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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 lovingly
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

Last few words: 
Been off the radar for months...just getting the creative juices going again....
Editing stage: 

Comments

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

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

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..

.
Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

I liked it

Regards,

raj (sublime_ocean)

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]

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet is a workshop. Poets take the time to read and think about your work and offer suggestions.
There is no obligation to make any changes however please acknowledge critique and comments.

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

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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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.

V/R,
Lamar of Liberty City

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