Musings Of A Clouded Mind
Aragon
A story poem...
In days of old when the kingdom had withered
as sorcerers and seers took hold
weaving their spells with magical words
causing death and misery so cold;
there came a cry heard far and wide from
Middle Earth, so it's been told.
No incantation to stop the fire, no
payment in all of man's gold.
The magic ones had naught to fear save the
courage and strength of the beast,
but fear they should as the behemoth stirred and
envisioned the coming feast.
Awakened from a tranquil sleep of centuries
it was, no doubt, Aragon, the powerful one,
whose legend was known throughout.
His course was set before all time as he took
to the air on the wing.
Three days' journey to reach the dark forest to
rid them the evil thing.
No one knew the dragon was near
‘til they heard the beat of his wings,
then fear gripped their souls for they knew
so well that their spells were useless things.
They met at morning as the sun rose bright
but little light shone in the wood;
ten against one seemed the best odds
‘til he let loose a roar where they stood.
He singed them with heat and scorched
them with flame, the battle was shortly won;
the kingdom restored, he set off for home
his work here at last now was done.
They say he rests alone in his lair
for all time, unaware of his fame.
Peacefully sleeping for centuries to come
‘til the day someone calls out his name…Aragon….
Copyright by
Anits Lewis Longino
August 12, 2010
In days of old when the kingdom had withered
as sorcerers and seers took hold
weaving their spells with magical words
causing death and misery so cold;
there came a cry heard far and wide from
Middle Earth, so it's been told.
No incantation to stop the fire, no
payment in all of man's gold.
The magic ones had naught to fear save the
courage and strength of the beast,
but fear they should as the behemoth stirred and
envisioned the coming feast.
Awakened from a tranquil sleep of centuries
it was, no doubt, Aragon, the powerful one,
whose legend was known throughout.
His course was set before all time as he took
to the air on the wing.
Three days' journey to reach the dark forest to
rid them the evil thing.
No one knew the dragon was near
‘til they heard the beat of his wings,
then fear gripped their souls for they knew
so well that their spells were useless things.
They met at morning as the sun rose bright
but little light shone in the wood;
ten against one seemed the best odds
‘til he let loose a roar where they stood.
He singed them with heat and scorched
them with flame, the battle was shortly won;
the kingdom restored, he set off for home
his work here at last now was done.
They say he rests alone in his lair
for all time, unaware of his fame.
Peacefully sleeping for centuries to come
‘til the day someone calls out his name…Aragon….
Copyright by
Anits Lewis Longino
August 12, 2010
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Aragon
Aragon
