My Own Sword
Not all rare swords
Are found in lake
Some fine blades
Are those we make
We forge them in
Our burning soul
They may cut down
An enemy bold
Or they just may
Cause to bleed
Our writing soul
If we find need
To bleed ourselves
Upon a page
To right some wrongs
Or vent our rage
Or they may simply
Cut through myth
With it, may I
Use my gift
To tell a story
Long unread
About a landscape
Drenched blood red
In time of strife
Yet clannish true
I find the knife
Which awakens you
To hear those Reivin'
And a Ridin' tales
Set upon those
Proud Border Fells
Kelly