Winterheld huntress

Winter held the dew of spring

The fountain of life so abundant and clear

The creatures that dwell upon the earth

Feast on the beauty below its soil

A nimble soul, Lilly of the valley, wanders though the snow

Senses sharp, and heart beating fast

She hunts her prey with an elven glow

The sacrifice of life, run rampant through the soil

Blood stains the snow like a velvet elixir

She harvests the skin and leaves nerry’ a bone

Glistening in the winter night,

moonbeams caress her pale ivory skin

Clad with bow, dagger and thick fur cloth.

New dawn, new spring ,new life does it bring

The elven huntress ravages the bounty of’ goddess’ harvest land

Bringing to the king, new treasures and bounty

To be traded, bought, eaten and sold.

Ner’ does her eyes leave the hunt, her soul runs with the beasts

No dress, upbringing, nor teaching will change her

Like the circle of life she stands

Ever changing but still the same

A huntress upon sovereign land,

the winter winds hold the dew of spring

A new future, More to plunder, more meaning to her life

The huntress whose heart beats with the night.

(C) Danielle Parrish, 2017


The morrow’ days dawn

( to the tune of a Celtic, or folk hymn…. 1-2-3- 1,2,345 [timing structure]

it’s a call to war type of song, so imagine lord of the rings meets dragon age.)

A.N: Somewhat edited, but needs more work.


Ner is a sound as lovely or clear

Than sounds of war, drawing ever near

Oppression and suffrage for a selfish king

No place, no right for his people we sing…

We sing to the dawn, the day break decider,

The battle begins over, castles’ spire.

We fasten our arrows, taupe to the bowstring

Sharpening swords, hammers and knives

To, city square, we preside,…in waiting

Waiting for twilight sky,

to mask us in the shadow of night

To aid us in our battle and plight

the township prepare for a night filled with bloodshed,

Our hearts filled with vengeance and pride

The war to end, centuries of suffrage,

The end of a life filed with lies.

Fly straight and true o’ my arrow, Pearce the heart of the king

Let all who oppose him plunder’ his riches,

But leave his death painful and slow, at my hand, arrow and bow.

“the king, the king, the ruler unfair

Down with the king, and family there.”

We break through the halls, paint blood to the walls

As we sing this song of, the morrow’ days dawn.

As we sing to the morrow days dawn.

(C) Danielle Parrish, 2017