Well, I hate to post another blog so close to the last one when I still have so many of my friends and acquaintances reading and rereading the other, but I simply had to get this out of my system. Kellie and I stepped out of the house the other night for some reason that I do not even remember, and I looked up at the sky and said, "Wow! That dragon is eating the moon," and I took several pictures. This one is the best. A couple days later, I looked at the picture and thought, "That picture would make an excellent poem." Within a few minutes, I had the beginning of a pretty decent poem. Over the next few days, I polished it up a bit. I let Kellie read, and she said something a bit paradoxical, something along the lines of, "The poem is like a mature rendering of a nursery rhyme." Of course, she knows her rhythms. The form that I used of alternating iambic tetrameter and trimeter lines makes reading the poem "sing song" if read by any English speaking person. It cannot be helped. And, truthfully, there is no serious philosophical thought being present or expected. Sometimes, it is okay to let poetry be a bit of fun--and a bit old-timey. Enjoy!
A Dragon Eats the Moon
‘Twas evening of a normal day;
The sun had barely set,
The western sky glowed tranquil orange,
The east, more passionate.
The mourning doves had cooed their last
From hidden twiggy beds.
The prating frogs and katydids
Chittered above our heads.
The shadow trees like skeletons
Creaked weirdly in the breeze,
Portending odd occurrences
In their seeming unease.
At last, a peek at the full moon
A beacon on the rise,
Only a splinter mounts the ridge,
But its light fills the skies.
Climbing slowly, the blushing orb
Exposes its full face,
And it is pale for right behind
A dragon’s on the chase.
A monster forged from blackened clouds
With fire for mouth and eye
Pursues the helpless virgin sphere
Across the starless sky.
Urged on by wicked trailing winds,
The beast outstrips the maid.
Trapped in her orbit of the Earth,
Her frailty is displayed.
It gains! It gains! The wyvern’s teeth
Nip at her halo robe.
She flees no more. He swallows her,
The once unsullied globe.
A smug and smoking mouth smiles where
A dreadful tongue had twirled.
The Earth grows dark. A sadness wells.
A hush falls on the world.
What will Man dream without the moon?
What lovers gaze upon?
Will twilight fairies romp and sing
Their lunar maestro gone?
Alas, our nights will all be dark,
Awful, fearful hours,
Without our radiant source and guide
Revealing dire powers.
But, Ho! I see sharp beaming spears
Piercing the villain’s scales.
The demure maid, now huntress fierce,
Her sable foe assails.
Slicing with brilliant rainbow shards,
She flays his scaly hide,
And bursting forth in lustrous beams,
She casts his shade aside.
Now, all alone, pure white as bone,
And mended from the fight,
She rises to her ebon throne
And claims the peaceful night.
The dragon? Where might he have gone
To cast his ghastly shroud?
He has dissolved into the air,
For he was but a cloud.
The night is safe, the sky is clear,
The morning’s far ahead,
The fairies hurry to their ring,
And you and I to bed.
Yes, you and I are off to sleep,
The human situation,
Where we may more adventures share
In imagination.
Here is a close up of the picture above.
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