Poetry, a weak man’s sword

Forced to yield it to prove my brawn

A joke, a jest I had voiced my displeasure

Reluctant and grumbling I grasped the hilt

But soon my feelings took a tilt

 

How strange it felt, perfect in my hands

With a swing and a poise it became a dance

Swishing and twirling through that canvas of letters

Inked paper coming to life and I the creator

A burning peace never felt before

 

Language and soul entangled to one

But alas our final song has come

Time to return to a life of power and strength

The life of a fearsome, brave knight

To cast aside the pen, a weakening sight

 

Scorn and ridicule my peers will hurl

Choosing the dance instead of the duel

But treasure of treasures that warmth of words

To her, my new queen I swear fealty

Throwing off my last master’s hold on me

 

Refusing the ruins of a past life

Reborn and seeking forth a new mission

An ocean of ink yet to be explored

Gripping the quill with all my might

My trusted partner in this new right