An epic poem of one and two syllable words. Adapted from my published story Soul Gem.
The Lady and the Dragon
In the mountains, far and lonely,
Stands a tribe of ancient trees.
In its shadows, dank and foggy,
Wanders a brook of magic water.
In the lake, blue and icy,
Lies a trove of gleaming gems.
In their shining, bright and sparky,
Forms a spell of vengeful power.
In the shallows, black and grainy,
Stands a lady robed in white.
From her eyes, sad and empty,
Flows a stream of endless tears.
In the depths, still and pebbly,
Sleeps a dragon scaled in green.
In its mind, bored and hungry,
Runs a dream of broken chains.
Within its ears, huge and pointy,
Rings a bell of sudden danger.
As the tears, human and salty,
Play a note of foiled revenge.
With a grin, sly and curvy,
Awakes the serpent plan in hand.
For the lady, forlorn and dreary,
Shows a final path away.
From the surface, wild and frothy,
Bursts the dragon full of joy,
With a swoosh, urgent and hasty,
Shields the lady from any harm.
From the sky, dark and cloudy,
Rains a shower of icy knives.
For a wizard, wise and crafty,
Forebode a lady's reckless help.
In its eyes, gold and inky,
Sways a hope of blazing ice.
Pleads the dragon, soft and keenly,
Help me break this prison spell.
In her soul, deep and holy,
Shines a gem of guilt and sorrow.
Says the lady, true and strongly,
Help me avenge my murdered kin.
With a sense, born and hoary,
Sees the gem of wretched fire.
In its core, primal and needy,
Covets her soul for its treasure.
From the ether, stark and eerie,
Gathers a power of fatal birth.
Through its body, long and scaly,
Streams a spell to shrink the serpent.
Into a vortex, turbid and stormy,
Drops the dragon into time.
From the past, clear and truly,
Reads a tale of evil malice.
In a castle, high and mighty,
Appears a lord clad in silk.
With a clap, strong and brashy
Summons men armed with steel.
In a room, bright and airy,
Sit two men, father and son.
With a swish, smooth and swiftly
Blades are drawn to slice and kill.
Along a river, swollen and muddy,
Squats a symbol of the law.
With a scowl, deep and angry,
Inspects two bodies on the bank.
At an entrance, humble and tiny,
Stands the lawman, tall and grim.
In a voice, soft and gently,
Informs the lady of their end.
In a graveyard, still and shady,
Kneels the lady hands in dirt.
In a whisper, stark and clearly,
Pledges them harsh revenge.
Along an alley, dark and scanty,
Walks a killer clad in black.
With a hand, calloused and dirty,
Grabs a package with his fee.
With a rope, hooked and sturdy,
Climbs the ninja onto the wall,
With his eyes, sharp and shifty,
Judges all is good and safe.
A lone sentry, young and wary,
Hears the footsteps on the wall.
As they fade, farther and safely,
Goes to alert the manor guards.
Into the garden, unkempt and weedy,
Moves the ninja among bamboo.
As he slides, soundless and deftly,
Unknown to him a trap is laid.
Into the open, moonless and starry,
Steps the ninja like a shadow.
On he glides, dark and ghostly,
Toward the manor of the lord.
With a yell, strident and chilly,
Raging guards in challenge charge.
As he curses, loud and hotly.
Prepares the ninja his escape.
With a motion, quick and stealthy,
Flings the ninja stars of steel.
As they reel, wounded and bloody,
Conjures smoke into their midst.
Up the vortex, turbid and stormy,
Rises the dragon into time.
Says the dragon, short and simply,
I can find and slay the lord.
In her heart, broken and wispy,
Hope for vengeance bursts alive.
Begs the lady, quick and purely,
Tell me how to break the spell.
In its veins, cold and steely,
Hope for freedom streams anew.
Replies the dragon, rough and rudely,
Let me be upon your back.
As she nods, fearful and bravely,
The dragon crowds atom to atom.
As it sinks, warm and deeply,
Scales are inked upon her back.
Under the moon, pale and shiny,
The lady dreams to rouse her knight.
Among the trees, old and knobby,
Weaves the dragon on its quest.
Over the ramparts, wide and stony,
Slides with languor the serpent green.
With a breath, gray and ashy,
Beams and flesh are put aflame.
Into the courtyard, ruined and crumbly,
Appears the lord gun in hand.
With an aim, true and steady,
Fires the bullet at the dragon.
Into the serpent, cold and frosty,
Speeds the bullet churning air.
In a giggle, long and madly,
Disdains the dragon simple steel.
Among the dying, seared and crispy,
Stands the lord stiff with fear.
In a stutter, small and shaky,
Offers the victor all he has.
With its claws, honed and bloody,
Tears the gem from the soul.
With a smile, sly and phony,
Tells the zombie that is all.
In the dawn, red and streaky,
Wakes the lady from her dream.
On her back, content and happy
Lies the dragon with the gem.