Posted on 08/01/2008 6:23:53 AM PDT by Soaring Feather
Are you Cinderphilic?
Thank you, Feather!
A dragon is a good friend to have.
I believe...
There’s a little dragon in all of us
we keep him there as we need to fuss
he holds the pressure valve just so
and when we are pissed
wellllll, he let’s it go!
LOL
correction let’s=lets
Sifting through the cracks of 5 years of poetry.
Like a canvas form of
nakedness weeps
a canopy filters
a misty rising desire
I shaded my love clinging
to a cloud, crossing the horizon.
bentfeather
11/23/04
239 posted on Wednesday, November 24, 2004 1:28:43 PM by Soaring Feather
My eyes watch a floating moon
while the lake is winking at my bones
like a soft lover
bentfeather
11/28/04
I was going to write a poem about cinders.
But I had a cinder block.
Cinder block - Damn you’re good!
Dragon? Did someone say Dragon? 8^)) Great poetry
Poor thing! It's just a baby!
I like dragons, but mine are a special kind:
.
Ken sat on his towel and stared out at the sea. He sensed and felt the approach of the dragon. Wind from the wings swept over him, and the ground trembled slightly with its landing.
Ken looked around. There had been no sound.
Ke’Enarsha stood within a pace of him, towering over him.
“I could eat you.” Rumbled the dragon’s deep voice.
Ken rose smoothly, and faced toward the dragon. Naked after his swim, he stood with his arms stretched out wide, and with his eyes closed. Something told him this was an appropriate way to present himself as a sacrifice.
“Eat me, then, and end my troubles. Begin your own.”
There was only silence in answer. Then he heard the dragon’s indrawn breath, and braced himself for what would happen.
Warm air wafted gently over his drying skin, as the slitted nostrils of Ke’Enarsha opened wide upon him. He opened his eyes. Ke’Enarsha lowered his head.
Ken stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the huge scaly head. “I love you too, Ke’Enarsha.”
The rumbling voice spoke again. “Let us ride.”
Ken grabbed his towel and draped it over the rough scales behind Ke’Enarsha’s short frill, and climbed up to sit behind his head. He held onto the wicked looking horns that came up to form the upper apexes of an inverted triangle.
Ke’Enarsha spread his wings into the stroke position, and Ken could hear the wheezy sound of the organic bellows of the firelung drawing in air between the dragon’s shoulder blades. With a sound like a small door slamming shut, the lungflap closed and there was an immediate thunderclap of noise.
Ken was thrust violently downward as the dragon sprang upward. Then Ke’Enarsha power-stroked again and again, gaining altitude with each beat of his wings. In a moment, they were gliding south along the coastline, riding the onshore breeze as it rose onto the land.
Ken screamed in exultation. Ke’Enarsha turned his head slightly, looking back at him. The corners of his huge mouth gave a slight twist in the dragon equivalent of a big smile.
Ken twisted at the head of the dragon and squeezed with his legs as if he were trying to control the huge beast. Ke’Enarsha swayed slightly, dipping left and right. Ken shouted in triumph again. Who could feel gloomy while riding on a dragon?
They circled around the diggings, and the construction sites. At this height, those scratchings looked pitifully small. What hope had he to conquer a world?
But riding a dragon tends to make such thoughts whisk away in the streaming wind. He had the assistance of a score of dragons, and he had the robots and computers of his ship. One man, not quite alone, would do what had to be done. There was no other course.
Ah, Bob this is wonderful, such strong and inventive writing. I do remember reading this piece, loved it then as now.
Thanks
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