Poem: The Old Sword

Hung there after fights,

Against horrible beasts,

The sword made of steel and stained blood,

And containing the stories of many men before.

But now it sits there,

Wobbly on the wall,

And waiting for whatever adventure needs it next.

Whatever thing should grace its purpose.

But the world is not that world anymore,

The beasts were slain,

And the hides hung out to dry,

The people who walk the world,

Worry about other things,

Being late,

Being poor,

And evil that cannot be so easily stabbed.

Special thanks to: Melissa Potter

Did you like the article? Dislike? Tell me about it in the comments. I would love to hear your opinions! If interested in specific articles, or want to write as a guest, you can message me at scifibrandonscott@gmail.com. If you want to help keep this blog going, consider becoming my patron at https://www.patreon.com/coolerbs. Thanks for reading!


Let me hear your opinion.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s