Tag Archives: sword

Use The Sword

25 Jun

alexander

Use the Sword

Dilemmas worm their way into
Our lives and we commence
To ruminate and ponder
As we try to make some sense

Theorizing, planning and
Contingencies abound
So much wasted time as we go
Round and round and round

The warriors of old saw value
In good strategy
But more often than not,
They knew there was one hasty key

That unlocked almost every problem
Quandray, obstacle
The same long, sharp solution which
Cut through Gordian’s bull

Use the sword on that which plagues you
With so much self-doubt
Use the sword to cut through that
Which doesn’t deserve clout

Use the sword, be done with it
And stop wasting your mind
And time on things that hold you back
Leave pieces in behind

Leave ribbons in your wake
Be resolute in your solution
Most worriments can be dispatched
With one downward volution

                                   ~Miro

The Legend of Modan Teer

3 Mar

sword

The Legend of Modan Teer

Many legends can be written with a pen and ink
But the legend of Lord Teer requires poet to rethink
The quill will not suffice, his lore demands red, heated steel
To etch and carve his conquerings and capture his great zeal

For normals and mere mortals, cold, black ink will do just fine
But the mythos of Lord Teer commands a much more stalwart shrine
And so this Warrior Poet hammers a worthy blade to scribe
The vanquishments of Teer to share with his descended tribe

A worthy blade it is, my kin, the kind that drove back Kings
A blade to mortalize a God or sever angel’s wings
Folded seven thousand times and hammered twice as much
The kind of blade that sends a chill down spine from slightest touch

It is with this grim blade that I recount the tale of Teer
Born from man with all his weakness, doubt, ego and fear
Born from parents taught the same, but ah! Modan was wise!
From early on, he knew quite well that mouths spoke mostly lies

And so he forged a mighty saber, same as carves this tale
An angled blade that cannot be wielded by weak or frail
A crooked claymore tearing skin, demanding heavy price
A scimitar that whispers, “I am a costly device”

He named the blade “Golgadar,” in his tongue: “Whirlwind” it meant
Clearly not from Heaven, great Golgadar was Hell-bent
And hammered, scorched and forged just as its wielder came to be
Lord Modan Teer was bent by Hell, but not broken, you see

Golgadar was a hurricane and captured discontent
The great Lord Teer eviscerated all the prey it sent
The hollow Kings of Fear and Queens Doubt were brought to knees
And no mercy was shown by Teer, to deaf ears fell their pleas

When fear was crushed and doubt destroyed, his peers could not let go
“Fear and doubt is in our hearts, it is all that we know!”
And so the people changed the name and face of doubt and fear
They said it wielded a whirlwind, its name: Lord Modan Teer

He died a gray, old King still feared because he possessed none
Some said he came to Earth by cutting a path through the sun
They cowered in his presence ‘till the day he closed his eyes
And took his final breath, then ran should Modan Teer arise

Centuries would pass before a young man showed the nerve
To storm into his tomb and grab the great sword with a curve
They called him mad to show no fear, he scoffed and entered “Hell”
And there, just as his Lord Teer had, was bent but never fell

Golgadar found a worthy wielder every hundred years
One who gladly paid the price of calluses and tears
No one writes of cowards who told Teer to run and hide
Too many countless stories of those who just lived and died

But for a life like Modan Teer’s, an opus must be hewn
Not written on thin paper, no! Engraved upon the moon!
Lord Modan Teer, a normal man who awoke from the sleep
And lived a mighty life in centre of the whirlwind’s reap

                                      ~Miro

Love Thy Enemy?

30 Dec

Love Thy Enemy?

I’ve seen a couple folks who feel their spirit has been roused
Their inner Warrior’s awakened as my writes were browsed
They warn how all those before them should beware what’s to come
They threaten others because “A Warrior I have become!”
How sad and misguided to have missed the point so badly
Yes, enemies must be fought…but do not do so madly
Yes, a sneer may don your lips and teeth bared with true grit
But deep inside the heart, nothing but pure love should emit
Posturing and performance may be required to
Dissuade the ignorant normals who know not what they do
But deep inside where no one sees, there must be empathy
There must be courage to admit, “I love my enemy”
To say “I understand you even if I don’t condone”
To say “It hurts me to do this, your pain is not alone”
A Warrior is so plugged in, connected, so aware
That though sometimes they inflict pain, to do so causes wear
It is a choice that’s made with great deliberation since
To cause pain to another person causes SELF to wince
Most who have not awakened don’t suffer the effects
Right away, the “guilt” or “conscience” takes some time to flex
But truly what we should call this is “Empathy” my friends
And if you are a human being, there’s no way to cleanse
You are connected to them all, both loved ones and your foes
And you can’t start an argument or have it come to blows
And “win” because your foe incurred more hurt than you sustained
That is why after the rush, eventually you’re drained
‘Cause even the most self-absorbed, egoic person feels
Empathy for all those villains, scoundrels, tricksters, heels
Try your best to hate them, you will fail no matter what
And that’s because you’re here to LOVE, it’s programmed in your gut
So when you feel like talking tough about how they will pay
Be sure to take a moment and mention your own dismay
Perhaps if you would ponder self-destruction, you’d relent
You wouldn’t be so quick to fight a years-long argument
Let it go and wish them well, there’s no battle to “win”
Instead focus all of your strength on the great war within

                                   ~Miro

Nurture Thyself

28 Dec

Nurture Thyself

“Do you love yourself?” the question is so often asked
“Of course!” the answer’s said with a smile that expertly masks
A body that is not nurtured, it’s slow and brain is fogged
Black tar coating lungs and grease within arteries clogged
An irritated attitude, frustrated and hostile
“Yes, I love myself!” some say despite all of the bile
That does reside within them, that love quickly turns to hate
When they don’t get their way, they grow offended and irate
And all because they’re weakened by the lack of nurturing
The failure to treat their body like it’s a Queen or King
To love thyself means to encourage your own health and strength
To stimulate, develop, foster, go to any length
To sacrifice in order to fuel love’s demanding fire
To not just say the concept but to work, to do, perspire
And when the work is done, you won’t need to answer the question
Your glowing skin with pinkish hue will serve as your expression
Your wide awake and alert eyes will provide your reply
Your focused thinking, energy, cheer and joy will reply
Love yourself? Of course you do! Who’d admit they do not?
But do you nurture yourself? That will take a bit more thought

                                                    ~Miro

The Hotter the Forge, The Stronger the Sword

27 Apr

forge

The Hotter the Forge, The Stronger the Sword

The sword’s a symbol of great strength
As well as elegance
The blade can withstand great duress
If its metal is dense

Although the final sword is sleek
And smooth with mirror shine
It wasn’t always free of dents
Or a perfect straight line

The steel within its blade was not
Always so strong and stout
The path that the sword must take is
Not the most pleasant route

The raw, weak metal’s placed inside
A forge of blazing heat
And if that wasn’t bad enough
The swordsmith starts to beat

Upon the raw material
With hammer, unrelenting
Battering and pummeling
And shaping, reinventing

Stoking fire even hotter
Making the steel glow
Into the reinforced blade
That we have come to know

Every time its folded and
Is hammered out once more
Makes the blade even stronger
Down to its deepest core

Every centigrade of heat
That the forge does increase
Unlocks dormant potential
And more strength does release

We all are blades within the forge
And life is our swordsmith
Strength without an intense heat
Is no more than a myth

Just like the blade, you cannot form
Unless the fire’s stoked
Unless the hammer’s brought down hard
And your true strength’s evoked

                                  ~Miro

Ronin

31 Jan

“Public opinion is a weak tyrant, compared with our private opinion – what a man thinks of himself, that is which determines, or rather indicates his fate” ~Henry David Thoreau

Ronin

In feudal Japan there was a
Specific samurai
Called “Ronin” who had lost a master
And was urged to die

Their loyalty meant much to them
And so it was believed
When the master they served was
Gone, they would not be grieved

The samurai would take his sword
And commit “seppuku”
Suicide so that to their
Master they could stay true

“Ronin” was the name given
To those who wouldn’t end
Their own lives and received great shame
From those that did depend

Still on living masters, Ronin
Were held with disdain
Labeled outcasts by the others
To wander the plain

It wasn’t until recently
That I gave this more thought
I’ve come to see the Ronin as
More than what we’ve been taught

The more I’ve pondered, I have seen
The opposite is true
Ronin were not cowardly
‘Cause they did not die too

Maybe it took courage to
Live on and serve their King
Although he was no longer there
His teachings could still bring

Strength and hope to everyone
And plunging sword in gut
Would make the door on all the things
They could still give slam shut

I’ve come to respect Ronin for
Not listening to those
Who’d rather take the easy way
Than dealing with their woes

They showed the courage to live on
And turn their backs on men
Who blindly followed without thought
Ignoring their own zen

I do not think the Ronin feared
From death, they were quite brave
To other people’s opinions
And thoughts they weren’t a slave

Although their King was gone, to them
He was still very present
They knew it was their duty to
Serve even as a peasant

They understood that status wasn’t
What it’s all about
Samurai or Ronin, neither
Label had more clout

And with the loss of their master
Responsibility
Was placed upon the Ronin even
Though they were now free

Free to go and see and do
Whatever they so pleased
Many of them did not have
A life that became eased

They still adhered to the code that
They always had lived by
The world is robbed of that when  you
Plunge sword in gut and die

As a servant of a King
Who I have never met
“Ronin” is a concept that
I will not soon forget

I know the Creator exists
But in this mortal form
Where seeing with my eyes and hearing
With ears is the norm

He isn’t something that I can
Connect with like the rest
Seven billion other people
Also can attest

And so I wander Ronin-style
Across the plains of Earth
Carrying the spirit of
My master through my mirth

And peace and grace and fortitude
Until my grave is dug
And as a Ronin, it won’t be
My hand that pulls the plug

                                  ~Miro

Ribbons of Angst

26 Jan

“When you feel fear, use the sword.  Take it up here and cut the mind to ribbons.  Slash through all those regrets and fears, anything else that lives in the past and the future.” ~Socrates, “Way of the Peaceful Warrior”

Ribbons of Angst

You’ll rarely find a rhyme of mine
In which I fret, bemoan and whine
In fact there may not be a single
Angst and torment laden jingle

True, there are some diatribes
Which contain a few sterner vibes
But not once have I written where
Just misery I did declare

There always is a message of
Empowerment, support and love
So since I’m human and still feel
The same frustrations, what’s the deal?

Where are the poems in which I
Kvetch, complain, lament and cry?
I feel the same feelings as you
But with my sword I cut them through

I recognized those tormentors
Unsheathed my blade and fought those wars
To ribbons they were reduced to
And with the wind, away they blew

I do not have a single piece
Of ribbon to make forehead crease
I could not humor you at all
Of fears that tried to make me fall

And that is why I do not speak
Of moments where I’m scared and weak
My blade reduces every fear
To ribbons which then disappear

When you are suffering and hurt
And grab a pen and want to blurt
Instead, try grabbing sword instead
And face the battle in your head

Confront your torments and swing hard
And leave them severed, slashed and marred
Reduce the angst to ribbons, then
Write of your conquest with that pen

                                           ~Miro