Early mornings crisp cool sun illuminates the enemies Armour
His stallions breaths jars the air with snorts of deep anticipation
Thoughts race between victory, defeat, life and finality of death
Survive,
...
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A rousing joust of jest! Lady Sinclair. I actually lost the duel but my loyal scribe, Clavicus, rewrote the ending. Now I appear to have been eaten by wolves! I fear I may be getting a little on in years for these dangerous adventures. But pon my chest, still stuck there you know, a boon.
I still like this poem and Wallace. A symbol of defiance against overwhelming adversity. I am not kind to monarchy as I believe them all to be descended from belligerent thugs. Democracy for all it's faults is less prone to entitlement and more towards merit. I must also convey this pun that has entered my mind just to earth it an get rid of it: Wallace had dreams for all of his life, but none included his head on a pike. Good stuff Deeksie.