Poems Submitted by Our Readers

There is no honor in an unfair fight,
There is no pleasure in inflicting pain.
I stand upon the dueling field this night
Not for honor's sake, but my own gain.

It's block, and thrust, and parry, cut, and wheel,
It's balance, wrist, and eye, and arm, and breath.
It's music of well-honed and tempered steel --
It's what we call the duelists dance of death.

With ease, I smash my enemy's defense.
My blade is at his heart! Now he will pay!
Yet somehow, somehow, I retain the sense
To sheath my sword and turn and walk away.

     And thus am damned to spend these coming years
     With shouts of "Coward!" ringing in my ears.

Geoff Avalon