid cage collapsed
River snake jaw compels ocean, propels hope that
Latitude comes upon compiled memory's sure flow
Broadsword my boy taught firm ethics keeps pride
Strength activated matures to be a bold protector
Man of moral multitude, by vital sacrifices inspired
A A B expands her brain, guards precious treasure
Chaste of spirit assists needy, heart always in tact
17th December
- descendent -
Like a broadsword through my empty chest,
Your words hurt, though said in jest.
I returned your anger with only laughter,
Your words hurt, you cared not after.
My soul I spilled but you didn’t care,
Your words hurt, my walls stripped bare.
My heart I was ready to give,
Your words hurt, too much to live.