Dragons
Dragons are fabled beasts of myth and lore;
and yet, some say they lived in the far past.
And they were noble creatures at their core;
or so said every mage I've ever asked.
They slept on every treasure they'd amassed,
and those hoards were oft-rumored to be vast.
They were adept at soaring silently
on magnificent wings, masters of flight.
And yet, Man treated them violently;
their beheading, the quest of every knight.
And thus, they were hunted and killed on sight;
until no more creatures were left to fight.
St. George once slue a dragon in England;
and He's still renowned for it to this day.
The last of dragon kind, killed by Man's hand,
was a leviathan of silver-grey
that once flew the skies of ancient Cathay;
only to be speared and left to decay.
Though long extinct, destroyed by greed and fear,
dragons were both magical and austere.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment