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The Traveler's Tale #4
| Open Poetry #45 |
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The Traveler's Tale #4 |
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Gunslinger Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901TX, USA 
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There is something 'bout a rifle ball- Whistling past your ear- Which turns the blood to water, And makes you cringe in fear. They're but a coward's weapon, A pox that they've been made- Take me back to days of yore... When men lived by the blade. When all that stood twixt men and doom Was steel, as cold as death- And blood, and guts...and gritted teeth- And shouts and labored breath- The clash of arms, the battle cries- The kiss of razor blade- To speed one on the path to hell- Where warriors beds are made. Far closer than a favored tart The blade hung at his side- And dearer far, to warriors heart Than brother, or his bride. When sword and shield did rule the field And warriors did not quail- But fought and died, sword by their side- Thus goes the Traveler's Tale. |
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| © Copyright 2009 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
These traveler's Tales almost seem like memories from another lifetime. I wrote something similar once that just kind of came out of nowhere. Ida |
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Robert E. Jordan Member Rara Avis
since 2008-01-25
Posts 8541Philadelphia, Pennsylvania |
Yo Gunslinger, Your "traveler" has the right idea. I'd never go anywhere without my pocket knife. Bobby |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
Another wonderfully written tale. |
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