En-garde fellow poet
who stands with gold pen sword.
Raise thy weapon and duel with me
in bout with words.
My tool be sharp with potent prose.
sonneteer stand is ready to fight

Yes En-garde I say
for be know to slain one with a  mighty song.
And I am Known to gather crowds
who watch many a victory

Un-garde I echo with parry to cut thy thoughts.
With sabre pen sharp with ink red.
Perhaps than you shall bleed
as we will meet upon ground of page.

En--garde you who cast a shadow
of judgment with they eyes
For battle shall commence
on Fields a plenty
And I will win a sun for sure.