#36 .Dragon.

courtesy: Wordpress Blog Random_Michelle

Your personality for centuries…

eons of time

have confused many

in between choosing a side.

Are you the terror unleashed

from the

thrones of the sky

Or

are you the friend of the broken

using your wings

to protect the persons

for whom you have true affection?

You met me as a child

days not so long a go

you approached me softly

your mannerisms mild

and golden eyes aglow;

you were attentive to the

words I had to say

then patiently waited

till I felt brave enough

to climb onto your

scaly fortress,

and then we flew away.

I have never forgotten that night

when they appeared

with their bows, arrows

axes and spears

You hid me behind your rock

as they launched their attack

their leader meaning

to sacrifice my flesh to

win his crown back.

You never once cowered

under their blows,

then you opened your mouth

and let out a cry, deep and low

that

compelled lightning

to light up the skies

and out poured flames of anger

heat flushing my face

soon after, I saw …

only their ashes remained.

Years later you are by my side

helping me lead a rebellion

against the same tyrants

that had wished me

forgotten.

This time things are different,

the child’s heart now sees

with the eyes of a strong man

who has pieced himself together

through past defeats

have converted themselves

into acts of redemption

And you remain…

 forever in my background

keeping my paths lit

swooping in for the rescue

If per chance my journey runs amiss

How grateful I am to watch

you glide above my head;

always quiet, sincere

never leaving me alone

.Dragon.

Or

angel?

No one will ever know.

But your fiery breath has become

safest place that I’ve ever known.

 

My Inspiration: Photo Prompt by Random_Michelle 

 

© KohylahPiper 2015

 

 

#19 Somehow I was still alive.

 courtesy: Wordpress Blog Random_Michelle

This was the moment

my shadow wished it

could uncouple itself

from my

exhausted limbs

and hide

blending into darkness

away from the menacing lights

of handmade wooden torches

bent on scorching

any hope that I held

of being freed

from snarls of rage

disgusted

their calamity

my existence

that flowed from the

thorough execution of

my free speech.

How I wished

the stoic bridge above

could loosen its bolts,

and shed its concrete designs

over their ferocious intents,

coloured like the canvas

over their heads

a dusty, grim red

but it was unmoved by the

desperation of my plight.

Legs ran wild

beside

elegantly architectured doom…

carrying bodies of

brilliantly crafted,

repugnant

whitewashed tombs

over which gargoyles

sat and chanted

looking down

like vultures in heat

betting that these

powerful hunters

would be satisfied enough with the

thrill of the kill

to gift them the devastation

of my wasted,

fresh meat.

I had been escaping

by milliseconds

with muscles on the verge

of collapsing,

my survival

dependent solely on

 decelerating feet

agonizingly tired,

that for the pleasures of rest

had been longing

with each mechanical stride…

Yet despite

the fact these odds

clearly,

were never fashioned to be my friends

I recklessly believed

that if tenacious enough to try

any underdog could win,

and that an underestimated life

could lead a movement

if

bold enough to rise

from sweat that intermingled

with the metallic taste

of iron

spilling through

defunct capillaries

that had burst forth from the stress of

cradling their own

impending demise.

As the city walls converted into deep forest

their voices became progressively faint

the fire in their hands

was reduced to a glimmer

although their hatred persisted,

untamed…

and soon enough

silence engulfed

my noisy marathon

and the opaque night overtook my race;

and the legs that had endured

for so long

sensing

that safety was sure

gave themselves the full pleasure

of expressing their withheld distaste

under a sky where there

were no stars to guide and

only a moon who pondered my

inexorable fall,

wondering as I

What was this

sorcery

that launched me

nearer to destiny

binding me to a most certain ill fate

and then inexplicably…

pulled me away from it all?

Paralysed,

I laid in a meadow overgrown

with thickened brush that

shielded my eyes

it lulled me to dreamscapes

knowing I had been left quite wearied;

bruised, and shaken,

disheartened, angry and terrified;

pursued mercilessly, effectively abandoned

open game running, with no place to hide,

my passion had been almost murdered

my dreams almost vilified…

Yes.

I had been left quite wearied

but somehow...

 I was still alive.

# SELAHSATURDAYS

My Inspiration: Photo Fiction Prompt by Random_Michelle 

 

© KohylahPiper 2015