Dragons don't cry, nor laugh-- not that they can't!
It's just exhausting, to accumulate
Years, wisdom, and gold: emotion they slant.
For all their beating wings, their heart runs cold.
To love, fiery? No. To mourn unto tears?
Again, no, they don't. And having lost love,
Laughter too is gone. Have you heard echoes,
Arumble in the canyons? Fierce laughter?
Dragons do not cry. They are too old, tired.
So let the ocean salt the wounds you bear,
And let your madness mount the dragon, ere
You see the dawn and dusk, the cloudy draw.
Soar, winged emotion, drown sorrow in tears.
But be not dragon, for whom the cold heart
Beats without laughter, tears of joy, nor grief,
Lives uncounted eons, born nether shadow,
Without connection, regret, love, nor loss.
No.
Laugh with the spring rain, Sorrow over loss,
And most of all, love. Love with tempest tears
Grieve with your short years, and be not dragon.
I can’t believe I once believed
that dragons could shed tears—
a time when my mind was robed
in the fragile cloth of childhood.
I wandered alleys where clouds bent low,
pressing their weight upon my skull.
Shadows snapped at my heels like starving dogs,
my heart swung loose inside my throat.
The tremor in my boots chained me still,
and every thought I birthed became a phantom,
scrawled in the dark, painted across the sky.
Those years were lived in trembles and fears,
each night a prayer for the ocean to come,
to wash me clean of figures
that crouched in corners,
that flickered like mirages where light bled thin.
How did those faces dissolve,
slipping from cloudbanks and corridors of shade?
How did they crawl out of my mind,
leaving silence where terror once nested?
Why was the darkness that devoured me then
locked away as a riddle,
a secret even I cannot untangle?
And those I asked only mirrored my silence.
Some still breathe the same trembling air—
fears childhood carved deep,
fears adulthood disguised.
But new specters gather around me now,
pressing their weight like tides unseen,
and once more I beg the ocean:
take me under, strip me clean.
I love the strange world of fantasy
where IMAGINATION is the star
and WHIMSY provides a canopy
as weird creatures fly in from afar
Dungeons, dragons, a Lady, a Lord
and sybils who DREAM all but tell less
VISUALIZATION colors words
purple, red, gold, darkness is the dress
Please don't say it's HALLUCINATION
MY REVERIE is true as the moon
I have known a few purple dragons
and I'm having lunch with two at noon
When and how
did we see chivalry last
or is it now
a thing of the past
and honour among thieves
is no honour at all
while beating my brains
against the wall
besting the dragons
at City Hall
am I wrong in thinking
it's my fight
or am I errant
as a roving knight
exhibiting gallantry
within a crowd
of apathy
indifferent
to the powers that be
outnumbered and outgunned
Sancho when needed oh where is he?
With apologies to Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (1547 – 1616)
'Write Thirteen Beautiful Lines' Poetry Contest: Sponsored by Constance La France (April/May 2025).
Where hills are alive
with imagination
carried by clouds
toward their destination
Lakeland fells and sheep
Liverpool of cormorants
Wales with its dragons
Yorkshire and terrier dogs
in Lancashire towns
of redbrick and cobbled folk
who worked with bare hands
to build a much better world
beneath these beautiful skies.
Dragons, fearless and bold/
Creatures of legend/
The perfection of fearlessness/
High and mighty/
Their eyes piercing and cold/
Breaths of fire, tales of power told/
Soaring to heights undreamt by man/
The most powerful in existence, they reign/
It was awe inspiring/
When Satan transformed into a Dragon/
His true form adorned/
Majestic and fierce/
Kings of the skies/
With scales of armor/
And wings that rise/
They are the true rulers/
The beings of lore/
In their presence/
I love them even more/
I thought, back then,
that what I felt for her was love.
Jack said it was just lust
and certainly nothing less.
He had a point, she stank
of pure pheromonal passions,
Together we had an alchemy of ardor
and odor.
We grappled at sultry flesh
and made it speak.
There were no soft whispers,
howls and growls
were our feverish cravings
our furious devotions.
Jack said:
he could hear us thrashing together
clear across town,
that we were always on fire.
Even strangers saw us
through a blood red sexual prism,
their eyes darkening
as erotic dragons danced before them.
Jack was a bit of a poet.
I was simply a raging animal
caught in a love net,
but of course,
Jack already knew that.
Slaying dragons
I sat in my den, trying to compose a poem
which is not easy for a pretender
a scream from the living room, she heard
something in the kitchen and sent me there
to slay the dragon
I found a tiny mouse, knocking over
an empty plastic bottle of water
I picked up the mouse it was surpassingly
supine, sniffed at my hand, since we
live on the seventh floor, it must have had
a long clime
I did what every brave man would do,
left the mouse in the hallway
I heard a scream from the sixth floor
a new hero was called for, I hope he didn't
kill the tiny traveler
droll dragon’s drastic dragnet drizzles droopily
dreaming drones drudge dripping drops of drizzle
dredging and drenching dragon’s drastic dragnet
droll dromedary drives drooping dragnet’s drums
Warning said her mother, if you are kind to dragons
they will never leave
This is exactly what Cindy wanted to hear
Because she wanted to keep her dragons
Her mother’s dragons had been gone for way too long
if you asked her….
beautiful creatures
dangerous if confronted
stay away from beach
The roll of the waves hides the arcs of their backs.
The shoal of porpoises are feeding on squid.
Feasting amongst them on cephalopod snacks
Are green-scaled dragons that choose to be hid.
They hide from whalers and their brutal harpoons,
While they stay in the ocean for most of life's times,
Except times when they roam the nearby sand dunes
To covet Marsh Radishes and the wild limes.
These dragons don't fly, since they're aquatic sorts.
Like Nessie in Scotland, they wish to be free.
Some people catch a glimpse, and some hear a snort,
But rarely, since mostly they're way out to sea.
Today I’m thankful for dragons:
For showing me the wonder of magic and fairy tales…
because, when I think back I am still amazed…and proud…
remembering the first day I experienced that magic…
when I saw a dragon in a cloud.
Then of a time no mortals be
Rose serpents from a salty sea
Both sword and shield they took in hand
To battle gods upon the land
Headlong they rushed without a thought
And staged the wars in which they fought
Their purpose theirs and theirs alone
To rule the world upon a throne
For eons both the mighty clashed
As dragons fired and lightning flashed
No force could stem their will to win
When one would fall one rose again
But finally the war curtailed
And in the end the gods prevailed
Expelling both desire and flame
Back to the deep from whence they came
crone control your dragon dragging it's claw
crone your claw dragging too… dragons two
both of you, yes, you anger it's fire to flame
crone soothe your dragon its deep scaly skin
crone your scaly skin too… soothing dragons
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