The Dragonflies' Lair~Thread XXVIII~

The Muse/Poets of the Lair | June 11, 2006 | bentfeather

[Soaring Feather]

My Dragon Fly and Me

If I could be a Dragon Fly
and wing my way through the sky
I would never be shy
just me and my Dragon Fly!

By moonlight we ride the wind
chase the comets tail for fun
by day we would hide from the sun
our fragile wings would come undone

On darkest nights we would use
fireflies as our guide
we would dip and we would glide
through the heavens open wide
and scatter diamonds in the night sky
my Dragon Fly and me...

And we would wing past our lovers
silent in the night...
to kiss their face in our flight
much to their surprise and delight
my Dragon Fly and me in sight...

Such a view do we share
away up here in the air
of breezes soft through our hair
my Dragon Fly and me a pair...

bentfeather©
2002

[WayzataJOHNN]

And a dragon poem for you.


Dragon In The Night

His passage sundered the night sky, like a knife edged blade of black steel,
leaving vortexes swirling in the evening mist like tracks across the sky.
Swift the speed, and daring the flight, among the craggy slopes did he reel,
winging his way with silent grace, did the great black dragon fly.

His jaws were edged with dagger teeth and fangs three hand spans long at least,
and eyes of satin fire that could fill a watcher with deepest dread.
Great wings stroked the chilly air, carrying him above the clouds, this awesome terrible beast,
was master of the sky, flying on the night winds as if darkness and he were wed.

Those fire filled eyes relentlessly scanned the ground so very far below,
never missing anything that moved, however small, the hunter in silent flight.
His silhouette spanned the moon and filled watchers with chills you know,
this mighty engine of destruction was abroad this moonlit night.

He spied a movement far below, a sweet girl child playing on a hill,
and he circled down in silence, making not a sound.
Banking in a sudden blast of air off those stygian wings now cupped to fill,
he settled on the crest of the mound beside the child on the ground.

His immense head swooped toward the child, who screamed at sight of the dragon,
and the phosphorescent eyes glowed with a higher fire that lit the area around.
The child stood there a moment, and then began to run straight on,
right up to the muzzle and hugged the beast upon the ground.

She covered his muzzle in kisses, as the beast closed those glowing eyes,
and I swear both had smiles that went from here to there.
A man climbed the small hill and knelt by the dragon of such immense size,
scratching that spot just under the chin with a smile of his own so fair.

"When can I fly with you Daddy" did she cry, still hugging the giant beast so tight,
and the dragon rider laughed and lifted her as he slipped into the harness seat.
"Why now of course, the sky is ours to fly on the wondrous winds of night",
the dragon lifted off to climb to cloud filled heights, with never a single missed beat.

"Someday Daddy, I will be a Dragon Rider too, and I will fly the winds of time just as you",
her grin so wide the man just had to laugh, hugging her so close, the love so true.
"Of course you will, that is the way of Dragons and their Riders, since dragons and men first flew,
we are the next in line of the Dragon Riders, as you in time will do".

They passed into the twilight, slipping through a misty cloud out of sight,
giant wings beating to a rhythm of fantasy to match the Age of Dragon.
They flew off as silent as a summer breeze into the waiting night,
I hope the little girl still flies her friend across the sky into a new and golden dawn.

[Soaring Feather]

Oh wow, gripping piece.

You draw the reader in to their own experience of fear. Then you broaden the field of fear into the unknown abyss which as humans we have shared.

[Kathy in Alaska]

Ear tuft alert: A month-old Eurasian lynx named Arny wrestles with her mother, Bessy, at the zoo in Sofia.

[Kathy in Alaska]

I thought you might need some chocolate, ms feather.

[Soaring Feather]

Dragon in the Night!

I love it!! You're so descriptive in your depiction of the dragon.

Good work.

[Soaring Feather]

Ah, you're so sweet to remember! You always help me to feel better.

I think our knees have something in common. Mine been hurting a tad today.



Thank You, for the lovely Roses and Chocolates. *HUGS*

[Soaring Feather]

Awwww so precious.


Thanks for the animal pinger.

[Soaring Feather]

Nice find LJ.


Food for thought. Thank You.

[starbase]

I was reading about different styles of writing poetry and it got me to thinking about other types of philosophy. You know, in martial arts there is this concept of "from form to formlessness". It grows out of the practice of first performing set moves in the same order all the time. As the moves become more and more second nature, the actual "space", or difference between transitioning from one technique to the other becomes smaller and smaller, until a fluidity replaces what began as set practice routines.

Maybe the difference between Romantic poetry and Traditional poetry (traditional being strict adherence to structure and metric) is that the expressive content of the Romantic message has attained a fluidity of essence and seeks to express in a wave-like fashion, as opposed to a structured delivery of traditional poems.

Another maxim in martial arts is that "there are no superior martial arts, just superior martial artists". This grows out of the constant inclination to compare martial art schools to know which one is "the best". So one practitioner using simple skills could win over others using, or misusing, more complex approaches. But next time around someone using the complex skills well may defeat the more simplistic style, and round and round it goes. For example, Muhammad Ali could probably have cleaned up most "talent" from any mediocre martial arts schools, but who could beat Bruce Lee?

Likewise I suppose the true power of the poem lies in its expressiveness. How the poem effects others is yet another angle. Is it possible to have a poem that is great, even if no one likes it? Is it possible that "perfect expression" could exist, even if it went completely unappreciated? Hmm. Is perfection perfect even if no one knows it's there?

Not to be confused with the "tree falling and no one there to hear it" argument. In that case the falling tree issues sound waves, which will be there if there's anything to receive them or not, so yes (Virginia), the tree does make a sound. I'm asking if perfection is any less perfect whether anyone knows about it or not.

[Soaring Feather]

Here's the way I would answer your question about Romantic and Traditional Poetry....

The following is both.

A Classic poet and one of my very favourites.





How Do I Love Thee?
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

[starbase]

Wow, excellent selection. I see the blend between Romantic and Traditional clearly, really nice piece (and famous too, "How do I love thee, let me count the ways"!).

I think Elizabeth Barrett Browning just became one of my favorite poets as well. I'm going to make it an ongoing project to familiarize myself with her work. I suppose the copyright has expired, so all her work should be on the Internet. I'm looking forward to learning more about her.

[Soaring Feather]

I'll send you a link in FReep Mail where you can find all the Classic poets.

[Soaring Feather]

A strange one from me.

The fire in the stars is love



The fire in the stars is love
star watchers... night walkers...
wind fliers have always known
we lovers own this space
I doubt not the power in
the silence nor the cold
calling to like minds
lacing loves strings
umbilical cords
decanting loves emollient
through centuries

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Yes, William doubt the movement
of Sol, doubt the spots and flares
doubt we are made of electricity
doubt that we spark...
that we flare...
doubt that passion rules
the heavens wars fought there
do not doubt the Queen of the heavens
mystery...

Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.

Truth is a fact cannot be a disproved
Truth is love cannot be denied
I am woman, I live, I love...

by bentfeather

[Soaring Feather]

A poem from my book



Embroidered on the Quilt

Embroidered on the quilt
to our history, warm loving nights
giggles over private jokes
looking at your five o'clock
shadow in moonlight
while drinking hot chocolate
and reviewing the day
with the cat wrapped around my feet
and me in your warm arms
remembering our loving hours
with the quilt
and moonlight lacing the wall.

bentfeather

[Soaring Feather]

One more from my book



I Needed a Refuge
by bentfeather

I needed a refuge
found it in the cold
of star filled nights
warm thoughts of
quilted comfort
with you...

[Soaring Feather]

Phil Collins~You'll Be In My Heart
Goodnight, everyone!
God, please protect our troops.

[Soaring Feather]

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, everyone.
Party today!
ms. feather's Birthday!

[starbase]

Happy Birthday!!!!

[Soaring Feather]

Thank You!