Notes About The Poem
image from dragonlancenexus.com
This poem written for and submitted to “A Draconian State” poetry contest, Sara Jama, sponsor, September 2, 2025.
DRACONIAN STATE
DRACONIAN STATE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER ONE
the city breathes dust and ash~
a lung collapsing with draconian dragon’s roar,
his fiery breath painting the sky bruised purple.
they huddle in the ruins, clinging to shadows~
colors have fled, replaced by monochromatic fear
and the grey of crumbling, decaying stone.
CHAPTER TWO
each day, the park,
a green island in a concrete ocean,
beckons him.
Arthur shuffles, a slow dance with age,
past faces averted,
too busy to notice him.
his hands, gnarled branches,
embrace his flute,
a silent rebellion against the forgetting.
he breathes life into his flute,
playing melodies of memories
but only for the pigeons and the passing feet.
CHAPTER THREE
Elara, a wisp in tattered lace,
a ghost among the forgotten swings,
stops.
she watches him, unseen, unheard,
her eyes wide, reflecting the nascent stars,
finding a solace she cannot name.
there, bathed in the streetlamp’s sickly glow,
she embraces the music, a sorrowful lament for lost things,
for memories buried beneath the draconian dust.
“Draconian dragons,” she was told,
“were the end of song, the death of laughter,
the demise of memories—devourers of hope and dreams.”
CHAPTER FOUR
standing a few feet from the music, Elara's mind drifts,
caught between terror and hope,
wondering, “can Arthur’s fragile tune melt the dragon’s winter?”
she closes her eyes; lost in a world she remembers, one she yearns for;
hope, a rusty hinge, creaks open in her chest~
a forgotten door to a garden where seedlings still grow.
CHAPTER FIVE
their eyes meet; the music holds them
suspending them between today’s sorrow
and tomorrow’s fragile hopes.
then a smile, a crack in the old man’s stoic façade
and his flute, offered like a whispered secret,
is passed from trembling hand to trembling hand.
“You have the heart of a musician,” Arthur says.
“Take this flute and play it.
Don’t let the draconian darkness silence you.”
CHAPTER SIX
She tucks the flute inside her coat, and walks home,
the streets, a hushed throat, dark and tight~
she moves through the smog, oppression clinging to her
threadbare coat.
at her front door, a pause, a ghost of a memory appears:
three years passed, her world once draped in velvet quiet
sunlight painting the cobblestones gold.
“Time’s a thief,” she thinks, slipping inside~
she sheds the coat, a flimsy shield
against the draconian wind, the ever-present cold.
FINALE
Elara removes the flute; from memory she plays a tune,
each note a hesitant, mournful prayer~
a gentle song breaking the silence, one draped in warmth and hope.
*Note: “A draconian state refers to a government or regime that enforces extremely harsh laws and punishments, often beyond what is considered reasonable or just. The term originates from Draco, an ancient Athenian lawmaker known for implementing severe laws, where even minor offenses could result in death penalties.” (source Wikipedia.com)
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