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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2131215
Story Poem
The legend of All Dragon's Day

The last dragon belong to a Vagabon.
The Vagabon king who had captured him.
For a curious reward, when he'd conquered the hoard.
Other prizes he'd won, from the vilest of Hun.
He had flesh eating birds and war horses in herds.
He had bushels of gold, fine stories untold.
Composers and jesters and poets.

But none he loved more, than the dragons roar.
The gleam from its' scale, as it flung its' great tail.
Its vast chest it would heave, but no fire would breath.
From it's huge gaping jaw, just the hideous roar.
Of a dragon in pain, held prisoner with chains.
By the Vagabon king, who delighted in him.
In spite of the wretch he'd become.

Now, a dragon whose breath, no longer sprays death.
Yearns for his home, for fire and brimstone.
The black acid rain, and the brave knights he'd slain.
Only his enemies pain, could rekindle the flame.
Would the centuries pass, would his chance come at last.
His mood grew ever more sullen.

The Vagabon king had two children,
The youngest as fair as the dawn.
Her hair, the colour of golden sun,
reflecting on ripening corn.
Her ravishing beauty, the talk of the land.
A thousand young princes had begged for her hand.
Yea in other direction, above mere affection,
For knowledge her yearning, midst pages of learning.
She whiled away days reading myth.

In an age yellowed sorcerers scribblings,
The princess found reference to dragon and knave.
How all kings of old, had been gallant and bold.
Filled with honour and gentle and brave.
How all evil sorcery, once had been banished.
All bad wizards writings and spells ordered vanished.
How despite good, evil had its' day.
Horrible sorcerers had their way,
and changed all the kings into dragons.

The scribe had woven a curious tale,
the quill told of how evil had won.
How the dragon kings would suffer,
until the spell could be undone.
By a maiden whose hair must be golden,
her lips as red as the rose.
She must at night hold the dragon beast to her breast.
And place a kiss on his nose.

At this, the vile dragon would instantly change,
once again to his humanly form.
But on this night, the two must wed,
beautiful maid be warned.
Or both will be changed into dragons,
by the crow of the cock the next morn.
If who so ever read these words,
should a golden haired maiden be.
Stand now charged, a king to free,
or he'll die by the crescent moon.

She lay before her Vagabon sire,
the words of the Sorcerers' quill.
Her fathers calm countenance covered his rage,
He was fond of his daughters strong will.
My beauty I bid, you must follow the course,
laid down as the scribe has foretold.
But what if the King, although gallant and bold,
should also be withered and old.

And what if the sorcerers trickery,
could steer good intention awry.
Would you live as a fire breathing dragon,
or rather the both of you die.
She called upon her brothers' lance,
that if by chance the wizard Kerr,
should even try to capture her.
He would slaughter the beasts in the now.

As day wore on to eve,
the dragon barely draw breath.
Lay motionless there, in its' hideous lair,
As one in the last throws of death.
The dreg rays of sun poured to empty the day.
A royal courtage gathered round.
The princess knelt by the dragon,
determined this evil unwound.

In terror, the sky filled with thunder,
Lightning bolt through castle stone.
There appeared a ghastly sorcerer,
who'd wrought the dragons doom.
"How dare you challenge my muse.",
the wizard spat. "How would you dare."
"I'll steal your breath and golden hair.",
Then raised the blow to deliver.

He brushed aside the knight with lance,
as if a shadow barred his way.
He paid no heed to the dragon,
whom around his sandals lay.
The dragon raised upon its heels,
for all its' final breath.
Grasped the evil wizard 'twixt it's jaws,
and breathed his firey death.
As the Sorcerers harmless ashes,
spilled upon the dungeon stone.
Thunder clouds abated,
to reveal the crescent moon.

The princess bowed to kiss,
the lifeless dragon by her feet.
Instead there lay a handsome king,
whose lips her own did meet.
They married 'neath the crescent moon,
while all in Vagabonom feast.
The Vagabon king, who'd begun this thing,
by acquisition of curious beast.
Bestowed upon the newly weds,
encrusted crowns, upon their heads.
And all the kingdom loved th'm.

A law were passed, by royal decree.
Those held in chains, at once be free,
this day and all succeeding.
That good souls who stay, or pass this way,
should beneath the crescent moon in May.
Aside their toil and malice lay,
to feast upon All Dragons Day.
© Copyright 2017 Kevin F Dunn (kevinfdunn at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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