The Swing Of Damocles
The shredding sound of the thunder
cuts through a suppled-bone bit,
of a fighter's howling swing
a holied sword pierces
thrills the victorious stance
of the brave crawling wind zooming...
There was only one heap of slaughters
stalling all the fences of a defense;
The rehearsed agony of a coward
binding, pinning his own malady;
And the question asked worriedly
was: What will be the next plight?
His doldrums wear those who've downed
and those who've remained lighted!
Lo! ...was the cursing view of battles
resented the smell of the dying piece?
Or, were the vanguards of peace retold
their ventures at the foot of a queen?
Kingdoms failed to anchor a treasured behest
while legends bestowed upon the epics!