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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Serpentsdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: DeadGod
    ASL Info:    20/M/OR
    Elite Ratio:    3.22 - 61/103/31
    Words: 586
    Class/Type: Poetry/Political
    Total Views: 896
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 3874



    Description:
       This is the classic story of a lone knight fighting a dragon, except it takes a slightly different view on it. I wrote this about 5 years ago, so some of it is a bit lacking in flow, I think.

    Regardless, this is a good political commentary on the way we think as humans. It pertains to current US foreign policy, and is a decent standalone fantasy piece.

    Enjoy.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsSerpentsdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Smell the air, its presence holds a sense of dread.
    The rising sun doth stain the clouds, a brilliant red
    A silence now leaves all forlorn
    And wondering, but seems to warn,
    Of a loud, chaotic storm,
    To wake the dead.

    Now look upon the meadow fair, and lively
    Pink flowers clash against blue sky, with rivalry
    And laughing there among the weeds,
    A sunlit stream with stalks of reeds,
    Away, into a cave it leads,
    Entirely.

    Now riding comes the hero brave, from tales of lore,
    He gallops, then dismounts his horse, and kneels before,
    The stream. He stops to wet his face,
    And stares into the darkened space
    Of cave. His heart-beat skips a pace,
    Then rushing, roars.

    Inside the cave, a sleeping beast peacefully lies
    Unconcious, so it cannot see, or realize,
    This hero bold, this hero brave,
    Disturbing sanctity of cave,
    Who on a mission sad and grave,
    Sweeps past his eyes.

    The low-pitched squeak of armor wakes the wing'ed wyrm,
    One scaled eyelid lifts a crack, the scene is learned;
    The soldier kneels to ask his Lord
    For courage. With a final word,
    He stands and draws his gleaming sword,
    His fear returns.

    The giant lizard bucks and roars, and hero flees,
    As dragon takes pursuit, a rustling, gentle breeze,
    Sweeps the faces of the stones,
    Sets the combats' dreary tone,
    And leaves two hunters all alone,
    Among the trees.

    The fiery rage of Dragon turns the Earth to ash,
    As elements combine and strike, their standards flash,
    The knight seeks shelter from a rock,
    As flames sweep by, and coldly talk
    Of death. The knight creeps out to stalk,
    A sporting dash.

    The dragon smells the summer air with just disdain,
    It's rife with the confusing scents of morning rain,
    The shadows hide a stretching bow,
    The arrow sings to just below,
    The wing. The dragon feels the blow,
    A piercing pain.

    As roundabout the monster turns into the shade,
    His eyes meet with the figure's who has drawn his blade,
    A moment then of mortal breath,
    And then outpours the fiery death,
    The knight is gone,the lizard left,
    There on the glade.

    The serpent makes a mournful and yet desperate call,
    The open wound is pouring blood like leaves in fall,
    A gasping thrash for Earthen air,
    And then a silent, glassy glare,
    A quiet statue lying there,
    Great, gaunt and tall.

    And now the orange shimmer of the setting sun,
    Shows just how much the duel of taloned death has done,
    A forest which was full of green,
    Shows black and red upon the scene,
    Blood and cinders dot the dream,
    It's glory gone.

    And far upon the westward ridge a minstrel stands,
    The ink-tipped quill is busy in his shaking hands,
    "The deed is done", the message states.
    A single tear falls down to grace
    The parchment, and to seal {with lace}
    The graceful hand.

    He mounts his horse, and off he rides, but wonders still,
    For do we kill to live or do we live to kill?
    For is it noble to destroy
    All things that might disrupt our joy?
    "Perhaps we are the serpents" ploys
    The poet's will.

    And as the darkness overbears the dimming dusk,
    He laughs into his cloak. His horse still stirs the dust,
    The scene of battle isnt done,
    No side has lost, no side has won,
    He gallops off to meet the dawn;
    With human lust.




    Submitted on 2005-04-08 00:33:50     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




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