Poetic Story
Posted: 25 Jan 2017, 01:49
I can write poetry, and I can write regular stories, but sometimes my favorite is to mix the two up. It's an almost-poem, and an almost-story.
Some of it might be found to be a little violent for some people, but I don't think it's too bad.
--
The young child was curious; inquisitive.
He watched as the warriors fought the mighty beasts.
Man fell, dragon fell. The war raged on.
From his place of safety, he watched.
The beautiful power of dragon wing against man’s spear.
Still but a child, but one day a man.
And men fought the mighty beasts.
~
Older he grew. Though still a child,
He grew older. Not yet a man, nor even close.
Yet not knee high anymore.
He watched still as the men fought.
He watched still as the men fell.
He watched still as the dragon wing met a pierced end.
To fight was his dream! To be a victor his destiny!
Yet the beauty of the dragons
Met with a dreadful fate
Made him shudder.
~
Closer still to a man he was,
Though not yet.
A child now, yet approaching still
To manhood. The fight continued.
Stumbling through the forest,
He saw the beasts. The dragons,
Their heads held high.
Their majestic beauty resonated through the forest.
If only – if only men would see!
If they would see as he did!
The wonder of the power of a dragon.
~
The young man ventured closer to the dragon’s home.
No one could know,
Not one of his people.
To make contact, he did not dare.
To try to touch their skin, he could not.
But to watch the beautiful power
Living life; that he did.
The young viking watched in wonder,
His long dark hair framing his smile.
These beasts had the love his people missed.
But still the war raged on.
~
The man looked back at his home.
He smiled at his lovely young wife.
Childrens’ laughter drifted from outside
From the children in the street.
He smiled again. Maybe one day,
He would have some of his own.
He went out to the forest to enjoy a calm evening’s walk.
All through the forest, his footsteps echoed.
The roars of the dragons could not be heard.
The beauty of bright wings could not be seen through the trees.
All was calm.
He came to the top of the hill, a hill
Which overlooked his village.
His blood ran cold as he saw the scene.
Smoke, fire, flames.
His heart skipped a beat as he started to run.
His footsteps echoed again, this time fast;
Faster and faster, all the way to the village.
There, his fears confirmed, he fell
Down to his knees. Tears streaming down his cheeks,
His hair all askew, he cried out.
His house, gone. His wife, gone.
The love of his life, the light in his life,
Gone.
Picking up his sword, he ran once more,
Cold fury pumping in his veins.
Down fell the dragons, their wings slicing,
The wings he once looked upon in wonder.
He saw a dragon, black and strong.
In the midst of the chaos it stood, proud and fierce.
In past times he would see the dragon’s beauty.
No more. He swung his sword back, ready for the death blow.
His feet pumping, he ran.
His muscles strained, his heart strained,
Strained for vengeance.
He noticed not as the dragons ‘round him attacked,
He felt not the pain.
His last thought before he fell was to strike the black dragon down.
His tear-filled eyes saw last the sight of the black dragon striking,
Striking to take him down,
The deadly blue heat rising in his mouth.
He struck!
Hours later, he awoke.
He was laying in a safe place.
The pain racked through his body.
He reached up an arm and stroked his burned face,
And tried his other arm –
No more! His arm was gone, burnt by dragon fire.
His face, he felt,
Stroking it with his one hand,
Was scarred and burned.
But more than that,
Far more,
His heart ached.
Ached for the beautiful wife who was lost.
A few short hours,
– Yet the longest of his life! –
Yet only a few hours gone by
Since he last saw her,
Still a lifetime to live.
The other men came and showed him
The dragon he slew.
The shining black scales,
The powerful frame,
Once he would have found it beautiful.
Now he only saw hate.
Now he only saw fear.
Now he only saw what love had cost him.
Had he spent his days fighting
Instead of watching
The mighty beasts,
His love might live.
But now,
Now he was ready.
He would embrace the traditions of his people.
This man would fight the dragons.
There was no more beauty in them.
Now he would live up to his name –
The name of Drago Bludvist.
~
He led the warriors to fight the mighty beasts.
Man fell, dragon fell. The war raged on.
--
Yup, it's a backstory for Drago!
I was challenged by my sister to make Drago have a backstory that made him seem more human and less gorilla-robot-villain-monster. After all, we're all human. We all have backstories. Just, some of us deal with it. Others... don't. And that's where the tragedy begins.
So, after you finish hating me for writing that, let me know what you think!
Some of it might be found to be a little violent for some people, but I don't think it's too bad.
--
The young child was curious; inquisitive.
He watched as the warriors fought the mighty beasts.
Man fell, dragon fell. The war raged on.
From his place of safety, he watched.
The beautiful power of dragon wing against man’s spear.
Still but a child, but one day a man.
And men fought the mighty beasts.
~
Older he grew. Though still a child,
He grew older. Not yet a man, nor even close.
Yet not knee high anymore.
He watched still as the men fought.
He watched still as the men fell.
He watched still as the dragon wing met a pierced end.
To fight was his dream! To be a victor his destiny!
Yet the beauty of the dragons
Met with a dreadful fate
Made him shudder.
~
Closer still to a man he was,
Though not yet.
A child now, yet approaching still
To manhood. The fight continued.
Stumbling through the forest,
He saw the beasts. The dragons,
Their heads held high.
Their majestic beauty resonated through the forest.
If only – if only men would see!
If they would see as he did!
The wonder of the power of a dragon.
~
The young man ventured closer to the dragon’s home.
No one could know,
Not one of his people.
To make contact, he did not dare.
To try to touch their skin, he could not.
But to watch the beautiful power
Living life; that he did.
The young viking watched in wonder,
His long dark hair framing his smile.
These beasts had the love his people missed.
But still the war raged on.
~
The man looked back at his home.
He smiled at his lovely young wife.
Childrens’ laughter drifted from outside
From the children in the street.
He smiled again. Maybe one day,
He would have some of his own.
He went out to the forest to enjoy a calm evening’s walk.
All through the forest, his footsteps echoed.
The roars of the dragons could not be heard.
The beauty of bright wings could not be seen through the trees.
All was calm.
He came to the top of the hill, a hill
Which overlooked his village.
His blood ran cold as he saw the scene.
Smoke, fire, flames.
His heart skipped a beat as he started to run.
His footsteps echoed again, this time fast;
Faster and faster, all the way to the village.
There, his fears confirmed, he fell
Down to his knees. Tears streaming down his cheeks,
His hair all askew, he cried out.
His house, gone. His wife, gone.
The love of his life, the light in his life,
Gone.
Picking up his sword, he ran once more,
Cold fury pumping in his veins.
Down fell the dragons, their wings slicing,
The wings he once looked upon in wonder.
He saw a dragon, black and strong.
In the midst of the chaos it stood, proud and fierce.
In past times he would see the dragon’s beauty.
No more. He swung his sword back, ready for the death blow.
His feet pumping, he ran.
His muscles strained, his heart strained,
Strained for vengeance.
He noticed not as the dragons ‘round him attacked,
He felt not the pain.
His last thought before he fell was to strike the black dragon down.
His tear-filled eyes saw last the sight of the black dragon striking,
Striking to take him down,
The deadly blue heat rising in his mouth.
He struck!
Hours later, he awoke.
He was laying in a safe place.
The pain racked through his body.
He reached up an arm and stroked his burned face,
And tried his other arm –
No more! His arm was gone, burnt by dragon fire.
His face, he felt,
Stroking it with his one hand,
Was scarred and burned.
But more than that,
Far more,
His heart ached.
Ached for the beautiful wife who was lost.
A few short hours,
– Yet the longest of his life! –
Yet only a few hours gone by
Since he last saw her,
Still a lifetime to live.
The other men came and showed him
The dragon he slew.
The shining black scales,
The powerful frame,
Once he would have found it beautiful.
Now he only saw hate.
Now he only saw fear.
Now he only saw what love had cost him.
Had he spent his days fighting
Instead of watching
The mighty beasts,
His love might live.
But now,
Now he was ready.
He would embrace the traditions of his people.
This man would fight the dragons.
There was no more beauty in them.
Now he would live up to his name –
The name of Drago Bludvist.
~
He led the warriors to fight the mighty beasts.
Man fell, dragon fell. The war raged on.
--
Yup, it's a backstory for Drago!
I was challenged by my sister to make Drago have a backstory that made him seem more human and less gorilla-robot-villain-monster. After all, we're all human. We all have backstories. Just, some of us deal with it. Others... don't. And that's where the tragedy begins.
So, after you finish hating me for writing that, let me know what you think!
really good though 
Thanks!