The Song of the Sword, Poetry by B R Peabody

Genre: Society, Life

In the pain of the furnace my body was forged,
Longer than life have I been;
The fury of battle is where I have gorged,
On kidney and liver and spleen;
You think me a trinket so prettily shown,
Yet many’s the life I have claimed;
Parting the sinew and hewing the bone,
My mercy is leaving you maimed;
In hope I was wrought and in anger unsheathed,
Blood flows like wine where I’ve played;
I’m promised to Death and to Chaos bequeathed,
For I am the Devil’s own blade.

******

Oh thou fool if only you could see the sights I’ve seen,
If only you’d experienced the places I have been;
I rode the Steppes of Russia on the horse of Genghis Khan,
And hacked and slew the peasants on the roads to Kazakhstan.
I’ve taken life of woman and I’ve taken life of child,
And…