"Blades"

I am the sword of the Samurai,
Lovingly sharpened , honed,
Polished by skilled craftsman’s hands.
Some talk of thirsty blades,
But we are indifferent to flesh.
Though flesh is unwise to cross us!

I am the Cavalry Sabre,
Sharpened on the mobile whetstone,
Every unit carries, before battle.
I am the pike and the bayonet,
The shining spear point blade,
Winking in the sun and air.

I am myriads of knives
Fighting, hunting, whittling
Cooking but seldom "Flick".
Invariably an inferior tool,
Made from suspect steel.
And wielded by fools.

I am the carpenters chisel.
Honed bright on Arkansas Stone,
And leather or canvas strop.
Handle polished smooth with use,
Fit to pare wood thinner than a whisker
Worthy of the hand of a Saviour.

I am the surgeons scalpel,
Razor sharp, stainless,
Used only once.
And I am millions of razors,
Open, safety, twin, three, four, five
Bladed and disposable.

Scraping daily at men’s chins
And ladies legs, etcetera.
I am carbon enriched steel
Danish, Solingen, Damascus.
Forged in the white heat
Of the furnace glare.

I am Scorpio personified,
As good or evil as he who uses it,
As constructive or destructive,
The Sharp Cutting Edge.

Copyright © Res JFB 26rh March 2008