Best Swordplay Poems
I write of two-edged swords (that tired clichè)
as though this modern boy knew hilt from blade;
as if I had been taught of true swordplay,
not learned from movies Errol Flynn had made.
But plainly put, things work more than one way:
the lake that offers joy can also drown,
the sun that melts the wax can harden clay,
the fire that heats the meal burns houses down.
A hammer is adept at building things,
though hammer's claw might tear the same apart.
The kiss that first gave freedom to love's wings,
when given to another, broke my heart.
Two-edged clichès may give the reader pause -
I know firsthand the damage they can cause.
written 30 Apr 2022
A mountain of some measure aligned slopes,
Silversword's statuesque uncommonness,
bikers and skiers, youth urban slang, 'dopes,'
pics of height's flowering tower upness.
Centuries of swordplay, The Word, acclaimed,
plowshares and the sorts treats its new version.
Purplish flowers are structurally framed,
like a cross handle, silver hairs orphan.
Majestic still today, handle to point,
Jehovah's watchtower, grand edifice
leans to age and weather. Volcano joint
Maui's 'House of the Sun' sole home exists.
Another species bides the intellects,
nature goes on living with the ... neglects.
A bright young fellow named Ernest
Went to med school to be an internist.
But the sight of insides
Gave him really bad vibes,
So he took up accounting in earnest.
A shifty young lawyer named Stan
Came up with a devious plan
To avoid paying taxes
Through complex finances,
But was told that his plan wouldn't stand.
A beginner in fencing named Perry
Was finding that swordplay was scary.
"Not to belabor
But it's defective, my saber!
It thrusts but refuses to parry!"
An anemic young lady named Madeline
Became increasingly maudlin
When she came to discover
That her boyfriend and lover
Would sleep through the day in his coffin.
A lady tourist named Lisa
Fell from the Tower of Pisa.
On the way down
She thought thoughts profound
And remembered to renew her visa.
A deadbeat gambler named Owen
Ran into the guys he was owing
Who, with style and with ease,
Broke both his knees,
After asking him, "Hey, how's it going?"
A big rock-and-roll star was Ben,
But now just a 90's has-been.
The girls and their aunties
Would throw him their panties,
But now no more groupies has Ben.
("What's in a name" contest entry)
“The Legendary Adventure Moments of Doctor Hermione Baggins the Reddish of Winterhold, The Master Sith Rainbow Lord Lulu Pucca, Cloud Kitty Carla Chandra the Ruby Rose, and Rand O'From Equestria the Darken Raw Snow vs The Strange A.A. or Perhaps B.S. Educated Scotties Homer Pilgrim’s Search for More Resources by Destroying the Galaxy to Make Way for a Interstellar Lightspeed Railway or Was It a Fishing Pond?”
Apathetic the game will continue on anyway
“Bidet,” a person points, "first door on the right in the hallway"
Celtic orchestrated melody commences to play
Drastic the GM in a serious voice proceeds to convey
“Exotic treasures will be rewarded at the story's endplay
Frederick and Scotty have threatened to destroy the floodway
Galactic dragons will soon have control of the realms gateway
Heretic man wearing the scarlet hand is on the highway
Icteric smiles seeing the party ‘do you have an issue?’”
“Judgematic paladin, what course of action will you do?”
“Kinesthetic, I'll flash step next to him and use my kung fu”
Laconic, looking over at the monk, “not your turn Lulu”
"Majestic I promenade over and address this mildew"
Novelistic I say, ‘the dragons, and mage, I must melee’”
“Optimistic the NPC rolls a 16 and tries to outplay
Panic soon kicks in as the druid and monk cross the pathway”
Quadraphonic sounds play as the initiative ensues
"Rollick, the monk and I go over, but I just rolled a two”
“Slapstick the heretic encounters the paladin’s swordplay
Tragic it's late and we must stop the story right here today
Unpoetic I know but we'll pick up again next Wednesday"
Updated 5/14/2019
I am a bad, bad, BAD boy
*** and NC-17 qualified,
I frequent the easy streets in leisure zone
and walk with a swagger.
I own my time
I own my dreams
I have my own plans,
I am the center of my domain--
I, Me and Myself,
I don't waste my time
to appease nobody,
I know what I want and
ain't afraid to go for it,
I don't just sit and mope
I got to get up and get going.
I am a bad, bad boy,
I don't suffer fools easily
Nor a politician or a priest,
I'm impatient with small talks
wading through friendly BS.
I am honest and don't beat around
the bush – foreplay is a waste of time,
I go for the main show!
I am cocky and like to tease--
A lighthearted back-and-forth
keeps a relationship passionate and fiery,
I engage in verbal swordplay.
I am a bad, bad boy
I don't want to get caught praying
or coming out of a confession,
Neither would I like to be seen
drinking beer or champagne,
A Jack Daniel's on-the-rock kinda guy,
Hair messy and a slight stubble,
least to smile, chewing a dead cigar,
Twinkle in my eyes, a gold tooth,
adorned all over with pledge-of-love tattoos
I'll stand up for my girl and fight,
For I am a bad, bad, BAD boy
But, a good, good, GOOD man!
~Casarah Nance contest, Prompt 2
Reading by the lines, one by one
Evidenced on those skid marks left
A bitter aftertaste, beyond
goes the winding path right ahead
What led this outrage, travesty?
Swept sanity with tragedy
O’er the hedge up to no man’s land
Places that gets one out of hand
A four letter word defined despair
Others called it an outbreak, plague
yet some being spared by a hair
but most were left alone and vague
It’s been a struggle upon death
like life being bullied in the edge
Such fairytale told in great length
With no other cue when it’ll end
Here goes below downward spiral
Love just dragged you deep underground
When all is lost, the outcome’s final,
a broken heart you had just found
There goes, “Damn you do, damn you don’t,”
a double-bladed tongue swordplay
waiting for a preemptive strike
then suddenly, gave up the fight
Love is Actually - NOT
Love is actually hate’s evil sister
masquerading as the touch of passion’s tryst
harsh flame to make the lover’s psyche blister
lying lips to slyly soothe the forming cyst.
Sipping slowly from nearly empty snifter
savoring the truth on which Love’s lies subsist
fatal swordplay of dueling Cinderella’s
battling the darkness of lust’s empty cellars.
8/5/2017
submitted to – Love is Actually……- Poetry Contest
I bare my authentic heart with each word I say,
Then go numb as you twist them every which way ~ ~ ~
Now the entire world weighs heavy today
And I’m too pierced to find words to pray.
My effort was for kindness to sweetly sway
Over your unfounded anger set on slay.
Now dysfunction’s heartache is on display
And I cannot locate a single, warming sunray.
I am holding tattered emotional dismay.
You must know love seeks no swordplay,
But ever constructs an endless thruway.
Blind ears tossed our blessings to mislay.
Broken and dazed by our rough affray,
I can grab no answer in this inane decay ~ ~ ~
So in silent tears, I put all on God’s stairway.
Sadly, I believe only He can create leeway.
... CayCay Jennings
February 9, 2018
Lightning flashes across the chilly midnight sky.
A warrior rises from the ashes to be a Poetic Samurai.
Metaphorically his blazing Katanna blade is just a mere black pen.
His poetry is like an explosion from a grenade leaving poets in ruin!
He scribbles out names of poets he's slain, and ponders who is next.
The rain beats against the window pane, and he wonders of the last poetess he sexed.
He made passionate love to her mind, and did things no other man had done.
The pen was a sweet taste of sin when he ate her from behind just for fun!
After awhile with a smile he discarded her like a rag doll, and focused solely on her boyfriend.
The Samurai was determined to poetically kill this slime ball after he was done with his girl
for a weekend.
But the boyfriend was jealous and shaking with rage, and he challenged the Poetic Samurai.
Poetry Soup would be the main stage, for it was do-or-die, and this battle begin to intensify.
The Poetic Samurai dominated the poetesses boy toy by placing him in a casket and burying
him alive!
This demonic poetic warrior was determined to destroy, and he wanted no one to survive!
The Samurai battled the poetess and her whole click, spreading terror like the swine flu!
The boyfriend got poetically sick, and the samurai beat their cheerleaders black and blue!
The poetess, her boyfriend and their soup friends were furious, because of the Samurai's
poetic slams.
So the boyfriend got personal and serious, because the samurai ate the boyfriends green
eggs and ham!
The boyfriend could not stomach the samurai's poetic food, so he ran and pulled up the
Samurai's criminal background.
But the Samurai is a poetic warrior and he continued to smash the dude into the ground
leaving his girlfriend spellbound!
It is said the boyfriend is poetically dead, he eventually committed suicide!
The Samurai left a trail of bloodshed across the soup and worldwide.
It is said the poetess ran away, she could not take it anymore.
I guess being sliced and diced by poetic swordplay was hard to ignore!
So the Poetic Samurai begins to retire, but he keeps his pen ready for a challenger.
He patiently waits to wrap another poet in barbed wire and swing the Excaliber!!!
I am a bad boy
*** and NC-17 qualified,
I frequent the easy streets in a leisure zone
and walk with a swagger.
I own my time
I own my dreams
I have my own plans,
I am the center of my domain--
I, Me and Myself,
I waste no time to appease nobody,
I know what I want and
ain't afraid to go for it,
I don't just sit and mope
I got to get up and get going.
I am a bad, bad boy,
I don't suffer fools easily,
neither a politician nor a priest,
I'm impatient with small talks
wading through friendly BS.
I am honest and don't beat around
the bush – foreplay is a waste of time,
I go for the main show.
I am cocky and like to tease--
A lighthearted back-and-forth
keeps a relationship passionate and fiery,
I engage in verbal swordplay.
I am a bad, bad boy,
I don't want to get caught praying
or coming out of a confession,
Neither would I like to be seen
drinking beer or champagne,
A Jack Daniel's on-the-rock kinda guy,
Hair messy and slight stubble,
least to smile, chewing a dead cigar,
twinkle in my eyes, a gold tooth.
Adorned all over with pledge-of-love tattoos
I'll stand up for my girl and fight,
For I am a bad, bad, BAD boy
But, a good, good, GOOD man!
~"Who do you think you are" contest
by Caren Krutsinger
Drogue, Rogue.
Arab beauty.
Special Heir.
Jump up-down.
Slice like an Arab Ninja.
What is the blade?
Sharp point with Arab Brittle.
Separate from the end.
Muller Tick-Tock.
Poison the Tyrant.
Bomb the Oppressors
And, swordplay.
Prison of binding, within lies a story.
An ephemeral tale, both handsome and hoary.
Swordplay like lightning clashes.
Ballet steps, graceful with thunderous lashes.
A monstrous castle with many a hidden room.
Fire breathing dragons with golden scales of doom.
The princess in the tower, with one window and one door,
desires to be rescued so she can even the score.
An evil witch grinds her unkempt nails upon the wall,
wanting all wishes and dreams to tumble and fall.
Sages surround the courageous prince.
Some traitors, some wise attempt to convince,
which way the bars might bend within the pages.
The author’s story always ends after the wicked pays their wages.
1/3/2017
Did you all hear about Elmer Fudd
That Wascally Wabbit drew first blood
Bugs swordplay was as thus
Advance, parry, and thrust
Now Elmer dwells six feet in the mud
You cherish so much!
You need to have your head
Removed!
(11/23/24)