Poetry

Joe Dolce: Four Poems

Jean la Pucelle I was just thirteen, When the voices came to me, I was tending father’s sheep, Down by the village stream. I saw a mighty vision, My head held to the ground. I heard the sound of angels, Some were winged, and some were crowned. My mind received impressions, As angels spoke to me: Daughter of God, now you must go, By your side, I shall be. Raise a Holy Army, Fight a Holy War. The angels, thus, commanded me, And led me to the sword. The light within the spirit of man, Is equal to the light,…

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