The Pen and the Sword

Suilaid, mellyn nin!* How is everyone today? Hopefully you're all doing well.

I've got a new-ish poem to post! (It's not new new, but it's new to you. Or most of you.) I wrote this for the Summer Creative Writing class I took this year. It was my final assignment and probably one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy it as well!
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The Pen and the Sword

For the life of a novel, the battle was fought
Between our good Writer and foul Writer’s Block.
It started when Writer’s Block swooped in one day,
Captured the novel, and carried it away.
When the Writer discovered what had occurred,
He knew that his story could not go unheard.
So, armed with his pen, the Writer set out
To find Writer’s Block and challenge him to a bout!
The villain was soon found and the challenge was given,
Writer’s Block laughed. “Have you a wish to stop living?
I am the slayer of stories, the terror of tales,
And the bane of all writers- surely you’ll fail.
But if you wish to attempt it, I’ll gladly comply,
And so on the same day, you and your novel will die.”
So he stepped out of his fortress and drew his dark blade-
Still bloody from all of the tales he had slain.
The Writer looked at the sword and then at his pen,
And prayed for a miracle right there and then.
The trumpet-call sounded for the fight to begin
And Writer’s Block charged, as if with one blow to win.
The Writer dodged, leaping aside,
Then again! And again! At this Writer’s Block cried,
“Stand and fight like a man, you cowardly cur!
You’re even more of a pansy than I thought you were.”
But the Writer kept dodging each stroke, stab, and strike,
In unending dread of losing his life.
But finally he found himself trapped by his foe,
With nowhere to run, nowhere to go.
Writer’s Block laughed and raised his blade.
“Now ‘tis time to add to the writers I’ve slain!”
It seemed that the Writer’s fate was now sealed
As down came Writer’s Block’s sword, the deathblow to deal.
But suddenly the villain found his stroke stopped,
Much to the surprise of both Writer and Block.
The pen of the Writer, which was still in his grasp,
Miraculously transformed until, at last,
It became not a pen but a sword, shining bright,
That blocked the deathblow and saved the Writer’s life!
For the first time that night, the Writer saw fear and surprise
Replace the anger and cruelty in Writer’s Block’s eyes.
Emboldened by the miracle that had just taken place,
The Writer swung his new sword and his foe dodged away.
And now, at last, the true battle began
And the swords clashed together again and again.
Back and forth the two fought, shadow against light,
Cliché against creative, all through the night.
At last Writer’s Block fell, his dark blade shattered-
Alive, to be sure, but much bruised and battered.
He lay there, defeated, waiting for the sword to come down.
But then he looked up- what was this now?
In his hand the Writer held not a sword but a pen.
He knelt by Writer’s Block and began to write then:
“For the life of a novel, the battle was fought
Between our good Writer and foul Writer’s Block . . .”
And so Writer’s Block died, not by the sword,
But by what’s mightier still, the pen and the word.

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I do feel the need to say one thing before I end this post. This poem wouldn't have happened without Jake of Teenage Writer (and also of the Underground, which is where I met him). His Personification Challenge back in 2011 inspired me to write stories and poems in which Writer's Block is personified. I highly doubt he'll see this, but if he does, thank you, Jake.

Thanks, everyone, for stopping by! 

Garo arad vaer!**

 -Sarah (Leilani Sunblade)

*Greetings, my friends!

**Have a good day!