Neopoet

Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

BettyBuff
BettyBuff
Apr 07, 2015 ⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)

Ours Is The Fury

My unsheathed sword is dulled
with gelatinous gruel
I smile slowly
I'm a survivor

I've wrought woeful horror
on unsuspecting neighbour
I smile cruely
I'm a lover

If I was the Knight-in-armor
with battles brought before kings
The rose-tint of history
would excuse these things

But I'm not

I'm a modern barbarian
and ours is the fury
that shall not speak it's name
for the want of salvation

About This Poem

Last Few Words: Been off the radar for months...just getting the creative juices going again....

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Sheffield, ENGLAND

Favorite Poets: I don't respond to bullying, especially intellectual bullying.

More from this author

Comments

judyanne

judyanne

10 years 3 months ago

hi Ells

Good write - I can feel the power it exudes...

Suggestion -
2nd stanza - perhaps another word for 'lovingly'?
Its very close to 'lover' on the next line
The likeness of the words spoilt it a little, for me at least

lovely to see you again
love judy
xxx

Sparrow

Sparrow

10 years 3 months ago

Ells

Great to have you back, hope you will stay and walk with us we have journey's to do, good write see more of your writes later,
Yours Ian..

R

raj

10 years 3 months ago

Hi Betty

I liked it

Regards,

weirdelf

weirdelf

10 years 3 months ago

You are one of my favourites.

Your poetry has grown by leaps and bounds.

I have a silly request. When I got my librarianship diploma I called it my "License To Shhh", I don't suppose you could incorporate it somewhere? [grins]

wesley snow

wesley snow

10 years 3 months ago

Excellent.

Of course you mentioned "sword" which was cheating. You had me after that.

Lamar Ingraham

Lamar Ingraham

8 years 2 months ago

Re. As per 'Ours Is the Fury'

Mrs. Ellie has one of the rarest qualities in all literature, and it’s a great shame that the word for it has been thoroughly debased by the cosmetic racketeers, so that one is almost ashamed to use it to describe a real distinction. Nevertheless, the word is charm — charm as Keats would have used it. Who else has it today? It’s not a matter of pretty writing or clear style. It’s a kind of subdued magic, controlled and exquisite, the sort of thing you get from good string quartettes.