even longer....
Thanks to those who gave me feedback, I really apreciate it. I made several modifications, so tell me what you think.
The sun rose on armor and swords shone in morning light.
The battle lines were drawn, and sides taken for the fight.
Every man in the hoards knew why he was there.
Some came for the glory, some came from despair.
The tapestry appeared seamless, male against male.
But one fracture stood alone, her hair like a sail.
She was firm, stood her ground, she stepped down for no man.
She stood tall and beautiful, sword in her hand.
She was clever and quick, she had a snakes bight.
Her body was small, but she had a man's might.
Her looks were angelic but her venom was quick,
Her hands looked delicate, but her calluses were thick.
She was picture perfect, but had one fatal vice.
Behind those clear eyes her heart was like ice.
She had no just cause, for her the battle was game.
She fought for her own glory, she fought for her name.
No man had yet to beat her, no army brought her down.
She was cheered in the courts, and adored by the crowned.
This was just another exercise to further raise her stature.
The fight would be quickly won, of this she was quite sure.
At once, the signal was given, the trumpets, they blared.
The soldiers moved forward, their dormant blood flared.
The woman fought calmly, she quickened not her breath.
She moved nimbly and surely, dealing out swift death.
Her movements were fluid, like the steps of a dance.
She swung, bobbed, and weaved without breaking the trance.
She batted not an eye, nor did she flinch.
Her thirst for blood she sought to quench.
She practiced no caution, her heart felt no fear.
She gave swift retribution while moving like a deer.
This battle raged on, for hours on end.
Many held their own, but some failed to defend.
The crashing of metal and the screaming of men,
Filled this once empty, and peaceful green glen.
The soft brown earth had become a volcano of fire.
Spewing its red bile, turning valley to mire.
In the teaming of numbers one could no longer tell
The heroes from cowards in this bloody hot hell.
Our lady fought calmly, she gave not a thought,
To the swiftly waning numbers that fell as she fought.
She viewed all as animals, cattle for slaughter.
No more threat to her that a farmer's young daughter.
In her calculating mind it never occurred,
There could be a ray of light among this heard.
He was younger than her and not much to see,
But he fought with his heart, and he fought for the free.
His heroic passion stirred him to fight.
His love for country was an undying light.
Each time his sword brought death to another,
He mourned within for the loss of a brother.
His tears mixed with sweat, he apologized through his teeth.
Only loyalty to crown had brought him fighting on this heath.
The smells of dead and dying brought his stomach to his throat.
But on the other side, the lady delighted in the remains of the smote.
The fray slowly brought these two combatants nearer.
One with beating heart, one without fear.
What would soon occur neither could see.
They moved without knowledge of what soon would be.
At that very moment the sky parted ways.
The sun showed his face, and distributed his rays.
Upon the young man in his heroic stride,
The sun shone most brightly and remained at his side.
Above our cold woman, however, clouds remained.
From her all warmth and light had been drained.
The prophecy of skies would soon be shown.
When the outcome of battle would come to be known.
Our man and our woman met on the field.
The fighting was furious, such blows they did wield.
But the inevitable happened as sword with body did mesh.
The cold bight of steel met the soft warmth of flesh.
The man stared in disbelief at what he had done.
He saw not that in this one action, the battle was won.
The blood on the grass spelled our lady's fate.
Out spilled her life, out poured her hate.
She lay on the ground, her body was broken.
A curse from her lips was her last living token.
So often she fought, mortality her goal.
Now in battle worn earth rests her mortal soul.
If you returned to this spot in our very day and age,
You would see no trace of the fight that came of two king's rage.
There is but one changed place in the valley's grassy girth.
Where once lay the woman now is but black earth.
No grass has ever grown there since that day of strife.
So poisonous this woman, even in death she ended life.
The sun rose on armor and swords shone in morning light.
The battle lines were drawn, and sides taken for the fight.
Every man in the hoards knew why he was there.
Some came for the glory, some came from despair.
The tapestry appeared seamless, male against male.
But one fracture stood alone, her hair like a sail.
She was firm, stood her ground, she stepped down for no man.
She stood tall and beautiful, sword in her hand.
She was clever and quick, she had a snakes bight.
Her body was small, but she had a man's might.
Her looks were angelic but her venom was quick,
Her hands looked delicate, but her calluses were thick.
She was picture perfect, but had one fatal vice.
Behind those clear eyes her heart was like ice.
She had no just cause, for her the battle was game.
She fought for her own glory, she fought for her name.
No man had yet to beat her, no army brought her down.
She was cheered in the courts, and adored by the crowned.
This was just another exercise to further raise her stature.
The fight would be quickly won, of this she was quite sure.
At once, the signal was given, the trumpets, they blared.
The soldiers moved forward, their dormant blood flared.
The woman fought calmly, she quickened not her breath.
She moved nimbly and surely, dealing out swift death.
Her movements were fluid, like the steps of a dance.
She swung, bobbed, and weaved without breaking the trance.
She batted not an eye, nor did she flinch.
Her thirst for blood she sought to quench.
She practiced no caution, her heart felt no fear.
She gave swift retribution while moving like a deer.
This battle raged on, for hours on end.
Many held their own, but some failed to defend.
The crashing of metal and the screaming of men,
Filled this once empty, and peaceful green glen.
The soft brown earth had become a volcano of fire.
Spewing its red bile, turning valley to mire.
In the teaming of numbers one could no longer tell
The heroes from cowards in this bloody hot hell.
Our lady fought calmly, she gave not a thought,
To the swiftly waning numbers that fell as she fought.
She viewed all as animals, cattle for slaughter.
No more threat to her that a farmer's young daughter.
In her calculating mind it never occurred,
There could be a ray of light among this heard.
He was younger than her and not much to see,
But he fought with his heart, and he fought for the free.
His heroic passion stirred him to fight.
His love for country was an undying light.
Each time his sword brought death to another,
He mourned within for the loss of a brother.
His tears mixed with sweat, he apologized through his teeth.
Only loyalty to crown had brought him fighting on this heath.
The smells of dead and dying brought his stomach to his throat.
But on the other side, the lady delighted in the remains of the smote.
The fray slowly brought these two combatants nearer.
One with beating heart, one without fear.
What would soon occur neither could see.
They moved without knowledge of what soon would be.
At that very moment the sky parted ways.
The sun showed his face, and distributed his rays.
Upon the young man in his heroic stride,
The sun shone most brightly and remained at his side.
Above our cold woman, however, clouds remained.
From her all warmth and light had been drained.
The prophecy of skies would soon be shown.
When the outcome of battle would come to be known.
Our man and our woman met on the field.
The fighting was furious, such blows they did wield.
But the inevitable happened as sword with body did mesh.
The cold bight of steel met the soft warmth of flesh.
The man stared in disbelief at what he had done.
He saw not that in this one action, the battle was won.
The blood on the grass spelled our lady's fate.
Out spilled her life, out poured her hate.
She lay on the ground, her body was broken.
A curse from her lips was her last living token.
So often she fought, mortality her goal.
Now in battle worn earth rests her mortal soul.
If you returned to this spot in our very day and age,
You would see no trace of the fight that came of two king's rage.
There is but one changed place in the valley's grassy girth.
Where once lay the woman now is but black earth.
No grass has ever grown there since that day of strife.
So poisonous this woman, even in death she ended life.