Random Poems

The Pen and the Sword

With the pen she wrote,

"And he started war."

A shame she couldn't quote

He who lay dying on the floor.

On the next page, she continued with,

"He only caused more mayhem."

She resumed with the fourth word, then the fifth.

His sword symbolizing manslaughter, the perfect emblem.

"If only he just listened,"

She complained.

"Yes, his sword glistened,

But in the end, it was bloodstained."

Pages turned, she switched utensils.

"Battle after battle, he was invincible.

But it is I who can tell his story with pencils.

Though, he wasn't so convincible.

"Years and years have passed since his pass,

Yet I am still here telling his tale.

I remember the day he fell to the grass,

His eyes so gray, his skin so pale.

"It was such a pathetic sight,

For he bragged of how powerful he was.

He never seemed to get tired, that energized knight.

But Death finally caught him in his claws.

"He had lost the long war.

I thought it would never end.

His sword washed up on the shore,

I saved it in the shed for my dead friend."

She stopped, took a sip, and continued on.

"I miss him. I really do.

But like everyone else, he was a pawn

In a journey we all have to travel through.

As other slaves of war drop one after another,

I have lived to this day, much longer than them.

As I grow to even become a mother,

He died from fighting among mayhem."

With one page left, she cried in sorrow.

"I feel so alone, just with me.

If only he stopped, he could live until tomorrow.

But I'll let him go; let him be."