The way of the pen

The way of the pen,
The mind of a Warrior,
Ink that flows like blood.

The Sword

There are many parts of a life,
That make up the whole,
And many components of a man
That forge his character.
Chill winds and winter snow,
Or sun and sea,
Each can test a man and temper his steel,
The mix of the iron the bough
That breaks or bends,
In the storm of his making

I am completely overwhelmed to have won the perfect poet award for week 48. More than anything it wonderful to be read and have so many great comments. Here’s to all you readers and writers out there, and all the inspiration you pass around, like torches burning in the depths of night.

I would like to nominate: Braga

A Warrior’s Song

If I must die,
Then let this rain day pour my blood
With long forgotten valor,
A worthy end for song or silence,
Let empires of lesser men rise in my stead,
Grey faced and pale of limb,
Lifeless husks eating up the earth,
Till she shakes her back free and remembers,
Long ago I stood,

Did not kneel before the fray,
And died for that oft derided word:


A thin umbra of light,

All beyond is darkness, irrelevance,

There is only the now,

The fist, the blood and the pain…

And the joy, the unbearable, unbreakable joy

Of living,

In pure concentration,

This poem –

All that’s left behind

Empty Hand

The eyes just see,
the brain just thinks,
of the mind there is no trace;
a thought that comes and goes,
in this space
that holds all things,
in the palm of an empty hand.

The Way of the Warrior

Label the world and you lose it,

Name beauty and you create ugliness,

Claim goodness and there also is evil,

But accept death and you embrace life…

This is the way of the warrior.

(C) Copyright Mark B Williams 2014 Registered & Protected