Part 12 of the collection of dragon poems from the old website.
In this post, we feature the poems of Ogden Nash, Syntage, The Book of Lismore, Karen Brown, and an unknown poet.
This post marks the end of the poetry transferred from the previous site.
- The Tale of Custard the Dragon by Ogden Nash
- untitled by Syntage
- Untitled by an unknown druid
- When the Skies Danced by Karen Brown
- When Dragons Ruled the Skies by unknown
Check out more dragon poems on the site.
1. The Tale of Custard the Dragon
Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.
Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.
Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.
Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.
Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.
But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.
The pirate gaped at Belinda’s dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn’t hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.
Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.
Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.
By Ogden Nash
Bio: Frederic Ogden Nash was an American poet well known for his light verse, of which he wrote over 500 pieces. With his unconventional schemes with rhyming, he was declared the country’s best-known producer of humorous poetry.
……i dream of the butterfly…!…..and exist as the dragon that surrounds you in your nest, manifesting an imaginary wall that makes you stop for just one moment, allowing that which truly moves to realize itself within you where you sit!….it is us, which is you, that feels me!….i shall now soar!….and watch as you roam freely, while your essence stays still, to contemplate such wonders!….
©….written by syntage…alien z….
Homepage: Syntage / Twitter
“Why lies the mighty dragon here let him knoweth tell,
with its head to the land, and its huge tail near the shore
of the fair loch nell?
And here the mighty god was known
in Europe’s early morn
And worship knew, on Celtic ground,
with harp and drum and horn.
So here the surpent lies in pride
Such hoary tales confess,
But rears his mighty head no more
By the shores of fair Loch Ness.”
~ The Book of Lismore
by an unknown druid, 500B.C.
contributed by Juston Zieglerif
4. When the Skies Danced
Have you watched the skies dance with light?
Heard the thunder more like a roar?
For ‘tis on such a moonlit night
That one may give heed to dragon lore.
When a million stars twinkle and bow
To the forked tongues and fiery lash
Of Dragons soaring ‘neath Hecate’s brow
While like waves, the clouds boom and crash.
Yet many may never accept the fact
Of beasts living among the clouds
They prefer to accept them with evil’s pact
At home behind Hades dark shrouds.
Nay, I’ve not witnessed their winged flight
Nor seen them from here on the ground
But I can imagine their great might
Might harbor in the cloud’s white mound.
So next time you’re touched by the sky
Or watch the clouds move on the wind
Think to yourself that dragons do fly
They’re just not seen by the eyes of men.
~ © Karen Brown
Submitted 23rd June 2003
– poet’s first poem concerning dragons –
5. When Dragons Ruled the Skies
“The times’s long gone” the old man said.
“You’ve come too late, my son.
You’ll see them not in this sad age, their time is long since done
A hundred years ago and more, they’ve been gone from this land.”
His voice was tough but his voice said “Aye lad I understand.”
For I had sailed ‘cross half a world to seek the fabled isles
Where I had heard that dragon wings still soared across the skies.
“You must have come from far indeed,” he said with knowing eyes.
“The word has gone afar and wide that they have left our skies.
“Sit down a while, young lad. Let me tell you a tale
Of dragons streaming down the wind, sunlight bright on their scales
A tale my grandfather told me when I was but a lad,
For I too know the dragon’s draw, I’d fain not leave you sad.”
And so I sat down at his feet, upon a tuft of grass,
And listened as he spun a tale of beasts of gold and brass,
With scales brighter than minted coin, wings glinting in the sun,
Higher by far than eagles soar Dragons were wont to run.
He told of glory greater far than any work of men,
Of wisdom born in aeons past and held in trust since then.
His eyes were bright with boyhood’s gleam as dusk crept down the sky,
I knew he heard an older voice, from when he, just like I,
Had sat and listened to the tale, hanging on every word
From one who might have seen it true, in a more wondrous world
He told it as much for himself as he told it for me
For his heart knew the yearning too those golden wings to see.
At last his tale drew to a close and with one breath we sighed
Imagining a brighter age before the wonder died
When unicorns roamed in the woods and giants still were seen
And mountain valleys echoed with the griffon’s fearless scream
When wizards walked upon the earth with magic in their eyes
When elves lived side by side with men and Dragons ruled the skies.
“Well that’s the tale” he said at last. “My grandpa told to me
He said he saw with his own eyes their wings over the sea
The day they flew into the west never again to fly
Above the hills of this green isle.” He heaved a heavy sigh
And said to me “Well I must go, the sun is nearly set
My wife will have the dinner done, and home’s a long walk yet
Perhaps you’ll come and eat with us? There’s plenty to go ’round.”
Though his offer sore tempted me, I stood and looked around
Then politely I did decline — “I too must go,” said I
And he gave me a knowing look, and briefly caught my eye
I turned and walked back down the hill, towards the little town
That slumbered quietly ’round the bay where I had come aground.
Back to my skiff I made my way, and raised the sail once more
And with the sunset on my face, I turned my back to shore
Ahead lay naught but open sea, I saw no hint of land
But still I set the tiller with a firm and steady hand
For somewhere to the west they soar and westward my course lies,
‘Till I have found the fabled land where Dragons rule the skies.
Now I have sailed ten thousand leagues and I’ll sail many more
And storm and wreck I’ll gladly brave as I have braved before
Though empty is the open sea and bitter winter’s storms
Emptier still’s a dreamless soul and crueler is the scorn
Of those who do not dare to dream and cling to hearth-fire’s glow
I left them without looking back many a year ago.
So now the ocean is my road all through the starlit night
‘Till the sun rises at my back and in the dawn’s grey light
I see an island long and low a half day’s sail away
Hid under heavy looming clouds not yet lit by the day
Yet as dawn brightens in the sky I see a sudden gleam
As the sun’s first ray glances from a circling seabird’s wing.
But surely no bird could be seen as far afield as this
And no feather could ever gleam so bright in dawn’s first kiss
Another shines and still a third, a spark of golden fire
From thirty leagues I see them climb soaring higher and higher
Surely nothing but dragon’s scale could so brazenly shine
As they thunder into the air in beauty near divine.
I see them clearly though my eyes are filled with tears of joy
For finally I’ve found the dream I first dreamed as a boy
My skiff fair flies across the waves, her bow spits spindrift foam
Though never have I seen this shore, I feel I’m coming home
And overhead the sky is gold and glory fills my eyes
The crystal air is wonder pure
And Dragons Rule The Skies.
Slightly edited by Jess @ Dragonsinn
From: Dragon Lady’s Library (defunct tripod site)
Jess Chua has been webmistress of Dragonsinn since 1999.
She works in the online writing/editing field. She enjoys art books, taking care of her pets and plants, and playing Diablo III.
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