A Collection of Poems

A Dragon Roared Within the Night

A dragon roared within the night;

A spectacle to be seen.

Her neck was long and her scales were white.

The mountain tops she set a-light;

And with her tail hewed great ravines.

A dragon roared within the night.

With serrated claws, she’d fight;

Her sight was sharp and keen.

Her neck was long and her scales were white.

She seared the land with great delight;

And terrorized it with her scream.

A dragon roared within the night.

She flew at wild, insane heights;

And watched the fires, quite serene.

Her neck was long and her scales were white.

No arrow could reach her on its flight;

For, to many, she was unseen.

A dragon roared within the night;

Her neck was long and her scales were white.

Day is Passing, Night is Coming

Day is passing;

The sun is sinking down.

Night is coming.

Shadows are growing;

Golden light falls on the town.

Day is passing.

Stars are gleaming;

Trees cast their shadows all around.

Night is coming.

The colored clouds are amassing;

They drape the hills just like a gown.

Day is passing.

The moon is rising;

Her pale face quite renowned.

Night is coming.

The light is failing;

The stars are smiling down.

Day is passing;

Night is coming.

Mist

All lands are covered in the mist,

A haunting air within the night;

It whirls around, shadow kissed.

The lone wolf’s howl through dark persists,

Its floating notes are many and white

All lands are covered in a mist.

The melody swirls in the midst

Of animals who will not fight.

It whirls around, shadow kissed.

The silver dew on trees that twist

Is stirred up by the wind this night

All lands are covered in a mist.

Then the wind that shifts

Changes its flight

It whirls around, shadow kissed.

The cloud, however, doth persist,

No wind can move it, not with might

All lands are covered in a mist,

It whirls around, shadow kissed.

Dawn

The empty night is crisp and cold,

The shadowed moors are misted.

With shining stars like polished gold,

The evening glow now has desisted.

The wolf into a ball is twisted,

The whip-or-will is in its oak.

The sleeping beasts cannot be listed,

Night has the world under her cloak.

Then golden lady bright awoke

And brought the cold, gray dawn.

With fiery sword, the darkness smote,

Then woke the world with song.

Mountains

Snow glistens on the tall gray mountain,

It spires up, a rocky fountain.

The fearless bird, the silver kite

Cannot reach these peaks with flight.

Way up there a fierce wind blows

Its biting chill like river flows.

Dusk

The silent shadows start to grow;

The sun begins to set.

A spindly tree delights to cast its eerie silhouette.

And soon the hills are all aglow,

With colors creeping slow.

Quickly the wind starts to sing, much like a clarinet.

The colored clouds form in the sky a shimmering, moving net.

Soon the full display of dusk is put into the show.

Then the little whip-or-will begins his lonely song;

And all of the first stars come out,

Whistling along.

The lake beats the percussion with the splashing of the trout;

The clumsy badger joins in with a snuffly little song.

A roaring bear then joins the throng and brings the music ‘bout.

A Frozen World

The icy wind blows hard and cold,

Chilling all within its path.

Biting all with glacial wrath;

Swirling ‘round the mountains old.

Dropping snow on cliffsides bold;

Bending ancient trees like laths.

Freezing ice on narrow path;

Trapping high peaks in its hold.

Still, from a window, it may seem,

That the frozen waste is pure.

For icy droplets form up high a frozen, ragged beam.

A chilling howl rips through the night, its owner quite obscure.

The silver, haunting light on snow castes an eerie gleam.

This wild snowstorm through the night all creatures must endure.

Sitting on water

A lonely cry echoes out

The scarlet-eyed loon

Long branched willow tree

Bending over quiet pool

Gentle fall of leaves

Soft rain pattering

Small streams running off the hills

Every flower blooms

Soundless mountain breeze

Sweeping through the shadowed peaks

A lonely wolf howls

A circle of clouds

Drenching lands in endless rain

A massive typhoon

White sky and white earth

Water drips down from a tree

An icicle melts

Prowling through the trees

Slyly stalking nimble prey

The great striped tiger

Light gleaming on lake

Gentle waves lapping the shore

The sun is setting

Wind howling above

Soft, cold flakes land on the high peaks

A mountain snow-storm

River flowing swift

Cascading down a drop-off

Roaring waterfall

Silver shining mist

Swirling ever on and on

Chilled breath, shadow kissed

Sinking down and down

Bubbles cascading upward

A watery grave

Maybe

Maybe someone will find a little egg,

And give it as a gift to me.

And maybe, just maybe, when it hatched

It would bear a dragon free.

Maybe someone will give me a gift

Of gold and silver and spice.

And I’d be a queen of great power and grace,

And live wealthy the rest of my life.

Maybe someone will read me a tale

That inspires a book of my own

I’ll be famous and free

With the power to weave enchanting stories of gold

Maybe, just maybe, one of these things

Will happen someday, somewhere.

But for now, I’m content

With the life that I live and

The paths for which I prepare.

Sea-breath

Deep under mountain

And high above tree

A silver wind blows,

Blows from the Sea.

Nothing so clear

And nothing so strong

Will blow again

For very long