VENGEANCE IS MINE – An Epic Poem

Scales like bronze shields molded into a coat of mail,

Each moving sinuously as she mounts the wind,

Crashing waves of sound boom across the landscape,

Echoing off the nearby hills,

Higher and higher she soars, whipping throught the mists,

Finally to soar on the warm updrafts of mountain air;

The horseman watches, his eyes pinched with hate,

Knowing that this hour, this place should be destiny,

Wishing, praying it never had to be,

Clouded visions come to him of the village he loves,

The screams of the dying, the groans of the maimed,

Torn asunder by the beast from hell, the dragon;

The creature turns, casting rays of light off its hide,

The emerald and gold colors kaleidoscope out,

Making a dazzling jewel of a monstrous thing,

A gem of beauty bringing the darkness of the grave,

It plummets towards the dale where the knight awaits,

And in its heart of ebony lurks a void of coldness;

A warrior of his people, and proud,

He takes this solemn duty and prepares for battle,

His shield of polished steel, his true-tempered sword,

A horse of unsurpassed strength and noble carriage,

All combine to form an army of one with a single goal,

Total destruction of the living death of his people;

Wings beating fast and boiling through the air,

Eyes blazing like volcanic eddies of molten rock,

Talons as long as blades, and sharper than diamond,

All bent to one purpose, the death of one who disturbs it,

No thought of why the man comes, only that he has,

And coming, the man will pay with his delicious life;

The great knight is ready and has prayed to his God,

For the strength and courage to not falter in this place,

He pulls from its hiding his weapon of ultimate death,

And places it in the socket molded into his fine saddle,

A spear of steel, braced for impact, fully ready to kill,

To bring down with one stroke of God, the demon of air;

Coming in low and moving fast the winged creature flies,

Above the warrior’s covered head, cyclone winds rip by,

The moving mass of wondrous light missing with its claws,

Soaring back up for another pass with only muddy clods,