Bear's New Sword

It was a terrible battle, grim to behold. There I was, keeping watch over the mead hall, my sword at the ready to take on the fiercest foe, when suddenly I felt the hot breath of the dragon. She seized me with her razor sharp teeth and wrested me from my post. Before I knew it, she had carried me back to her lair and was trying to wrest my helmet from my head, in preparation for eating me alive, as she had so many of my warrior-kin. I would have died then and there if not for the coming of an angel, who took me up and rescued me from the beast. Happily, she had failed to pierce the mail covering my face, but in the course of the battle, she splintered my weapon, the first that I have ever lost to any opponent, monster or bear. I appealed to the great Maker, however, and he fashioned me a bright new weapon, a sword of hope and power, endowed with the energy of Lego and love.

More prosaically, the dog ate my foil, but now I have this new one. Isn't it cool?

Comments

  1. Fierce the furry one, fouling the foil,

    Hard at the helm and the hot breath panting.

    Bear boldly battles, braving the beast.

    Only the owner can rescue, rearm him.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ah, poetry! That's it exactly! Except that the angel was my son and the Maker of the sword my husband, um, that is, not Bear's son but RLFB's. Well, you know. : )

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Thank you for taking the time to respond to my blog post. I look forward to hearing what you think!

F.B.

Popular posts from this blog

The Witches of Salemville

Getting Medieval on Postmodernism