Dragon Tales

The dragon, the colour spectrum of his apparition, hidden in a decade past: only illuminative remnants of consciousness left over from the crackle and pop of jewels burnt on the pyre. Yet, like emeralds glinting in amongst the coals, his eyes still spy out from the darkness…

and the treasure kept hidden, deep down in the labyrinth in which we were both prisoners of boulders and chains, if there had been a Minotaur in sight, surely, without hesitating, we would have been the ones to sacrifice ourselves to it. But alas, the beast slept on…

The memory licks its fiery flames, inflaming the roar of Dragon’s birth; and how I hatched him out from that speckled egg, his drakeîn nature, and the way he diligently watched over his treasure—me.

Glittered scales shone as he darkened each hour, his all-encompassing passion grew, and towered over every day and night; I climbed his prehistoric limbs and wept, cradled in his mythology.

I knitted our time into a fairy-tale of melancholy happiness; and my tears became his fountain at the altar of love abiding loyalty. Taken from him, I starved, gaunt and baron; and the ball of wool rolled off into the fire.

Then the ashes rained down, and in his green fury, and whirly-wind of anger, he knitted us into realms of adversity where I knew I didn’t belong. Yet I stayed while the scorch of persimmon flames licked at the souls of our feet.

Because under a Solstice moon was shelter from the lies: a violet refuge from the agony of a mother’s deception; and the mirror of abandonment reflected in a lizard creature’s egg.

With such beauty, such respite from the first blossom of the carnal economy: the nude skin, and glittered scales drowning the knowledge of a hero with a thousand faces…

For that damn dragon was running amock in the shadow, staining blood at the door of my anima, raw grains flowing in melancholic wine, taking me down, down, dripping into the belly of the whale and its molecules of desperation

and out onto the road of trials, I saw that the beast—ugly and true—was me. So from under the serpent’s membranous wings, I took flight but not before inhaling the smell of Dragon’s blood, and tasting the scent of Eden’s nature garden, for I was lost amongst the synaesthesia of a ravenous love…

And screaming, I said, ‘Enough!’ No longer fearing Dragon’s crocodilian smirk, I reached down into the labyrinth and awoke the Minotaur. Lifting his head, he swayed, drunkenly on his feet, head bulbous and too big for his body,

dusting off cobwebs from his own cosmogony, called anew, he lent me a spark of recognition for the preciseness of this world, sending out wild seeds to arrive on the wind, and into modern warfare…

I took charge and slew this legendary creature, taking him down in a hail of imaginary bullets—terminating his serpentine rein. As my hero status faded, so too did all who were laid to waste in his crimson mist of poppy seed desire…

and their explosions out into the cosmos deluged down energies transmuted through the ages: Ganesh, Theseus, Amythystos, Eros, and Venus laughed and raised their glasses…

we all watched the volcano erupt, as I laid Dragon’s body on a bed of crimson petals. And as the lava solidified, so did my love for being alone–and free, leaving me with only a raw lucidity for this world, and the path for bliss laid bare.

And with the seeds sown, and the forest grown anew, the hero’s journey was reborn, and the day I slew the Dragon and escaped out of the labyrinth is all that I have left of the treasure to share

with you.

© Michellina van Loder, 2012

(Note: As a part of my Myths and Symbols assignment and my learnings on Joseph Campbell and The Hero’s Journey, and in my imitative poetry student style, I lovingly crafted this poem; it was definitely influenced by my studies on Luke Davies, an Awesome Australian Contemporary Poet, and his equally awesome Epic Poem: Totem Poem. There are parts of Dragon where I allude to parts of Davies’s, Totem Poem, (Ganesh… the preciseness of this world… The labyrinth… and The Minotaur.) I do this with the greatest respect and awe for Luke Davies and his Totem Poem. You can read The Totem Poem here. And you can find more of his poetry: Interferon Psalms, over here.)

Thank you for reading. Any feedback on this poem will be appreciated, as it’s one I’m considering workshopping this year…