Best Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword Poems
The candle burns down long into the night
Its life waning in a flickering flame
As I etch these ink stains of black on white
On pages that will never be the same
For I will fill this empty space with gold
Treasures - my soul now feels the need to share
Before the embers in this fire grow cold
I give to you these precious gems so rare
And when this candle dies and darkness falls
My pen will finally rest without regret
Left with the knowledge that I gave it all
My life in words until my dying breath
And in death I will live forevermore
For the pen is mightier than the sword
~~~~~
Written: April 15, 2011
Elaine Cecelia Geroge, of Canada
The Famous quotation 'The pen is mightier than the sword' was written by:
Edward Buliver-Lytton in 1839. Those words still live on today, proving that the pen truly is, mightier than the sword.
First place: Brian Strand's 14 line contest
First place: Razzle Dazzle Contest sponsored by Linda-Marie
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush
But man is slaved to fate,
No fun or spontaneity
Unless you speculate
You can’t keep a good man down
The candle’s sturdy wick,
Yet alcohol and ageing
Seems to do the trick.
Let he who is without sin
The first stone seek to cast
Attack is the best defence,
May as well be first as last.
Life is like a box of chocolates,
Yet as we grow old and greyer,
The top ones are all gone,
And the best from the bottom layer.
A woman is like a fine wine
With time she will mature,
But men by nature love to taste
A vintage that is newer.
The pen is mightier than the sword
Or so it has been writ,
Unless you’re in a sword fight
And then you’re in deep ….
You could give a look to slay
those that choose to disobey.
You could choose sticks and stones
and warn your enemy with crossbones.
You could trick, trip and roll your eyes,
bid the traitor to a duel, say your goodbyes.
Still, when you are not in one accord -
The pen is mightier than the sword.
It draws a line in the sand, with ink,
into the mire of words your enemy will sink,
and not alone, but with his or her treasury of friends
as they view themselves through your vocabulary lens.
Like a volcano, earthquake or cyclonic spout
your nemesis can’t help but hear your shout.
3/22/2023
Author's Note:
Linda-Marie once conveyed to me, that this poem conveyed the
exact feelings and sentiments on how she felt about writing.
When reading this poem, please allow your mind to hear
her reciting it to you.
She was a bautiful spirit and a very talented writer.
I will miss her dearly.
_____________________________________________________________
The candle burns down long into the night
Its life waning in a flickering flame
As I etch these ink stains of black on white
On pages that will never be the same
For I will fill this empty space with gold
Treasures - my soul now feels the need to share
Before the embers in this fire grow cold
I give to you these precious gems so rare
And when this candle dies and darkness falls
My pen will finally rest without regret
Left with the knowledge that I gave it all
My life in words until my dying breath
And in death I will live forevermore
For the pen is mightier than the sword
~~~~~
The Famous quotation 'The pen is mightier than the sword' was written by:
Edward Buliver-Lytton in 1839. Those words still live on today, proving that the pen truly is, mightier than the sword.
Dear son,
I am told I should tell you things not in books
It is hard for me to begin
Your mother said only what is in the book I know
I think my dilemma is neither you nor I
But the whole purpose of the book
This letter may turn into if I try to understand me.
And if I am not in the picture
Then your existence becomes questionable. We must
Establish our need for more than mere presence
And this makes us listening to each other significant,
Make this letter existentially important
And you significantly more important than either of us think
I do not read books because I believe all books
Books took a wrong turn just by their necessity to speak
And to make speech more permanent than memory
They disrupted a whole tradition of history to write
What we were, and are becoming
By making picture out of words for reflection
As they tell us who we are
Without beat of tongue, and rhythm of gesticulation
That surrounded the melody of oral communication.
The literary man made an ulterior civilization
Telling us with barbed cynicism: the pen is mightier than the sword
I handled all books carefully like a weapon
For in them are seeds of destruction
Not intended alone for our history
But for the civilization of our identity.
My dear son
Every structure and fiber of our imagination
Is no longer about us
For we have been reduced to incongruous metaphors
Supplanting faith in history
Supplanting us with toxic ideas of utopia
Knowing full well for this dream
There is no remembrance after sleep
For waking is an hypnosis for those in too deep.
Even as I proclaim this preamble on clutches.
To love someone,
Then, to suddenly hate
Dig own dungeons
Then why blame the fate?
When ‘pen is mightier, than the sword’
Then why do actions, speak louder than words?
Finding answers to unasked questions
Laughing at others
While we fail to understand our own perceptions
Why to ‘Forgive and Forget’
When something makes us cry and upset
‘Silence is Golden’, are words of the weak
When left unheard
Even the dumb shout at the peak
Why ‘better late than never’
Moment lost , can it be earned again ever?
Moments we try to forget
Engrave themselves in our mind
Small things we try to remember
Slip away like sands of time
‘Immortal’ time, away it flies
But every Bird, one day dies
To have all, yet to want more
Even the tides calm down & merge in ground
Once they hit the shore
Why ‘little learning is dangerous’
Was everyone born perfect & gracious?
‘An eye for an eye’ says the revengeful mind,
But then one day,
Won’t the whole world be blind?
Why am 'I' a no one?
Until I stand up
& prove ‘ME’ over someone
We fall again and again
To be learned & wise
But with Bruises and the pain
Isn’t it tough to rise?
Past is said to be ‘gone’
Then why history repeats itself
Future is yet to ‘born’
Then why do we tense ourselves?
If we can do anything
Why can’t we conquer everything?
I guess you pondered over some things
Things you ignored as ‘A Few Nothings’!!!
It has been said “that the pen is mightier than the sword”. If this be true then I hereby proclaim an end to the savagery of war throughout the world and that all weapons of mass destruction be silenced from this day forward. However, if the saying is but a metonymy and my words are but dust in the wind I would call upon all those who write throughout this world to put pen to paper and create a dust storm of such magnitude that it blinds those that would bear arms of death and destruction for use against their fellow man.
To banish my violent games
Is to banish your writing pens
I may fantasize in gunfire flames
As you've written of now and then's
I have killed a billion bytes and bits
You have made a billion many bored
But the bytes and bits are not life lists
And the pen is mightier than the sword
Actual time of occurrence is killed
Not the people of angry games or rhyme
Complete devastation when drinks are spilled
Satisfaction from both fulfilling time
Unlikeness of a poem I'll leave it be
Unlikeness of a game you leave it be
(I'm not sure if this is a true sonnet poem, I am not a poet, I just started getting into poetry (reading mostly)so I can enhance my ability to write lyrics to my music ... feel free to critique,this is my 1st poem I have ever attempted to write properly.. (Im gonna need all the help I can get ! )
I tell u what shell b the first to tell you
Tim is crazy he aint even jealous of the devil
he gots propellas on the metal
Rest aside those doubts about me
weapons of destruction I don;t even trust in
Whitesqualls Rise up & swallow yall
Im taking chances riskzs and consequences
and im calling that,,, sacrificed chrome polished brass
and im calling chris competition demolished
Im on a baja in a Hallor
Working hard for the heart of her daughter
Sheep for the slaughter dont even bother me
Yes im a legend your just thinking like a protégé
Well geuss what ? my son is my predecessor
I say " Que paso Senior to her step farther"
And me & her brother did a little dirt together
Yes i was like a pirate that burried Treasure
Then i came back as a Survivor On a Glider like Mcgivor
I'll take you to the cliff if u think ur stiffer
I sniffed her then she pist on my terrietory
Your a Teratorous Im the Astroid headed for u
Im a Hailey Im a ****ing comet
You’re like the Red Foe I’ll put cleats on and crush you
Well Im despondant when you stutter when you comment
Eminem dont u ****in call me
Theres a slim chance that u could ever understand a standard
Well u antsy u better go read the ****in manual
Or what about the instructions, chrome never made me stronger
And you think u lucky go ahead and trust it
Gods the only thing i ever trusted in
as i slide in the night in a maroon mustang
i shine like emeralds dipped in crushed diamonds
I had her heart the whol;e time good luck in try in to find it
shes ****in mad cuz i play and splash in the light years
well Im not sorry for GOD being my Guidence
Smaller stars dye for the brighter star Rising
We are Warriors your women in the village crying
AS we stole your pony
Feel the power of a Stallion chasing the scent of heat in a Filley
Hoofprints pounding in the earth and you mistake them for the sound of thunder
Im picking a fight Im talking calling you out to box me
With no weapons in my hand I fight face to face like a man does
Your English Bulldog Im American Pit, I’m like George Washington and Congress
When they signed The Decloration of Independence, The pen is mightier than the sword
It took the pen to entice yall, yall brought ships and thaught yall was goin faught us
Im like my Fore Fathers I still piss on the title of you ****in LandLords
Unquotable quotes – XIII
Follow love for it’s free, free love and it’ll flee.
Do unto others as you would have them undress you.
Easy come, eenie meenie mini go.
Practice makes sex a maniac.
God helps those who help ten elves.
Never kiss a gift horse in the mouth.
People who live in glass houses should not throw boomerangs.
Two heads are no better than none.
Actions speak louder than burps.
A watched pot suffers from boils.
You can’t make a cutlet without breaking legs.
Hang on the hand that feeds you.
All good things must come to a fiend.
If you can’t beat ‘em, grind ‘em.
If it ain’t broke, don’t make it work.
Dislocation is the greater part of valour.
There’s no place like eohm.
A picture is worth a thousand broads.
Better late than dump her.
The pen is mightier than the sword for those who’re
illiterate.
One man’s trash is another man’s pleasure.
Beauty is in the dye of the painter.
Myopia is the mother of the optician.
Familiarity breeds when people camp unkempt.
Good things come to those who know how to put on weight.
A drain is only as long as the longest drink.
Absence makes the heart go ablunder.
You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him blink.
In teaching others we teach ourselves to teach others.
If you want something done Right, don’t look to the Left.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
I am told; one day I will become a woman
I need to prepare for when that day will come
When someone will take my hand and care for me
Having a family of my own, in charge of running a home
I have other views of the woman I want to be
My preparations for my future I will take on my own
Women are not allowed to take the man’s role
But I will challenge the role of a man and will take no crumbs
I refuse to be the symbolic weak woman
Expected to fulfill three roles:
“Mother, housekeeper, and worker”
With few choices, no rights, and controlled by a man
Goals I will break with an education and a respected job
Remaining a single woman!
I will challenge anyone in the community
Who come to ridiculed, shun, and pitied me
The pen is mightier than the sword
And therefore I will gain freedom
With an education and a respected job
My preparations for my future, I will take on my own
1/8/2016
It's the gift of song within the heart,
The gift of words that help us impart,
A deep seated feeling within the soul,
That helps us express it, makes us feel whole.
When we are enabled to reach out in verse,
And touch someone else and mayhap coerce,
The bard in another to make itself known,
And touch us in turn and sing us his song;
A poet's heart sings, it flys and it soars,
When we're given words that touch someone's core.
It's a gift like no other to be able to write,
For there's power in words, they have meat, they have might.
We often dont' know how it will turn out.
We just start to write and then it comes about.
It's hard to say when it will begin,
But there's magic at work when we pick up our pen.
"THE PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD."
You are blameless to not swim,
Where water is ingenuously cool,
Too cool for fish to frolic,
Whoever heard of a Procrustean waterbed?
I am taking swimming lessons at the J.C.C.,
From Pasternak and Yevtushenko.
Cool water with cool air generates no breeze,
Calm as a dish.
The pen is mightier than the sword,
And even works as a good oar,
When there is no wind,
And sails luff.
© Chaim Wilson
"The pen is mightier than the sword"
- In general, I guess that's true
But mine's a lazy blighter;
It treats sloth as a bloody virtue
It's not the liveliest of beasts
It's always at a halt
It likes staring at blank paper
As though that's the thing at fault
It lives a charmed sedentary life
Full speed is torpidly inert
It charges around at the pace of a slug
When flat out and alert
My pen possesses zero 'nift' -
I can't fault it for being too nifty
Its' sweet repose is a full-on doze
It thinks saving ink is thrifty
It's scintillatingly steady
So passively at peace
Unchanging in its' inactivity
Like a grazing wildebeest
So languid and so supine
As it munches on my thought
Remaining ever restful
Seeing hibernation as a sport
It's frustratingly calm and fixed
To the point of being plain dull
And that's when it's being lively
It's worse still, when in a lull
But now and then I drag it
Out of its' latent, dormant air
Force it to get some exercise
And treat my thoughts with care
Often it’s quite useless
It's rare for the spark to light -
But when thought and pen work as one
Well, that's the time I write
I come home from school, angry at the world, as usual
People don't talk to me or show respect but I shouldn't care
I ask my father why because he is all I have
"They're jealous that you're better than them"
"You're insane" I say because, well, why else
People can't possibly think I'm better than them
They don't notice me, they don't talk to me,
Maybe some try but I don't see a potential friendship
I should be used to this, shouldn't I
No one talking to me, never being noticed
I shouldn't care, some kids are just weird
"They're jealous that you're more mature"
"That's not true" I say because, well, why else
I can get silly, I have a strong inner child
I can be very, very immature when I'm with my few friends
You have too much hope in me, father
Maybe I put myself down too much, I don't truly know
I mean I have skills, possibly talents
But I can never accept the compliments
"They're jealous you're not afraid to show your talents"
I'm not the bravest person ever but I don't mind showing off
Give me a mic and I will sing to my heart's desire
Play some music and I will dance until my lungs give out
Give me a pen and paper and I will show you the pen is mightier than the sword
So Papi, give me some time and I might believe you
You are slowly giving me confidence, the self-esteem I need
It will not happen overnight, I still think I'm nothing extraordinary
But I may one day believe in the unrealistic jealousy you believe in