What she told me
Arrived at last at the monastery
she listened as he asked
why are your aspirations so very puny?
why do you not aspire
to be liberated for the sake
of all mankind?
and, she said, she could
have cut the silence with a sword;
the two-edged sword, of unreason
and of reason; the same light
flashing from the hero’s sword
or burning steady, gentle, from the candle
there in the temple of the heart.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
He Entered Into Battle With A Blunt Edged Sword
He entered into battle with a blunt edged sword,
But he did not know quite why.
His sword selection was done without motive,
To battle and kill his fellow man.
So subconsciously he picked out this sword.
This sword not of this world, not out to cut to bleed.
But this innocent man didn't wish to realize,
What prize he would pay.
In midst of this battle, recieving the swiftest,
Blows from his enemy,
This soldier just kept getting hurt.
Five, six and seven more blows made him hit back,
This soldier proudly used his blunt sword,
Till his nemesis bearing a razor sharp one,
Came along and challenged the already fallen one,
Who gave a swift plunge into his enemy's heart.
But the enemy did not stagger or fall.
Neither did the soldier with the blunt sword.
This soldier's enemy left the battleground,
When he saw that the one with the blunt sword,
Knew all along the possibility of his death.
Still he fought, so he himself could die,
Which the other soldier was saddened by that man's stance.
He told that man, 'if we all fought battles with a blunt
sword,
Then we would all truly win,
For the battleground would know no mortality.
He further told him, 'because of you, your side
Truly wins. But so does our.
We love you,
Blunt edged sword soldier man.'
poem by Vera Sidhwa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Flaming Sword of Light
My will, not willing to comply
A upcoming storm up to a rise
Silence stands still tonight
The rain will try
Filling the lake full of lies
Yet the water can't quench the flames
For my weapon seeks only the truth
The sword of light
Reaper of all lies
Shall my soul be safe tonight
The sword of light shall keep me awake
Is will take the lies revealing the truth
The flames of it's holy light shall burn away the hate
My sword takes a hypocrite and sends it to Hade's crew
Upon their burning eyes
All I see is regret
The sword reveals all
Concealing my soul, their demons shall fall
The flaming sword of light, protector of all
My defence is my weapon
The flaming sword of light
It will defend me tonight
Keep the parisites of Hade's away
For sleep I shall stay
The internal flame of the sword
Shall burn them away
The light will forever shine
Blinding the demons of the night
The sword of light is mine
Protecting my soul from curruption
The innocence of a child's mind
Will stay protected
From the lies and dispise.
The heaven's light, and the flame from hell
In this sword will stay alive
The flaming sword of life.
Shall it protect me tonight
(12-18-09)
poem by Elisha De La Rosa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thunder Sword
Man did not fear man
But the hero fear death of hero
By the dangerous thunder sword
Thro his shine sword and bright eyes
That bends all head of tree with arm
Oh, thou spirit of thunder,
No sword no spear in his palm
But his hand sharp more than sword
And it killed more than fire
No man can face and defeat
Thro his molest fire of his mouth
The lightning echo on sky bewilder heart
And thunderbolts annoyed with mirror of man
Which no man can harm on earth.
.
poem by Olugbenga Ayoola.O
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Sword Of Mine
The Sword that I carry
Though made not of iron or steel,
It is a mighty sword
That I proudly do so wield.
Though it wont break the skin
Or combat the weapons of a foe
But this is a mighty sword of mine
More precious than silver or gold.
This sword that I carry
I proudly display it in my hand,
For I know this sword of mine
Is greater, than any other mans.
It comforts me when I am tired
It will warm me when I am cold
It will lie down beside of me
To protect, and strengthen my soul.
The sword that I hold
Is tattered, and so very worn
It has been a friend along side of me,
In the sunshine and many storms.
It has shown me a path to follow
And has lit the road that I walk,
And those nights when I was alone and scared
Then to me, I could hear it talk.
The sword that I wield
Though may be different, in shape or size,
But it is the same sword
Which for years has cushioned the souls cry.
It has been here since the dawn of time
And will be here when the great walls fall,
And then when all men of war and hate reflect,
My sword, will be the mightiest sword of all.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dignity
at par
with you
my equal
in this fight
you are
so gentle
when i
lose the grip of
my sword and it falls
on the ground
you have the courage
to pick it up
for me and tell
me
i need it most now
and then
the point of the sword
now faces
frozen at the eye
of my heart
i stare
coldly and i perspire
to the thought
of my death
at this point
you say
tnanks it is fair
and i look at
you again
at par
shoulder to shoulder
my equal
you let me go
you put your sword
in your scabbard
and take the stride
on your white horse
and leave me
agape my mouth
opens
you are at par
with me
my equal
you have all the chance
to kill me at once
but you didn't
you make me live
now
a new man
a fighter rising from his fall
gentle and
brave as ever
to fight
my own wars.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mu'tamid's Lament In Prison
In my breast,
A wail of grief,
Without any spark or flash,
Alone survives,
Passionless, ineffectual.
A free man is in prison today,
Without a spear or a sword;
Regret overwhelms me
And also my strategy.
My heart
Is drawn by instinct to chains.
Perhaps my sword was of the same steel.
Once I had a two-edged sword-
It turned into the chains that shackle me now.
How whimsical and indifferent
Is the Author of fates.
[Translated by Mustansir Mir]
Note: Mu‘tamid was the king of Seville and an
Arabic poet. He was defeated and
imprisoned by a ruler of Spain. Mu‘tamid's
poems have been translated into English
and published in the Wisdom of the East
series.
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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In The House Of The Lord!
Here I dwell,
In the house of the lord,
With his only son,
And righteous sword.
Here in his power and grace
His dire wish is that mankind is one race,
You have heard from the house of the lord
His only son, and righteous sword.
Here is the power of the son of man,
Saying, 'We must take a stand! '
The example being from the house of the lord,
And his only son, and righteous sword.
poem by M. Rene Riel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Scars Of Lovers....
a sharp sword
sharpens itself against
another sword
metal to metal
to the sound of the gritting teeth
one wants to imagine
an ecstasy of
a wound
blood dropping from
a slit on the
hand
there is none here
for this is but an affair
of a sword to another sword
thinking that
there is no war but love
in the air
sweet sounds of birds
sex moans and
calls for a mating
of the season
there is this hate that hides
inside the chest
where there is no option but
to sleep with
the one that never tickles you
not a bit
where love is feigned and
subdued
by need by survival by
pretenses
that man understands it
one can see the scars
not the stars......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today... 'The Glorious Sword
There is a Sword that is so sharp and so keen
the most Glorious Sword that has ever been.
Mighty in battle He has slain all His foes
and will have victory wherever He goes.
The Word of Truth and the Sword of the Spirit
overcame death and shall all things inherit.
He breaks our shackles and scatters all His foes
with His glory heaven and earth overflows.
Christ the Son of God is that Glorious Sword
Saviour of the world and Everlasting Lord.
Devils fear and angels sing as He draws near
And all creation waits for Him to appear.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
St. John
John was bad he gave it everything he had
John he prayed for all the people ever made
John was cool he never did no afterschool
late at night when he praised the lord
he laid his hand down upon the sword
lay down upon the sword
lay down upon the sword
lay down upon the sword
lay down your bloody sword
John St. John be cool
tell the people they'll follow you
John St. John be cool
tell the people they'll follow you
late at night when he praised the lord
he lay his hands down upon the bloody sword
laid down upon the sword
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Death-Day Of Korner
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
The youth went down to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.
He went, with his noble heart unworn,
And pure, and high;
An eagle stooping from clouds of morn,
Only to die!
He went with the lyre, whose lofty tone
Beneath his hand
Had thrill'd to the name of his God alone,
And his Father-land.
And with all his glorious feelings yet
In their first glow,
Like a southern stream that no frost hath met
To chain its flow.
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.
He hath left a voice in his trumpet-lays
To turn the flight,
And a guiding spirit for after days,
Like a watch-fire's light.
And a grief in his father's soul to rest,
Midst all high thought;
And a memory unto his mother's breast,
With healing fraught.
And a name and fame above the blight
Of earthly breath,
Beautiful beautiful and bright,
In life and death!
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Contemplation Of The Sword
Reason will not decide at last; the sword will decide.
The sword: an obsolete instrument of bronze or steel,
formerly used to kill men, but here
In the sense of a symbol. The sword: that is: the storms
and counter-storms of general destruction; killing
of men,
Destruction of all goods and materials; massacre, more or
less intentional, of children and women;
Destruction poured down from wings, the air made accomplice,
the innocent air
Perverted into assasin and poisoner.
The sword: that is: treachery and cowardice, incredible
baseness, incredible courage, loyalties, insanities.
The sword: weeping and despair, mass-enslavement,
mass-tourture, frustration of all hopes
That starred man's forhead. Tyranny for freedom, horror for
happiness, famine for bread, carrion for children.
Reason will not decide at last, the sword will decide.
Dear God, who are the whole splendor of things and the sacred
stars, but also the cruelty and greed, the treacheries
And vileness, insanities and filth and anguish: now that this
thing comes near us again I am finding it hard
To praise you with a whole heart.
I know what pain is, but pain can shine. I know what death is,
I have sometimes
Longed for it. But cruelty and slavery and degredation,
pestilence, filth, the pitifulness
Of men like hurt little birds and animals . . . if you were
only
Waves beating rock, the wind and the iron-cored earth,
With what a heart I could praise your beauty.
You will not repent, nor cancel life, nor free man from anguish
For many ages to come. You are the one that tortures himself to
discover himself: I am
One that watches you and discovers you, and praises you in little
parables, idyl or tragedy, beautiful
Intolerable God.
The sword: that is:
I have two sons whom I love. They are twins, they were born
in nineteen sixteen, which seemed to us a dark year
Of a great war, and they are now of the age
That war prefers. The first-born is like his mother, he is so
beautiful
That persons I hardly know have stopped me on the street to
speak of the grave beauty of the boy's face.
The second-born has strength for his beauty; when he strips
for swimming the hero shoulders and wrestler loins
Make him seem clothed. The sword: that is: loathsome disfigurements,
blindness, mutilation, locked lips of boys
Too proud to scream.
Reason will not decide at last: the sword will decide.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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About the repentance
I am cheerful for what I’ve done
But more so for what I haven’t.
I am painful for what I’ve made
But more so for what I haven’t.
I am thankful for what I’ve got
But more so for what I haven’t.
I am shameful for what I’ve done
But more so for what I haven’t.
To rinse the sword won’t plug the blood;
To sheath the sword won’t heal the wound;
To break the sword won’t undo the wound.
Repentance is a selfish act
With no alternatives yet found.
06.05.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hero Entering The Beast's Lair
Standing outside the door,
the hero hears the sound of a monstrous creature taking massive breaths.
But he,
in white robes,
hesitates only to draw his sword.
Onward he marches.
The White Sword shining, almost glowing in his hand,
the breathing now nearly crushing the hero's heart and soul,
yet he continues.
Onward he marches.
The cold stone of the beast's lair slithering with water,
the door opening before him,
the thought of the beast that breathed those breathes plagues the hero's mind.
Still, he presses on.
Onward he marches.
The icy air penetrating his garments,
the door now closing behind him,
the creature,
a dragon,
now emerges from the fog.
Fiery Red eyes scorch everything they touch.
Yet, despite the horror before him,
the hero continues on.
poem by Jon McIntosh
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Ballot Or The Bullet
Give me liberty or give me death
No truer words have ever been said
Well are you prepared for your very last breath?
Dont you dare start what you cannot finish
So when we face, face the adversary
No longer are we the minority
And when history repeats her hour
The pendulum will swing, swing into power
Though not in vain like our forefathers
Freedom, never had no room for cowards
For in the end, there will be equality
By any means necessary
The ballot or the bullet
The choice is up to you
The ballot or the bullet
Tell me what you gonna do
The sword or the pen
Can be held by the same hand
Whats it gonna take to liberate?
An emancipation, a false proclamation?
All these token words that you legislate
Sound a little bit absurd. hey! and a little too late
When a house is divided, it just will not stand
Once its decided, a line drawn in the sand
Ah! the ballot or the bullet
The choice is up to you
The ballot or the bullet
Tell me what you gonna do
The sword or the pen
Can be held by the same hand
The ballot or the bullet
The choice is up to you
The ballot or the bullet
Tell me what you gonna do
The ballot or the bullet
The choice is up to you
The ballot or the bullet
Tell me what you gonna do
The sword or the pen can be
The sword or the pen can be
The sword or the pen can be
The sword or the pen can be
The sword or the pen can be
Held, held by the same hand!
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Heart of a Boy
To Mrs. Guy Wyndham
The heart of a boy is full of light,
Naked of self, quite pure and clean,
No shadows lurk in it: it is bright
Where God Himself hath been.
I looked in a boy's heart and saw
How its desire was white desire,
Burning upward, as winds might draw
The flame of a candle higher.
What was the heart's desire that burned
Like a white candle stirred in a breeze?
Power or glory or honour earned?
Love that is more than these?
The heart of a boy has but one goal.
The flying Danger smiles as she flies,
Makes her own of him, heart and soul,
With the lure of her lovely eyes.
The boy's heart now is set on a star,
A sword for the weak against the strong,
A young knight riding forth to the War
Who dies to right the wrong.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cross And Sword
The symbol for the Crusade is the sword!
Now, turn the sword upside down and then,
You will have the 'sign of the cross';
Because, the cross came from,
The symbol of the very swords they carried in killing others! !
Yes, the 'sword' turned upside down becomes the 'cross'.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I don't do a film unless it has a sword in it. And if it doesn't have a sword in it, I insist that they have one in the same room to keep me comfortable.
quote by Orlando Bloom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Zombie Encounter
oh thought the princess
can a girl not walk alone
if she's got secret protection
if careful not to lose direction
then you should all be aware
for demons are a real scare
for he maybe a vampire
or she maybe a monster
if they should all be zombies
you alone could win the battle
if you have a sword of magic
if not run toward the light
for the stranger in the night
could be danger in the day
when walking from the castle
she came upon some dark rays
the princess faced the zombie
with her sword laced with magic
he said, 'so rad a princess for me'
oh this is so to bad for him
when he flashed his teeth
she slashed her magic sword
with a wink and a big smile
he ran and ran for a mile
oh he was lucky she did miss
for all he wanted was a kiss
poem by Rachel Nichols
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The sword is very handsome. I am too old and infirm, as you see, to ever use a sword again, but I am glad that my old mother state has not entirely forgotten me.
quote by George Rogers Clark
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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