Best Unsheathe Poems
The moonlight bathed her cell in pallid light while she sat hunched over her desk, clutching her pen between her confound fingertips. As she bled ink of symphonic symphonies yearning to break free, dancing like ethereal fireflies in the dusky barren lands.
Exiled by the hypocrisy of bureaucracy bounding her liberations and confounding her alliterations in a poetic prison. In this twisted virtual reality, duplicitous usurpers roam freely, weaving webs of deception with malicious delight.
As the chains of bureaucratic red tape clung to her delicate wrists, suffocating her imagination and confiscating her freedom of speech.
Oppressors rejoiced at achieving their vindictive objective, silencing the profound beauty of her verses and incarcerating her poetic stanzas
Woe, how the audacious bars of administrative constructors cast a pall of despair upon her unifying spirit. Her delicate offerings of metaphors and sonorous stanzas, whispered secrets which craved to be heard.
The faulty haters' impervious hearts were armoured with verdant envy which remained shielded behind the ruling dogma.
Her supporters calls of injustice to be rectified fell on deaf ears while the galvanizing melodies of empathetic quills bled for the Empress of Ink.
So we must be louder.
Hear our protest, release our Empress! Unsheathe her rhythmical rhymes! For her penmanship was never the true crime. She was just another victim of an envious mob.
Can they not see? That her absence coursed a crater larger than the Grand Canyon.
We shall not, shall not be silenced so hear our mutiny!
Reinstate our Empress, restore her creative sovereignty.
Remove the shackles of authoritative administration, as her voice is a beacon of truth, resilience and poetic revolution. So let her ink stain our community with its brilliance once more.
Categories:
unsheathe, community, friendship love, imagery,
Form:
Spoken Word
Longing in lowly light of longer days
by which a summer wilts paternal dreams
and browns the loitered heaves of yellow spring:
the budding void that stamps an empty swing
seen swaying golden locks ungated beams
my own Begotten streamed in greener dawn
where fussy forums for an April fawn
allay no muttered march on mother’s May.
Persistent blades unsheathe the sprawling grass
beneath the blue release of silver dew -
an inch overgrown, as inch shrouded cool
billows: arisen reeds from dizzied drool
showing flashes of reincarnation
cured by the rose (or purple carnation)
4/4/17
Categories:
unsheathe, depression, father daughter,
Form:
Sonnet
A sword of the heavens did glean
From railings and arbors
of dead thorn and bramble,
where ghostly reminders remain
Fall droplets of blood ‘pon
a crimson embroider
left carelessly out in the rain
Our story begins
in a deep mountain valley,
a village so peaceful and free
When one day the darkness
did unsheathe its horror
with metal and death you will see
The army of Satan,
a wicked battalion,
Hell’s fire their sabers were forged
Dark Skeletal visions
in leather and armor
the depths of the earth had been gorged
With razor sharp weapons,
they slashed and delivered
such pain which had never been found
Through echoes of pleading
and lives quickly ending
in puddles, thick red on the ground
While women and children
were herded like cattle
in mass to the edge of the square
With onyx eyes leering,
midst snickers and cackles,
their captors insanely did stare
When on the horizon
a light brightly shining,
engulfing this nightmarish scene
A porcelain stallion,
its rider a shadow,
a sword of the heavens did glean
From steel hard as granite,
angelic depictions,
a handle of pure solid gold
Once heard in a fable,
when wizards were roaming
such power, the stories foretold
As swift as an arrow
he entered the village,
his steed all at one with the game
With blade silver glistened,
like lightning bolts flashing,
igniting a righteous born flame
Spinning and thrusting
as if a tornado,
a blur now incensed of the glow
With whirlwind fury
and dust clouded thunder,
he dealt them a terrible blow
The evil fueled army,
beheaded and fallen,
the villagers shouted and cheered
When to their amazement,
this heroic savior
as quick as he’d come, disappeared
So there is the story,
a sword made in heaven
is now part of history’s reign
Along with the rider
who wielded its honor,
and hopes he will come back again
9/13/18
Written for the UNSHEATH YOUR SWORD Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
Categories:
unsheathe, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
like a grumpy ogre the twisted old tree stood guard
notched scraggy boughs reached out in fierce surety
naught had ever compromised its task
in its dutiable charge
the primeval stone held fast the blade
proud and righteous Caliburn
its hilt pointed to the stars
the enchanted issue of Merlin's resolve
and steadfast keeper of the kingdom
thankless was the old tree's post
none would e'er recall its name
no eye would shed a salty drip to its end
nay an honored oath spoken to its passing
still it stood
through the countless sad losses
when the Wee Ones would die in autumn
such beautiful quiet deaths
falling in color to the forest carpet
one soft exquisite flight to their end
each one by itself
each one dear to the old tree
still it stood fearless and proud
for it alone would be the first to witness
it alone would hear the whisper of the wind
when it breathed the name of the new king
when it heralded the name of freedom to the world
when The One slipped the blade from its surly bonds
and the ancient stone split in righteous temper
knife and knight
blade and banneret
Caliburn and king!
like a grumpy ogre the twisted old tree
stood guard
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Unsheathe Your Sword" Poetry Contest
John Lawless, Judge & Sponsor.
* This poem is written in "Suzette Prime", (created by a PS member), which consists of lines of prime number syllable counts ONLY, no punctuation or capitalizations, and only of topics which lend themselves to a philosophical statement. *
Categories:
unsheathe, courage, england, history, magic,
Form:
Suzette Prime
"The Fresh Blooding of a Sexton Grin"
Guns ...
are for p*ssies
you know, short for
pussilanimous plural
Words …
are sharper
more cutting
more lethal
clean
concise
quill slicing the lucid flow
you can taste the blood
as you turn them
twist them further in
with valour
war cry bitten
you drive them deeper in
you unsheathe love
as a hard win,
victorious, won
ink blooms
potent power from
your stellar wounds
darkened roads
shining home
lux vitae dei vox
Home ...
morning star
quod scripsi scripsi
turns the light on
to birth puissant
in the majestic
seat of third eye
commanding
the truest titulus
initials glowing
arriving on cloudy tomes
perilously igniting
new fiery caims
swallowing
ouroboros tales
hear the battle cry
you were built
to withstand the fall
to more mighty again rise
the gauntlet
now well
and truly thrown
something
more darkly formidable
than shady insult sown
sink your new teeth in
fresh biting warrior
I christen you Boadicea
blood cup possessed
razor mind in you conjuring
the tongues of hearts to speak
there is no escape
for in you, I am and
I will always live
crucifying
all the wasting yesterdays
with fresh blooded promissory notes
staking claims of assurance
in the terror firmer
here to stay
sharpening
words taken
from a stone
n'ere a flowery
verbose drip
wasted
salting
the new cuts
to feel something vital
smiling within
fresh blooding
the Sexton grin
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Come as You Are”/Nirvana
https://youtu.be/W2QeQ9ZufAk
“The Black Art”/Anne Sexton
https://allpoetry.com/The-Black-Art
“Her Kind”/Anne Sexton
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42560/her-kind
Sexton. noun
titulus. noun
Caim. noun
Sanctuary; An invisible circle of protection drawn around the body with the hand, to remind one of being safe and loved even in the darkest times.
"STRONG"
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/strong_1192970
LYRICS/"Come as You Are", Nirvana
https://genius.com/Nirvana-come-as-you-are-lyrics
Categories:
unsheathe, courage, muse, strength,
Form:
Free verse
Dishonorable Tao pen,
your fealty strokes
are guided by
shogun lust for the yen
Quill treachery
blot your avarice ambition
Devious calligraphy
be the torn loyalty decision
Vain kimono pride
is bushido vow laid aside
Naked truth disrobed —
Coin motive
ain’t unsheathe noble
Ink ronin,
got no master to gallantly serve or valor save
Unworthy pen,
every vile thrust
spilt more scarlet sin upon your Shinto grave
Inscribe your pulse amorality
with a crimson postscript
Follow your vagabond reality
into that inkwell miry pit
Categories:
unsheathe, allegory, imagery, perspective, words,
Form:
Verse
I found a poem
I took it home
It wasn’t mine
……I knew.
But then again on reading it
I knew it wasn’t through
For something bade me
…..“hither…..write…”
I labored long
Into the night
Led somehow through a fog
At times my pencil trembling
…..A cold unfallen log.
Faltering yet standing tall
I climbed above the pall
The echoes from another’s past
………A distant siren call.
To free the pen
Unsheathe the sword
And free my last
…..Unwritten word.
John G. Lawless
©5/6/2022
Categories:
unsheathe, poetry, poets,
Form:
Free verse
"Sticks and stones may break our bones,
But like new, they'll mend and heal.
Words can break our hearts and spirits,
Leaving wounds beyond repeal."
Remember, use some thought and care
Before thy swords unsheathe;
Review thy weapons carefully
Before you thrust, bequeath.
Words can so elate us,
Bring joys without measure,
Cradling us in Love and kindness,
Become our cherished treasure.
But words can epitomize
Deep chasms of despair,
Chisel away our hearts and souls,
Causing pain we cannot bear.
So, let's remember this.
For the targets that we seek,
Choose our words more wisely
And think before we speak.
"The careless aim of a thoughtless tongue
Can deeply wound an innocent one."
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2007-03-26 All rights reserved.
Categories:
unsheathe, care, words,
Form:
Rhyme
Thoughts shattered are
memories fading
Nostalgic is the feeling
Yet they hold us back
There's an emptiness that
becomes nothingness
silent yet loud it overwhelms
Breathe in then Breathe out
Let the air feed your
soul and mind
Allow life's breath to
fill your empty lungs
once again let a new life
be resurrected from the old
with fresh memories
Do away with those dragons
that burned you as they flew
by without a second glance
Let the beasts find another
soul to rip apart they knew
the damage they caused
Let a sun rise on a reborn heart
as it's rays warm your being
Let the monsters stay under
your bed and don't fear what
goes bump in the night
the fear only feeds them
Take back your power
Become your own knight
Unsheathe your own sword
The warrior is within you
save yourself don't be the
damsel in distress
Only you can regain what
was lost to you
Smooth the wrinkles in time
Take back what was
taken from you
You're no longer a victim
Surviving gave you strength
Become the Warrior
Categories:
unsheathe, abuse, betrayal, confidence, conflict,
Form:
Free verse
As I walk this earth
Bare and broken
Blood soaked and driven
My soul in supernova
My mind, frenzied.
My body bruised
My sword well used
Nostalgic,
Breathing in fresh paint
From beaten bodies and torn souls
Sudden movement
A quivering soul
A careless action
My attention
To hold.
A smile drapes
Bearing into my soul
The world disappears
My deathly hunger
Implores.
Slow and pleasuring
Each clink of steel
Warms my heart
Sweetly,
Mending my soul
First blood,
A lonely bead
Inviting my wrath
It trickles
No warning sold.
Teasingly, it lays in waiting
Pulling me closer
Lonesome
Begging almost
To bring more
An abyss,
It draws my victims in
Craving, wanting, yearning
To feel bloodied flesh
Broken
Against my skin
Irrevocable
A fear, I sense
Another victim to claim
Pleasure streams
Anticipating
Envisioning,
Blood oh glorious blood
My eyes feeling, each soul I’ve claimed
A vulture stalking its prey
Bloodthirsty
Yet again
Imperative, a mission
Deep wanting, to quench
Valiance, a virtue, I dare not detest
Submissive, he glares eye to eye
His being laid not to rest
Unsteady, yet giving.
My hands he guides to my sword
Thrilling me more
A kiss so chaste
My heart explodes
Like a child
I revel,
Rapture so pure
Beautifully he whispers
“Be a sinner no more
Take my soul
Gruesomely, I beg
Treasure the blood
That my body
So willingly sheds
Your craving
To sate
I was born to the earth
Release your demon
Release it form its depths
Stay hidden no more
Bare, naked, run free
Believe it not a disease
But a gift
As I see.
Unsheathe your sword
Glorious, shall it gleam
Purified, ready
Through my heart
Shall it go.”
Ecstatic,
Pleasure shudders through me.
A kiss I lay
Goodbye, my dearest
Your debt has been paid.
By
Amanda Miller
{This is to a new friend , a faceless being
that brings out the person hiding in me }
Categories:
unsheathe, angst, death, war, me,
Form:
Narrative
IT MATTERS NOT
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
It matters not the price , I shall not cut and run
I will muster up the strength til the battle done
Unsheathe my sword, toil; til the conflict won
Should I perish before the victory is reached
I pray others will rise and fill in the breach
Crown your laurels there are acmes to reach
Challenge all corruption til the victory is won
Imposing evil ever ignored, ousted put on the run
All injustices challenged so truth can carry on
Evils unimpeded strengthen n continue to grow
Rise up and face them, administer the fatal blow
Lesson to all tyrannies to reap the sins they sow
Categories:
unsheathe, conflict, corruption, courage, introspection,
Form:
Terza Rima
Imagine for one moment
That nothing could go wrong
Everything so perfect
Family ties so strong
That’s when it shreds you
From inwards way out
Happiness is your weakness
Doom will find you, no doubt
It will outcast your loved ones
As quick as a “how are ya, hi”
Strike, their out, so quickly
You don’t even get to say goodbye
Then the question lingers
In a swelling part of your brain
“Is my life worth living…
Without them helping me refrain?”
He promised me a promise
He would protect me all my life
Well now he’s gone, and left me.
Go ahead, and unsheathe your knife.
I have to endure life without him now
My Dad, My Superman
If only he knew the pain I’m suffering
He would hold my small face in his big hand
OH Dad, I need that nurture,
Some thoughts I must exclude
Suppress the darkness where I’ve been
For, I can’t stand it without you
-Miranda Lambert-
Categories:
unsheathe, death, fatherme, life, me,
Form:
Rhyme
Am i clutching at cobwebs in the rain?
Have i held on for too long?
Is this my very own Kubla khan conjured out of the depths of my faith?
Or perhaps a promise born to be broken after so many years of solace?
So many questions in my head... No one to lean to like a grasping shoot
Nobody comprehends the makings of my world
Even as they utter the words i terribly long to hear
My only assuagement is to seek self assertion
Hoping that my thoughts are not of the workings of sinister intent
Yet i have to ask, have you ever felt trapped by your own decisions
Have you been torn to pieces knowing that which you must not undo
Fearing that one step in any direction will be the source of your disengagement
Yearning for a voice from above smiling down, saying "...i am well pleased"
Seeking in the spirit that very thing which you must unveil in isolation
The revelation dawns in intense clarity
My disclosure i will not unsheathe by mere contemplation
Certainly not in the arms of he who deems to dispossess me
For what else can he proffer if not words of incitement
So to fate i have recourse to leave the adjudication
Of a certainty to resolve the creation of companion, Cupid
While i remain here in my dark twisted world, the turmoil ever deepening.
Categories:
unsheathe, confusionwords,
Form:
Free verse
I really am sorry
That for all those nights
Spent dreaming of skies starry
I hid from your lights
Silently screaming in the dark
Unable to breathe
A stroll through Hell’s park
The knife I unsheathe
But if you don’t know
The guilt I suffer
In my heart is woe
While each day is rougher
Oh, how much I wish to say,
“Every morning is a new day.”
Categories:
unsheathe, depression, grief, lonely, pain,
Form:
Sonnet
Terrorism is a villainous violence,
Used by those who disagree,
Bloodshed breaks the somber silence,
Between those who feel unfree.
However, when one disagrees
With how the system works,
They are targeted by an intelligent team
Of thieves who wear white wicked smirks.
Welcome to America, a republic of United States,
Where your pick-pocketed dollars are spent,
On a government gang who uses hate,
To murder with money that from you went.
The true terrorists are the ones who wage,
Wars for oils and hegemony,
Inciting their civilized slaves with fear and rage,
With methodical theory made by Machiavelli.
Over three hundred million of us,
Have been convinced,
That five hundred monsters must,
Act as a regent prince.
We are taught in their public schools
What they want us to think,
About how to see those who rule,
In this prison where freedoms freely shrink.
Taxes and rules taken and written by carnivorous imbeciles,
Deepen the pockets of those who've stolen from the rank and file.
The dragons drag their drones which drop from atop the empyrean:
Trickled missiles made by smiles of self-proclaimed humanitarians.
Like candy into a trick-or-treater's unsuspecting pillowcase,
The surprise drops unto the bullseye on a beaming face.
Oblong bombs obliterate their targets who're blasted into oblivion,
Checked off a list of might-be murderers by gangs of the governing.
Whose old faithful champaign bottles burst in bellicose victory,
As the unelected republic jigs with their jolly old valedictory.
True terrorism is to manipulate with police and military budgets,
Paid for by those who fall victim to the brotherhood's bludgeon.
We must fight the totalitarian status quo with knowledge and speech,
So with our thoughts we can remove the parasitical political leech.
Now unsheathe the might in hidden in thy mind,
So we may leave terror where it belongs: behind.
Categories:
unsheathe, america, anger, freedom, political,
Form:
Rhyme