Photo by Brett Traffordvisit his site 365 to 42 for more beautiful photographs.
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Let us write a bit of fantasy today
by using a dragon in our writing.
_______________________
"Tell me again Grandpa! How Sir Donsk froze the dragon!" Randy was fascinated by the monumental stone dragon perched on the barricade wall. Grandpa sighed, but smiled at the same time. The story was so clever and magical, he never tired of repeating it...
"All the dragons of the land, you know, are a different precious metal or stone. Because of the bronze quarries in the mountains around our little valley, the creators drew a bronze dragon from the heart of Mount Pire. It tormented the people of our valley for hundreds of years. No one knows how long a dragon lives, I've told you that. Well when my grandfather was a little boy, there was a man who came to the village named Donsk. That's all anyone ever called him. He said he knew just how to stop the dragon. In its tracks, he said. Over the years Donsk realized that the dragon always went away quickly when it started to rain, and would never go near the lake or the river. He also knew that the dragon loved to eat fish- but wouldn't go in the water to get them, and so stole them from us. He then concocted a plan to finish the dragon! In just one day he built a giant fish from paper, cloth and saplings. It was the day after the caravan from the coast had left, and Donsk had bough lots of fish. He painted each scale on his paper fish with the grease from one's he'd bought, til they shined in the sun. The dragon was sure to come, and the townspeople heard it roar from its lair, far off. They hid inside, but Donsk staid out. They heard him singing strange words, and some saw him doing a strange dance with buckets of water. It was a Rain Dance! Then the dragon arrived, but Donsk only sang louder and danced faster. The beast tried to eat the giant fake fish, but quickly realized it couldn't and set it on fire out of anger. Still Donsk did his Rain Dance. By then the dragon was perched on the wall, sniffing for something else to eat when suddenly Donsk's prayers were answered! Without warning there was an incredible downpour, and the dragon became stuck, stiff and rusted over with green rust from the rain that covers everything bronze sooner or later. Donsk of course was knighted and moved on to help other villages. That was the last that the dragon ever moved, though sometimes in droughts you might hear it start to roar. You better run to the lake then, with your biggest bucket and watch the steam rise off the Bronze Dragon when you dowse him. If you don't, you might be dowsing your barn instead."
~ I.N.Kwell
One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.
19 comments:
I see the dragon but I, like it, have no tail....
(That's about the most awful pun I have ever come up with - sorry!)
LOL... boo... hiss... minus 10 points for that very bad pun. ;)
I will stand on top of this monument,and wait for my prey. I am strong, all powerful, no one can defeat me! I can fly to the ends of the world, freely, high in the sky. I love being a dragon, there is nothing like it. I feel sorry for those who dare try to fight me, for they will surely lose.
As the dragon approached, I knew I could not escape the fiery breath..feigning death, I lay still until the behemoth passed over me. Once by, I sprang to my feet mustering all the strength and courage within me, leaped on it's back and held tight.
It's long neck whipping, striking back at me to loosen my grip gave me pause as to what foolish scheme I had hatched. Without thinking, I buried my sword deep at the base of it's skull. Gasping, swaggering and finally stumbling to it's knees...it gasped it's final fiery breath only to succumb to a frail, shivering human.
Putting down the small plastic dragon, he ran off to wash up for dinner knowing that once again he had saved the world.
Dan
To revere and admire from afar
or to capture and command such a beast.
This is the struggle of my heart,
that which haunts me through restless sleep.
For I feel much like a young child
driven to grasp the fabled horn.
And though I have propelled the world into darkness,
I will have pet a unicorn.
Should I risk a death of ember
to live a life of glory?
Or should I simply stalk the creature
and tell a more interesting story?
The Dragon soars once more,
freed by the greed of those with no need,
peaceful prosperity yields way to Horror's rancor.
The savage swoops o'er stoops and through peach basket hoops
preying upon peasants; man, woman or child.
Torn like a thorn by tarragon with horn,
forlorn families mourn through their scorn
tormented by scaly winged serpent so wild.
Idle slaves hoist their glaives with raves
against wyvern parlayed by pampered knaves.
How to conquer? How to defeat?
What treasure laid at monster's feet
will alleviate appetite with allure so sweet?
None knows what it is that eases the throes
of those dying horribly from basilisk blows.
But As hydra haunts, and future daunts
the heroes survive by delaying their wants.
And as behemoth retreats to rest from it's feats
I implore, you do not find the fiend at fault
instead chastise those with the keys to It's vault,
Instead buy up their lands while their blood's in the streets.
It's a little long, but I couldn't resist...I get caught up in it. LOVE WRITING!!!
She was outside playing the yard behind the house when she heard a sound coming from the woods. She knew that she wasn’t supposed to go in there. It was dangerous in the woods, they said. The people who lived there before them had thrown their garbage and furniture, metal and glass and whatever else into the woods. She could get hurt.
She decided to forget the noise and continued playing. The she heard it again…snuffle, ruffle, pomp. That was such a curious noise, nothing she’d heard before and she was quite the adventurous girl. It took everything she had to stay put. Thoughts ran through her mind of what it might be, maybe a bunny was hurt or maybe it was a deer wanting to eat from the apple tree in the front. She scanned the windows of the house to see if anyone was looking out and she stepped toward the woods; creeping so gently, as not to cause attention to herself.
WHIRRRRR, a loud siren started blowing from down the street and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She stood still for a minute to catch her breathe and scanned the windows one more time…it looks clear, she thought to herself. She continued on toward the woods when, THUMP…she fell hard to the ground. Something tripped her, what was it? Oh, just a rock. She began to think that maybe these were signs that she shouldn’t be wandering off, but that didn’t stop her.
Snuffle, ruffle, pomp! There it was again, and it sounds close. Ooooh, what’s that? Something shiny caught her eye, just beyond the berries. I must see what it is, she thought. She reached down to grab it and felt a warm humid wind blow against her face. She looked up and there he stood. No way, she thought. I must be dreaming or something…this is NOT real.
Softly, he spoke to her…”This is real, child.” She dropped instantly, blown away; her mind and her body caught in the reality of the moment…she fainted.
As she opened her eyes, unaware, she felt herself being carried. Who had her? Where were they taking her? Who is this? What’s going on? Then she realized it was him, The Dragon. He was carrying her. Just as she began to understand the reality of what was happening, he set her down. He said to her, “Child. You do not belong in these woods. I would love to be your friend, a protector to you but you must promise me that you will never go into these woods. The danger is real.”
She looked up at him, then at the woods, then at the house. He had placed her back into the yard, where she began this little journey. “But I want to…”
“NO! You may not enter the woods again.” He shouted at her.
Frightened, she sat trembling. He understood that he had startled her and compassionately touched her head with his gentle hand. “Child, I will be here when you need a friend. I am gentle and filled with love to share with you. If you would like to see me again, just call my name.”
“But…but…I don’t know your name.” She said to him.
“My name is Eli. I am a dragon. I was sent to watch over you while you grow in this house and to protect you from these woods. You must never enter there. Now, go in the house. It is dinner time and your mother is wondering where you are. I promise I will be here whenever you call my name.”
She hugged him tight and ran to the house with excitement, looking back to see if he was still there. He was. He waited until she closed the door, then he returned to the woods just behind the berry bushes.
Along with my "perfection" post today, on my blog...obviously, I'm okay with mistakes (Could you tell I didn't proofread...again?)
LOL - oh well...so, it be.
♥
That's the last time burp that I eat burpa human who's been eating burp jalapenos.
"Tell me again Grandpa! How Sir Donsk froze the dragon!" Randy was fascinated by the monumental stone dragon perched on the barricade wall. Grandpa sighed, but smiled at the same time. The story was so clever and magical, he never tired of repeating it...
All the dragons of the land, you know, are a different prescious metal or stone. Because of the bronze quaries in the mountians around our little valley, the creators drew a bronze dragon from the heart of Mount Pire. It tormented the people of our valley for hundreds of years. No one knows how long a dragon lives, I've told you that. Well when my grandfather was a little boy, there was a man who came to the village named Donsk. That's all anyone ever called him. He said he knew just how to stop the dragon. In its tracks, he said. Over the years Donsk realized that the dragon always went away quickly when it started to rain, and would never go near the lake or the river. He also knew that the dragon loved to eat fish- but wouldn't go in the water to get them, and so stole them from us. He then concocted a plan to finish the dragon! In just one day he built a giant fish from paper, cloth and sapplings. It was the day after the caravan from the coast had left, and Donsk had bough lots of fish. He painted each scale on his paper fish with the grease from one's he'd bought, til they shined in the sun. The dragon was sure to come, and the townspeople heard it roar from its lair, far off. They hid inside, but Donsk staid out. They heard him singing strage words, and some saw him doing a strange dance with buckets of water. It was a Rain Dance! Then the dragon arrived, but Donsk only sang louder and danced faster. The beast tried to eat the giant fake fish, but quickly realized it couldn't and set it on fire out of anger. Still Donsk did his Rain Dance. By then the dragon was perched on the wall, sniffing for something else to eat when suddenly Donsk's prayers were answered! Without warning there was an incredible downpour, and the dragon became stuck, stiff and rusted over with green rust from the rain that covers everything bronze sooner or later. Donsk of course was knighted and moved on to help other villages. That was the last that the dragon ever moved, though sometimes in droughts you might hear it start to roar. You better run to the lake then, with your biggest bucket and watch the steam rise off the Bronze Dragon when you dowse him. If you don't, you might be dowsing your barn instead
The Dragon
With flaming nose and steely eyes,
A dragon loves to terrorise.
He scours the land from an early hour
For serfs and vassals to devour.
He loves to hear their deep despair,
When he barbeques their derriere.
He smiles to see them beg and fawning
To the smell of bacon in the morning.
But one little serf had had enough
Of being hasselled by this tough.
He spread his legs and crossed his arms,
Determined to protect their farms.
“O scaley thing, you are a fraud!
Hop it or I’ll use my sword!
Unlike the rest, I don't overrate you.
So back off or I’ll perforate you!”
The dragon stood, as if debating,
Before sighing and then deflating.
It wriggled a bit, the head fell off
And from it stepped a small dwarf.
“OK, now that my skin’s unfurled
Will you protect me from this nasty world?
My jig is up, I’ve shed my hide,
So what protection do you provide?
“Well no, that’s really not my place.
I just wanted to save my serfy race.
Now go and inflict no further pain
For I’ll skewer you if you come again.”
The little dwarf gave the serf a salute,
Then lit the burners and inflated the suit,
And, with no further conversation,
Flame grilled the serfy little irritation.
Formatted version.
I admit it's a bit rough.
~Dragon's Lament ~
'Tis precipice of woe I stance upon
in regard for damnation eternal
hardened 'neath eternity's blighted dawn
'fore my legend hast deemed annul
Oh, my maiden fair thou cast saddened eyes
'pon thee, and sing laments so bountifully
to ease the pangs of this wretched demise
set forth in penance to majestic decree
For cindered breath once serenade ago
in secret thou maiden's ardent romance
'til thou husband, my king, beheld in woe
our affair shall be inked in forbiddance
Now fate be damned in stone 'pon epitaph
'This dragon shall suffer on Love's behalf.'
@ Scriptor...that was a good one! **snort**
@ Sarah - a really nice post. ;)
*** *** ***
Verdigris
Cased in strength
An attacker for cause
Patina
Darkness falls over the hills. All that is still,
comes to life at their will
on this one night.
Magic like you've seen in your dreams,
it suddenly seems
that your thoughts are all free
to take flight.
And if you look at me like
you're my very best friend
I would follow you
till the world stops
and the sun shines no longer
and the story of our lives is ended.
Sprites dance, starlight on their wings.
The songs that they sing
carry into the winds
as it blows away.
Dragons, Wizards, and the like
all dressed in white
welcome you by their side
just to celebrate.
And if you talk to me like
you're my very best friend
I would follow you
till the world stops
and the sun shines no longer
and the story of our lives is ended.
Dawn calls like a lantern at home
and it turns me to stone.
Like the words of a poem
can break your heart.
I'm looking towards the sunlight
like I'm frozen in time.
The memory of this one night
too close to cast from your mind.
But you'll hold on to me
till the world stops
and the sun shines no longer
and the story of our lives is ended.
From Chapter 35 of my novel. Enjoy.
****
Luis’ voice in the pitch black, as Maggie fell:
“Among the Y’gerion, the highest order of dragons, none is held in greater esteem than the one known as Satèlemark.
“Satèlemark, so the legend goes, was the widowed mother of a remarkable brood of children: baby dragons all with incredible blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to glow; eyes with feathery wisps of white that traveled over them; eyes that revealed the enormous latent power within each child. Power that the king of Satèlemark’s dragonly realm coveted above all, for with it he could destroy his rivals and assume absolute sovereignty over all he surveyed. But to come into possession of that power, the dragon king had to drink the blood of the sacrificed children.
“The king ordered Satèlemark to give up her children for the higher good of the kingdom. With their deaths, he told her, the enemies constantly threatening his realm would be vanquished, and the dragon citizens, which included her, would all live in peace forever, for no one would ever be able to oppose him and his newly acquired powers.
“Satèlemark refused.
“Frightened for her children, she rounded them up and, in the dark of Galactic night, fled. When the king’s centurion came to Satèlemark’s abode early the next morning to take her brood by force, she and her remarkable children were gone. The dragon king, infuriated, ordered her death, and sent his vast and vicious army of Y’gerion dragon killers after her. They were not to harm the brood in any way, he decreed, but Satèlemark was to be stretched until her great backbone snapped, then burned to ashes.
“On the Ethereal Frontier that night, between the mighty Nebular Peaks, the king’s dark forces caught up to Satèlemark and her brood. Satèlemark surrounded her children, her long forked tongue flicking over her tail, her eyes alight with fear and fury. The dragon killers grinned amongst themselves: this would be easy. Soon the brood would be safely in their huge claws, and the mother would pay for her treason with her life.
“The dragon killers attacked. But before they even knew what had happened, their entire frontal assault was dead. Satèlemark had moved so swiftly that none among them saw her counterattack. She raised her massive head over the dead and roared in challenge and contempt. The sound was like a great whirlwind tearing through the valley, the orange flames from her open maw licking the starlit vault of Heaven itself. Her brood nestled closely to her, their blues eyes staring out at the cautiously advancing killers.
“The king’s forces attacked again and again. But the dragon mother was too fast for them, too skilled. She could sink her fangs into one killer while her tail swished around as if with a mind of its own, sharp as a dagger and many times quicker, lancing the foolhardy who chanced an opportune strike at her; in the next instant blinding another with a spray of deadly poison from her fangs. Satèlemark’s fire washed over the universe like a hellish curtain, scorching her enemies to the bone, her spines like razor blades, cutting into the meat of their hearts, tearing out their lungs. As her coils shifted, so did her brood, always staying in the thick of them, always safely out of harm’s way.
“But there were too many of the king’s killers, and over a long time, the dragon mother began to tire. Coiling around her brood, her fangs glistening with poison, she readied their deaths. They would not be sacrificed to the Y’gerion king; they would die with her, by her hand. The leader of the dragon killers saw what she was about to do, and urged her to stop. He had gained immense respect for Satèlemark during the battle, and now, with more of his own dragon killers dead than alive, he looked around and said:
“ ‘The Daen-Cer-Tain that flows in the blood of your brood flows in you. Give yourself as sacrifice to the king, and your children may live in peace.’
“Satèlemark agreed. But as the dragon commander watched, she let drip a single drop of poison from her fangs on each of their heads. ‘Beloved,’ she told them, ‘gather round each other now and for all time, for danger encircles you, and always will. Should that danger become insurmountable, flick your tongue to the head of the brother or sister nearest you and take in the poison and die, for it is better to die young and true than to live long and false.’
“The children were inconsolable. They did not wish to remain all alone on the Ethereal Frontier; they wanted to be with their mother, even if by doing so they would witness her gruesome death at the greedy claws of the king. Close to her and weeping, their blue eyes full of tears, they joined her, surrounded by the surviving dragon killers. They went back to the kingdom.
“The Y’gerion monarch was elated to see the captured brood—and enraged to see that Satèlemark lived. ‘Kill her now!’ he thundered to the dragon commander. But the dragon commander had been so inspired by Satèlemark’s courage and valor on the battlefield that instead of following orders, he rose up and struck down the king’s guards before being felled by the king himself. ‘Kill her now!’ he ordered the commander’s surviving battalion. But the battalion refused, and, with a defiant roar each, killed themselves, plunging their fangs into their own bellies, drinking their own blood.
“Satèlemark saw her chance and moved. With speed never before seen and never seen since, she released her children and surrounded the king. He was trapped. One move, and he would die in her swift clutches.
“ ‘Here is where you shall stay for all eternity, King Ammalinaeus,’ she told the vanquished monarch. ‘Here in my coils. And you shall watch over my children, seeing how close you got to absolute power; they shall nestle in your palace next to me; and the poison shall stay on their heads, just a flick of the tongue away for each of them; and they shall serve as your kingdom’s highest pride and glory. Tell the cowards in your kingdom, the subjects who wanted you to have that power, that if they move against me, you shall die; if they move against my children, you shall die. The power you and they covet—the very power that alone can save you and your kingdom from your enemies—will be lost forever. But for the few truly courageous who serve you, should they need to yoke the strength that flows in my and my children’s blood, they need only come together and pray:
“What we join together
in the light of Ammalinaeus
shall endure forever.”
“ ‘That which this prayer falls on,’ she said, ‘shall become indestructible. It shall be so because I will be your wife, and you shall be my husband, and we shall become One. Our union will be your greatest victory and your bitterest defeat: for the Daen-Cer-Tain you sought to bleed from my brood will now only reside in the hands of those subjects brave enough to truly love, as I truly love my children.’ ”
Maggie landed. She knew immediately that it was a ship; she could hear water sloshing against its hull, could feel its ponderous side-to-side rocking beneath her. The light gathered slowly, focusing into a prism.
Luis:
“It is an incredible fact: it does not matter what shore on Aquanus you land on, what language the natives speak, their politics or history, their wars or their peace, their culture or stories or the color of their skin. Everywhere you go on Aquanus, Satèlemark translates to the same thing: ‘Defiance swallowing her own tail.’ For Vanerrincourtians it signifies refusal to bow to abject power, to surrender, to accept, to compromise, to face meekly one’s fate and aquiesce, to give up without a fight—to the death, if need be.
“Satèlemark, Margarita!” yelled Luis, startling her. “Satèlemark!”
"Jealousy, that dragon which slays love under the pretense of keeping it alive."
—Havelock Ellis
Post a Comment