My sword has no ‘S’.

It is made out of ink,

And its blade has the keenness

Of things that I think.

My sword has no ‘S’.

It’s as sharp as a knife,

But it also brings laughter

And love and new life.

My sword has no ‘S’

But that gives it more might.

My sword has the freedom

That’s needed to fight.






3 Comments to “Swords”

  1. I have a question to ask if I may,
    Whose turn will it be to die today?

    One act of violence, leads to another
    you kill their son, they kill your brother.

    Who told you to do this,
    was it all your idea.
    Did your God instruct you
    is that who you fear?.

    Your god would not want you
    to kill or to maim
    to cause such destruction,
    heartbreak and pain.

    What you have done,
    you’ve chosen to do
    for your own twisted reasons,
    it’s all down to you!.

    So I ask again, await your reply
    whose turn today, will it be to die?.

    Brilliant, and poignant. I hope you don’t mind me posting my poem called ‘Question’, which I wrote in answer to the atrocities in Paris. Thank you.

  2. Thank you, and well done with the poem!

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