Poem: Warrior Spirit

Hair black as the raven
Circling the field of bodies below
The first kill was memorable
The thousandth was forgettable

Poem: Lonely Halls with Echos of Plans

In rooms where guests used to congregate in I sit alone
With my thoughts focused on the notable absence of you
Whose angelic voice would fill up these hollow halls with song
Where the people would dance and marvel at the spectacle

Poem: Ode to Joan

La Pucelle de Lorraine born fourteen twelve
In town Domrémy during the Hundred Years War
At age thirteen the three saints appeared to her

From her vision she converted the doubters
Clothed in armor donated by believers
Riding to battle facing the enemy