Behold! A poet, the master of words!
Beware! A warrior, the master of swords!
A battle fought with pen and blade,
Bloody slaughter, wounds are made.
Emotional, physical, each taking its piece.
When will it end? When comes eternal peace?
Fluent in spoken lines and dutifully striking enemies down,
Why does this make the warrior poet frown?
Ah, I see, she sees no need to kill,
As she writes, she sits by the windowsill.
Why call her a warrior if no blood is spilled?
Why call her a swordsman is no one is killed?
You are mistaken, my friend don't you see?
She's a Warrior for God, defending Christains like me.
Do not snicker, or torment her tirelessly, she will not stop.
She will hold up her Bible, above her head, above her top.
See to it that she writes freely, sings beautifully, and fights to the end.
But, ah! This is not so! Listen and hear the second coming approaching, my friend!
Author Unknown
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My Poems and Other Things...~
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