Poetry 365 | Day 332 | Tongue
Of holy weapons there are none,
Least of all the forked tongue,
But if precise it holds some sway,
Upon the makings of the day.
A plow it can be formed into,
If wielder decides that justice rules,
And better thoughts are taken heed,
The mount of truth must be the steed.
Close to sacred are honest words,
Useful in the stay of swords
If aligned with Divine will;
Not some craven need to kill.
If this muscle is trained toward love
A way emerges from above.
--Stephen Martin, 11/29/19
To streamline this challenge I will be linking to day one for the details. This is a cross promotion of the Steemit and Cent platforms. Visit me on Steemit. Visit me on Cent.
In a nutshell, post your poetry below for consideration in my monthly, online, blockchain, poetry journal.
What's your 365?