Beware, Be Warned
He’s not for the feint hearted
He fought the war that won his freedom,
He stood his ground when all was wrong,
He flew with his arrows to destruction,
And now we all sing his bravery song.
**
He answered the chieftains with his fists on,
Bottling his anger into a potent brew,
He stood for the little guy; staunch and strong,
Arrogant against those stagnant few.
**
He believes in a life better lived,
Taking on the battles of his fellow man,
Nothing slides past without an inspection,
And when he finds wrong, he’ll take his stand.
**
Others are quick to throw upon their judgement,
Believing he’s a trouble-maker through and through,
If they only took the time to listen and understand,
They’d learn he’s more than they ever knew.
**
He laughs with the children, letting them ride his broad shoulders,
Hiding his grief behind a handsome face of smiles,
His tongue is quick to agree to a fun Sunday,
And for the little ones, he’ll always stem his denials.
**
He’s a lover of women, those pretty girls he adores,
Not a one woman man, there’s too much to go round,
He worships and blesses them all with his grace,
But again he’ll not take their pettiness, he’ll stand his ground.
**
He rules the streets with an iron fist,
Bending trouble to his will in an easy fight,
Torture will become those who craft in cunningly,
And blessing will be adorned for those that do right.
**
However, don’t fool yourself to believe he’s an easy pushover,
As I’ve heard him scream at the top of his lungs,
“Ride my bare back and cover it with welts,
And watch me metamorphosis into a speaker of tongues.”
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.
Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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Wild Card Weekend Recap: What Happens Now?
I think I figured out why I love Wild Card Weekend so much. It's because it's the first playoff anything of the calendar year. The NFL season starts in the fall, and once upon a time, the champion was crowned either on or slightly before New Year's. The evolution of the NFL schedule has resulted in the playoffs starting just into the New Year, and currently, the final week of the season falls on the first weekend of the New Year, with Wild Card Weekend coming a week after that. So yes, chronologically, the NFL's Wild Card Weekend serves as the first playoff anything of the calendar year.
By Clyde E. Dawkins6 days ago in Unbalanced
Comments (2)
Oooo, looks like the dude's a playa hehehehehe. Loved your poem!
On a level with the best warrior poems and surpassing the idea simply of telling a soldier’s tale, this work presents a portrait of a capable man. Not only that, he is a ladies man and lover of children. It stands on its principles and shows what a real fighter is.