WELCOME!

Greetings, readers, and welcome to The Worlds of Nathan Marchand! Don’t know who I am? Read my biography.

After a week of construction, my site is worthy of unveiling. Below this entry you will find three of my poems. If you’d like to read some of my short stories, click here. I don’t have many works posted right now, so please be patient.

I hope to have a synopsis of my upcoming novel, Pandora’s Box, posted soon, as well as its first chapter. Once I coordinate things with the publisher, that all should fall into place.

I will also use this site to announce any appearances I plan to make, book signings I hold,  writers’ conferences I attend, and/or other news. So, be sure to check back often to see what’s up and what’s going down!

I intend to keep working on the site, so I would love to hear what you think of it. Any suggestions on how to improve the site would be much appreciated.

For now, enjoy my site! Feel free to explore.

Valor’s Heart

Valor’s Heart
by Nathan Marchand

Endure! Endure!
Though burning arrows pierce my chest,
Poisoned swords cut my side,
And traitors’ knives stab my back.
Yet will my Valor’s Heart,
a gift of my King,
Fight on.

Hold the line! Hold the line!
Let not the Enemy advance
To steal, kill, and destroy!
I hold back the black torrent
As red rain pelts my face.
He shall not pass so long
As my Valor’s Heart beats.

I fall! I fall!
To my knees, sword in hand,
Stained with my crimson life-blood
Mingled with my Foe’s black blood.
My strength is spent, my time has come
To exit this stormy stage.

The Enemy laughs as his
black sword plunges into my chest
But though he slays me
My Valor’s Heart still boom-boom-booms
Like a war drum drowning the battle’s thunder,
Summoning my King’s warriors to the line,
the Enemy of my Soul shuttering at their battlecry.

Rest now, rest.
I return to my King
But Death has lost his victory,
His sting is dull.
And my Valor’s Heart,
a gift of my King,
Still rallies His warriors
’round its thunder.

Coma

Coma
by Nathan Marchand

I lie upon a deathbed,
My life-thread pulled taut against
The edge of the Fates’ knife.
Scorned by the hellcats and scoundrels
Who beat me and left me to die,
I cling to life thanks only to
The brave and persecuted few
Who still love me.                   
I am Chivalry,
And I am not dead, but asleep.