Friday, January 13, 2012

Wing

In the dreams of a dragon
heat sings, fire, crackling bones
a shimmer of scales and the smell
of hot mammalian fear,
a flash of prey refracted
sixteen times over
by faceted lizard eyes

When dragons dream, they call down
all seven senses, no mere technicolor:
sapphire, black and rose,
when the tongue is flooded over
with scalding feral blood, and the south-wind
draws a winged membrane with a
~ whoomp ~
into fullness, lean and proud

Rachel Westfall
January 13, 2012

12 comments:

Elisabeth said...

Your stunning imagination and agility with words does you proud. I stand in awe, Rachel. Such vivid imagery.

Rachel Westfall said...

Aw, thanks so much, Elisabeth! This just feels like play. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

christopher said...

Thank you for your poesy. You have been a great friend to me. The ~ whoomp ~ is especially effective, dear.

The Quest

The play of your words,
dragon scales across the wind,
fully hot blooded:
sword and shield against
the swollen molten lizard
eyes gleaming with lust.

I cannot guess why
I would think up a knight's hood
at this turn of time.
I have delivered
the razor's slash as if there
was a dragon's egg.

christopher said...

The first and last triplets have turned into small stone haikus and will shortly appear in that series. Again, thank you, my friend.

Wander said...

I have not been able to comment on anyoue's posts in days...I'm glad that has stopped. I love dragons, have two of them on my body, I dont love the 70s verson like puff I like the destructive raw power inherrent in the dragon of my imagination...and you hit it on the head, and he is pist!

RachelW said...

Christopher, I'm glad of this. It seems a shame to split a cohesive poem into stones, though.

Wander, I have loved dragons for as long as I can remember, too, even puff, but more so the real, raw dragon as you say. I have a gentle one on my body, and another that has been kindling in my imagination for at least 15 years now.

Rob-bear said...

When Bears dream
the verdant valleys
are alive,
counterpointed in dots
of red, yellow, blue.

When Bears dream,
the luscious air
invites to nuts, berries, fish
and other tasty tidbits.

(OK, so Bears aren't as interesting as Dragons.)

Now, if this Bear could start hibernating, he would have such dreams. It has been too warm until now, but a change is coming with tonight's snow.

Rachel Westfall said...

Bears have magic, too. I hope you get to hibernate a little. It is so refreshing. It has been unseasonably warm here, too, but that's all over now. The ice on my window this morning says it dropped to around -30 last night.

christopher said...

Rachel, very often I see how my poems are also conglomerates of smaller ones. I have no trouble that way. This one will eventually see the light as a single work. Thank you for defending it. God blesses me with your kindnesses.

I hope Rob gets his hibernation. I like it very much when I get mine.

Rachel Westfall said...

I was wrong; it's not -30. It's -37. Brr.... definitely hibernation time!

Christopher, I get it. I'm glad you are keeping it whole as well as sacrificing it for its parts.

Joseph Harker said...

That "seven senses" really stood out, so casually placed in. Good way of showing that supernatural-ness (supernature?).

The captcha word I have to type to leave this comment is "gnogylif", which is what I might name a dragon, had I a small one.

christopher said...

Joseph...excellent. "gnogylif's" cousin "feriss" says hi from the left coast.