There was this plain, straight sword
In a glass case with others of its' ilk
But what made this one stand out
Were the many nicks along its' blade
Among the rest of the swords on display
Some had jewel encrusted, fancy hilts
Most had etchings along the blades
Yet it was still this one unadorned weapon
That drew and relentlessly held my gaze
Those imperfections down each side
That no smithy had been able to grind out
Showed to this day, the battles it had fought
Of men it had slain before their time
Or at least hideously maimed
A deadly tale, silently told
Swords the weapons of destruction of humans in wars and the poetry here on sword is beautiful.
Wonderful painting with words, Marilyn! Perfectly executed!
Dear Marilyn, The Poem like the sword is a cut above the rest. Enjoyed it, thank you. Love David
Marilyn, fear not. I spoke with the curator and he assures me it was a poet's sword, (Those nicks were merely notches, and very few were earned?) Danny
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like this, the structure is souund and paints a picture of a story of underdog recognition well done