Short St George Poems

Four games in,
we don't concede,
we beat the Germans, 
we believe, 
history holds misery,
this new breed 
bring victory. 

St. George cross flying high,
We're England til we die...

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Inside the season
behind a warehouse
the wind got away
The cause was dark
beyond those trees


I rode away
I saw the moon block out the sky
Facing eastern winds
I sought the harvesters
meshing an epiphany for St George...

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A dragon is not a dinosaur.
Those reptiles do not live anymore.
Saint George was a liar.
Dragons do not breathe fire.
That was all a product of folklore.

They’re extinct reptiles.
Larger than the ones today.
Dinosaurs are gone....

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 Coruscating Fire, Wielding Shields Of Knights
 Brandishing Spears Sacred as Light,
 Crusading Upright St.George Like
 Into Fields Of Destiny with Steeds Of Epic Flight,
 Chasing Legends
 Dicing and Slashing, Full Speed In Gleaming Sabatons...

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Soon plan B will be presided
and the skies will cry
Is there some cause
to be opined

The fallow fields
on a horses meadow
with her Foals
presides over a warm spring


Lost promises by the trees
although with the beast lurking
St George he tried
to avenge the haunting...

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armed with lance and shield
embarks on ivory steed
approaches sanctum

nemesis sighted
embroiled in bloody battle
vicious creature slain

bestowed with honour
patron saint of a nation
commemorated

-------------------------

(C) John C Michaels, April 23rd 2017...

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Dragon
Uther of the dragon pen
Sought Merlins advice
How to kill the dragon then
St George had done it thrice
The magic lance the sword of steel
The arrow poisoned too
To starve her from a cattle meal
To pierce her through and through
Harald one eye came to beg
What reward would Uther post
Dark of night broke Dragon egg
Till Zinnger was a ghost
Don Johnson...

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Even dragons dream
Thirsting for the gleam 
Of a maiden’s green, green eye,
Preferably with some
Brave fool knight who’ll come
Trying to save her, or else die;
“St. George, St. George,” the warrior’s cry.

Dragons need the thrill
Of a knight’s fierce skill,
Thrusting lance, and flashing spur;
Otherwise, how dull,
Munching on the skull
Of some luckless traveler:
Dragons dream of days that were....

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Even dragons dream
Thirsting for the gleam 
Of a maiden’s green, green eye,
Preferably with some
Brave fool knight who’ll come
Trying to save her, or else die;
“St. George, St. George,” the warrior’s cry.

Dragons need the thrill
Of a knight’s fierce skill,
Thrusting lance, and flashing spur;
Otherwise, how dull,
Munching on the skull
Of some luckless traveler:
Dragons dream of days that were....

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Young couple walking down the dark, empty street, a little freaked out by the aggressive 
blackness of the night.  It crowds around, silently snarling.

Suddenly, a flash of movement.  There was just time to wonder what the hell was THAT, 
when the world becomes a sharp, painful blur.  Scales blending with dagger teeth, a 
nightmare in green.  Blood, festive red, gleaming on the pavement.

Guess St. George didn't get ALL the dragons.........

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George faced the two ships of splendorous light 
Entreated, and vowed to shatter the false gods 
Openly soldiering on, through Christ’s name 
Rome, heard this bright name and brought their wheel of swords 
George even climbed up their ladder of knives  
Enduring this, his crimson cross now shines high 


Partly inspired by the "Incantation of St. George" from the medieval Chinese text "On the Xiapu Ritual Manual Mani the Buddha of Light"
...

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