My syllables are soldiers, straight
and tethered tightly into words
of thoughtfulness commanding fates.
I weave from sentences my sword
my shining armor and the veils
that hide the chaos of my doubts.
My speech is steel, inside I’m frail
I’m turmoiled, boiling to come out.
The Topic is “order” at dVerse hosted by Laura with inspiration from the poetry of Elizabeth Jennings.
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April 14, 2020
Björn Rudbergs writings 
I love those soldier syllables, Björn, and the wonderful sounds of ‘I’m turmoiled, boiling to come out’
what a marvellous opening – and I like the verb conversion of turmoil! thank you for parading your orders
Steel speech….soldiering on with words….and inside the frailty, the turmoil boiling to come out. Putting on a scene….I think of the phrase, “soldiering on”
I like the description of words and sentences ordered like a protecting army against the chaos of doubt.
Hit me, the sentence in the end “My speech is steel, inside I’m frail
I’m turmoiled, boiling to come out.”. And after that the whole order of the thing hit me twice bound. With words we shape all things, draw the world.
I think for a lot of people orderliness is about anxiety, about remaining in control. You capture that well.
With sword and shining armor and speech of steel, who’d suspect the chaos of doubt and fraility behind the veil. Your poems are always so imaginative!
I appreciate your vulnerability here, Bjorn.
You had me at /the veils that hide the chaos of my doubts/. I have called poets warriors, but yes we are soldiers of oratory as well; a stirring piece.
Fantastic metaphor, I can definitely relate to using ordered words as shining armour. I wonder how often I use my soldiers as cannon fodder in pointless battles though. Thanks for the great poem
The Lonely Recluse
exquisite wordsmithing, self expression is your armour!
The one inside the armour trembles.
Syllables are soldiers – brilliant analogy. Sometimes I think they rule my life 🙂
Love this. The rhyme. The feeling of order and vulnerability.
The words pierce the armor I think. (K)
I really feel that second stanza.
I love the imagery you used here. Despite your armored words, your sensitive soul shines through.
In the boiling the fruits are canned,
In the boiling the soul is want for life
Boiled explosion releases waves of ecstasy
Spreading such steamy love