Poems
Dragon Wings
He moves on dragon wings
flying silently we don't hear
nor see
nor think him there
he is and as he does
slowly
ever slowly
do we rise
reaching for what he has
what he is
will be
ever reaching
for his flaming breath and
the soothing beat of his wings
Jessica
Fantasy
The trees that grow and winds that blew, and suns that always shone,
This land so broad and beautiful is where I layed my home.
My life I spent seems rich and pure to where my life has led,
I still so long for life beyond to see what lies ahead.
I dream of life and love that fills my mind in every thought,
To go beyond imagining, to flee from what�s been taught.
I believe that somewhere far away, or maybe just right here
There�s a place for ones whose thoughts are whole, and dreams are
crystal clear.
A place of magic and imagination, for things that aren�t believed.
Where once a dream was lost; forgotten, and here they are achieved.
And here I live my life to full, and dream my dreams with you.
Because it�s here where magic lives, and you believe it too.
Penny Munoz
The Somnolent Dragon
Fire flying from toothsome mouth,
Green scales clanging like great cymbals,
I face my foe with roaring courage
And stand my ground though death awaits.
The screaming maiden wrapped in my tail
Screeches her curses and calls her heroe.
His answering call is strong and gallant.
His gleaming armour blinds my eyes.
With levelled lance and swinging mallet,
He thunders toward me to save his lady;
And as I stand my ground so boldly,
His point comes closer...closer...closer...
Then all at once this visage vanished.
My alarm-clock blared, the radio sang.
Reprieved this morning, my alter ego
Will fight again when sleep brings another dream.
Deborah Penny
Myths Made Real
Watching you, over me
Eyes heavy-lidded, vibrant with lust and magic
Sweat trickling over our skin
like raindrops rolling down a clear pane of glass
Locked into primordial rhythms
more eloquent than words could ever be
Staring into your eyes,
Glorious fire, raging,
painful in its splendor
Clasped together, bound inexorably like thunder to lightning
Stretching the moment
beyond all concept of time,
Spinning headlong through light-years of passion
In a single beat of the heart.
Watching you, over me,
Marking the bright light of your love
streaming through the stained-glass blue of your eyes,
Face contorting in the sweet grimace of release,
And I marvel at those giddy, childlike notions
I once had
of what lovemaking would be,
Trampled and sullied by sad years and poor choices
into simple romantic twaddle,
And yet,
here they are, emerging,
half-believed fairy tales,
Dragons breathing fire,
Myths made real.
Carolyn McDonald
Sleeping Dragon
Ah, love, the days that stretch between us
lie dormant, bereft of motion,
exhibiting the barest whisper of breath, like a dragon who sleeps
for a hundred years ...
Coiled still and dreamless,
a massive hulk of bleak hours,
splayed across the chill stone floor, cold skin,
and echoed, silent cries resounding for the touch of your warmth.
These black days curl like talons, hard,
thick scales of armor around my heart, guarding it
from the wicked swords of empty nights
and days without dreams,
sharp enough to pierce the heavy hide
and draw blood, straight from the heart.
But, like the dragon, the promise of reawakening
fuels our love, keeps us breathing in this twilight hibernation,
and soon we will stretch sleepily in the dark stillness,
golden eyes blinking into awareness, rich with magic,
And our mighty wings will unfurl
and touch one another across the starlit night
and, crying out to life, we will spring upward,
one single, powerful thrust of muscled legs, sending us soaring
into the sun.
Carolyn McDonald
The Sun upon the blooming Moors
and gentle rain to kiss the Earth
and heather touched by whispering winds
to bless the place that knew our birth.
Emerald green the bards tale tells
of lovers met on misty hills
of days of joy with Gods they serve
and nights abound with earthly thrills
Lovers met and love was found
in service and in each other
and life was full and life was good
and every man a brother
Then, from the east the darkness came
to rip their lives asunder
The flashing blades, like lightning came
to the sound of distant thunder
The years have passed, the land has healed
and loves have come and faded
With some, was good - with some, was bad
with some, was naught but jaded.
But I have faith she will return
in this life or the next
And so this story has no end,
no finish to this text!
Doc Nettles
Dragon Wings
He moves on dragon wings
flying silently we don't hear
nor see
nor think him there
he is and as he does
slowly
ever slowly
do we rise
reaching for what he has
what he is
will be
ever reaching
for his flaming breath and
the soothing beat of his wings
Jessica
Fantasy
The trees that grow and winds that blew, and suns that always shone,
This land so broad and beautiful is where I layed my home.
My life I spent seems rich and pure to where my life has led,
I still so long for life beyond to see what lies ahead.
I dream of life and love that fills my mind in every thought,
To go beyond imagining, to flee from what�s been taught.
I believe that somewhere far away, or maybe just right here
There�s a place for ones whose thoughts are whole, and dreams are
crystal clear.
A place of magic and imagination, for things that aren�t believed.
Where once a dream was lost; forgotten, and here they are achieved.
And here I live my life to full, and dream my dreams with you.
Because it�s here where magic lives, and you believe it too.
Penny Munoz
The Somnolent Dragon
Fire flying from toothsome mouth,
Green scales clanging like great cymbals,
I face my foe with roaring courage
And stand my ground though death awaits.
The screaming maiden wrapped in my tail
Screeches her curses and calls her heroe.
His answering call is strong and gallant.
His gleaming armour blinds my eyes.
With levelled lance and swinging mallet,
He thunders toward me to save his lady;
And as I stand my ground so boldly,
His point comes closer...closer...closer...
Then all at once this visage vanished.
My alarm-clock blared, the radio sang.
Reprieved this morning, my alter ego
Will fight again when sleep brings another dream.
Deborah Penny
Myths Made Real
Watching you, over me
Eyes heavy-lidded, vibrant with lust and magic
Sweat trickling over our skin
like raindrops rolling down a clear pane of glass
Locked into primordial rhythms
more eloquent than words could ever be
Staring into your eyes,
Glorious fire, raging,
painful in its splendor
Clasped together, bound inexorably like thunder to lightning
Stretching the moment
beyond all concept of time,
Spinning headlong through light-years of passion
In a single beat of the heart.
Watching you, over me,
Marking the bright light of your love
streaming through the stained-glass blue of your eyes,
Face contorting in the sweet grimace of release,
And I marvel at those giddy, childlike notions
I once had
of what lovemaking would be,
Trampled and sullied by sad years and poor choices
into simple romantic twaddle,
And yet,
here they are, emerging,
half-believed fairy tales,
Dragons breathing fire,
Myths made real.
Carolyn McDonald
Sleeping Dragon
Ah, love, the days that stretch between us
lie dormant, bereft of motion,
exhibiting the barest whisper of breath, like a dragon who sleeps
for a hundred years ...
Coiled still and dreamless,
a massive hulk of bleak hours,
splayed across the chill stone floor, cold skin,
and echoed, silent cries resounding for the touch of your warmth.
These black days curl like talons, hard,
thick scales of armor around my heart, guarding it
from the wicked swords of empty nights
and days without dreams,
sharp enough to pierce the heavy hide
and draw blood, straight from the heart.
But, like the dragon, the promise of reawakening
fuels our love, keeps us breathing in this twilight hibernation,
and soon we will stretch sleepily in the dark stillness,
golden eyes blinking into awareness, rich with magic,
And our mighty wings will unfurl
and touch one another across the starlit night
and, crying out to life, we will spring upward,
one single, powerful thrust of muscled legs, sending us soaring
into the sun.
Carolyn McDonald
The Sun upon the blooming Moors
and gentle rain to kiss the Earth
and heather touched by whispering winds
to bless the place that knew our birth.
Emerald green the bards tale tells
of lovers met on misty hills
of days of joy with Gods they serve
and nights abound with earthly thrills
Lovers met and love was found
in service and in each other
and life was full and life was good
and every man a brother
Then, from the east the darkness came
to rip their lives asunder
The flashing blades, like lightning came
to the sound of distant thunder
The years have passed, the land has healed
and loves have come and faded
With some, was good - with some, was bad
with some, was naught but jaded.
But I have faith she will return
in this life or the next
And so this story has no end,
no finish to this text!
Doc Nettles