II. Nature and Seasonal
Dragons speak through the changing seasons or nature’s elements, from ferocious storms to a gentle breeze.
Part of the Ruinkeeper dragon poetry collection.
Poems in this quadrant:
– Grovebound
– rain
– Seasons 1.0
– Seasons 2.0
– vetr
– Fire & Ice
– Where the River Flows
– Gossamer
– Mossbound
– The Windbone Pilgrim
– Asylum
– forest tangle
Available in an eBook, audio narration via YouTube, and below here on Dragonsinn.
݁.𖠰 ݁↟
1. eBook (PDF)
2. YouTube
Will be narrated soon.
3. Poems
1. Grovebound
The earth is cool beneath my toes
As others go where the wind blows
The draclings sing a merry tune
Tending a fire at this ancient forest rune
I find my beloved in the grove
Loveliest gem in our treasure trove
We dragon kin lingered there all summer long
Star-gazing with each other through dance and song
⋆˚꩜｡
2. rain
grey mist like a lurking dragon’s plume of smoke
tear-stained windows after a wind dragon’s late night rampage
a fine misty rain, high above the dragon’s hidden cavern
raindrops on the window, calico kitten curled up beside a pink dragon plush
cracks on glistening tarmac — battle-weary dragon’s underbelly
a glimpse of sunrise over the charred dragon’s rock
⋆˚꩜｡
3. Seasons 1.0
SPRING
Emerald hills and daffodils
Sun glitter as
her mist-kissed wings
unfold.
Caressing the land with a
gentle warmth the
colour of happiness
earth stirring
with a familiar
returning
song.
SUMMER
Hot air rising from the
Tarmac, mini mirage as
ice-creams melt.
Kids shrieking, taking a dip
in the lake to cool off
Blissfully unaware — trespassing on the
water dragon’s hideout from the
burning sun — heavy thunderstorm
forming just on
the
horizon.
AUTUMN
Red and golden leaves
Swirl, caught in a dance as the
Dragon unfurls. An
essence of light and candor,
unbound by earthen
ashes as he rises to
the topmost branches
before he leaves and
all the trees will be
but
bare.
WINTER
Meandering and roaming
up the northern coastline, as it
breathed frost over
brittle tree bones.
Its ghostly talons sweeping through
the forest in the dead of night
All wrapped up, underground, or
hiding under the covers
The sun long gone
before
morn.
⋆˚꩜｡
4. Seasons 2.0
SPRING 2.0
Cherry blossoms
the rush of a new romance —
him, wanting to jump
all in
all logic out the window
She gently guided him back
took him under her wing
Reminding him to take it slow
get to know
for quality
over quantity.
SUMMER 2.0
“We’ll go where no man has gone before!”
He laid out blueprints
plans to rein in
the sky’s fireball
“We’ll seize the galaxy’s throne!”
The dragon god emerged
to swallow
man and machine whole —
there was only room
for one
sovereign sun.
AUTUMN 2.0
You’re over the hill, they said
You need to get married
Now or never
She mulled it over, strolling
Never was a walk in the park
The dragon paused his play
with the dead leaves
to let her pass, deep in thought —
Would she choose freedom? Or dull her senses
to settle
for convenience.
WINTER 2.0
It hid and watched
in cold silence — the killer
covered up his misdeed
in cold blood.
Its whitehot fangs seized his
Soul before he could go
Keeping him off the street
Ending his streak of adding
another bone to his
collection with
morbid affection.
⋆˚꩜｡
5. vetr
crisp air
nothingness encased
cold blast down your lungs
deep in the ice cavern
a warmth aglow
guarding precious lair
from terrain and foe
what do you do
when there’s nowhere to go
lay still and lie low
until the winds blow
no more
keeping you in his cavern
till your bones and flesh are
no more.
⋆˚꩜｡
6. Fire/Ice
You sent flame-scripted vows
beneath the promise of a new dawn.
Now brittle, charred,
ashes scattered
in what we left behind.
Every confession
uttered in heat or ecstasy
vanished into smoke
once the spell broke for you.
I swept the cold remains
of your dreamscape
(those broken scales of a future
you never learned to carry)
locked in a chamber
frozen by time
forsaken.
You wore your pride
like armour stitched in flame,
assigning the queen
to your dragon throne of blame.
The script you wrote
would have consumed me,
folding me into rubble
to burn beside you.
But I turned inward,
a young dragoness
answering an ancient call.
No crown.
No collapse.
Just venom,
and the cold trace of
my name across your lips.
⋆˚꩜｡
7. Where the River Flows
He always returned to the river,
alone as a boy
wandering the stones
as water cascaded over them.
He battled imaginary beasts,
told a few souls about the dragon he saw:
“It’s always there — beneath the shadow of the reeds.”
They’d nod and smile,
then drift back to their own needs after a while.
He kept returning as a teenager,
lonely, adrift,
tracing the edges
where the current soothed
his tension.
He battled heartache and betrayals,
confided in the river dragon:
“It’s always there — this ache that never leaves.”
The dragon would nod without protest
and give him a warm place to rest.
He returned again as a young man,
wandering deeper,
where the water flowed over paths
others had walked before.
He battled less imaginary foes
of capitalism, greed,
the soulless grind of concrete days:
“It’s always there — this longing to leave.”
The dragon asked sincerely,
“Are you ready?”
He said yes, this time.
Not with impulse,
but with knowing certainty.
So dragon and boy,
bound by years of truth,
set forth
on their escape.
Not to be seen,
but to live
the kind of adventure
most would never find.
⋆˚꩜｡
8. Gossamer
I was sixteen fathoms below
Almost buried in grey
Nights and days a blur
Here today, swallowed by another year
Until a fairy dragon with her delicate wings
Untethered flight with invisible grace
Found me in my hollow haze
Gently leading me to a pastel place
Where the sun was warm and didn’t burn
Where the water flowed fresh and clear over ancient stone
Where no one meant me harm
Where the breeze blew kind and gentle
Where I could just look up
To admire Draco in the far north
Or map new constellations
With nothing weighing down my soul
⋆˚꩜｡
9. Mossbound
I. Stone Guardian Speaks
Sometimes I’d see her from a mile away
scuffed knees from climbing the hill
small hands gripping my stone wings
pausing for breath
looking up as if I might speak.
If I could, I would’ve said:
“Many come here to cry,
and to pour out their misery.
May you have better days gone by —
eat well, live well, be happy.”
II. Weekly Petitions
No one warns you how you’re
suddenly expected to get everything right —
school, relationships, money, job, family.
Where am I supposed to be in five years
when I don’t even know where I am today?
I’d beg my mossbound dragon friend weekly:
“Please tell me there’s hope
when it feels like everything’s falling apart.
When anxiety takes hold, how do I cope
when I don’t know where to start?”
III. Stone Guardian Watches
Moon phases turned into years.
She came and went
sometimes with a friend
some were good, and some just weren’t.
The hypermania of youth softened
after her first Saturn return.
She sat in silence more often.
I’d whisper:
“Not everything burns bright and fast
With or without a shadowed past.”
IV. Companion in the Wings
As more moss grew over my stone dragon friend
I used to worry at first, that he looked
Sickly or in disrepair
But he became less of a fantasy oracle
and more of a reliable companion.
Someone who almost whispered
old truths or new revelations.
Once I thought I heard him say:
“Even if you’re alone,
“Scars still heal, like moss over stone.”
⋆˚꩜｡
10. The Windbone Pilgrim
she — windborne
curled around the mountain
collecting lyrical fragments, musical echoes
passing by yet another weary visitor
she strung delicate threads of bone
infused with songs she’d gathered
some memorised, some rearranged
some melancholic, some euphoric
they sometimes saw or felt her
a wing slicing through the clouds
to the most dejected, she left trinkets in
satchels, whispering unsaid wonders
he — earthbound
a young prince cloaked in disguise
wandering through meandering towns
each one rendering him a little more invisible
he felt something slip into his rucksack
something light that also hummed
a good luck charm
he had lost years ago
it was a sweet melody
that noticed the burdens he carried
without asking where he was going
or what his next move might be
he felt her nearby, often
as they crossed valleys and cloud-veiled cliffs
one sharing what she saw
the other held by dragonsong.
⋆˚꩜｡
11. Asylum
I. The Forgotten
no one in polite circles
talks about this place
empty beds strewn
that once housed over a thousand patients
called “unwell”
or simply inconvenient
some were children
called too agitated, too hyper
ask the walls
they remember
the procedures, the concealment,
names faces lives erased
in this once lavish building
now sprawling in decay
still housing
lost souls left behind
II. The Watch
AM—
i fly through broken beams
sweep dust from halls of memory
letting just enough sunlight in
to warn the living
stray adventurers wandering in
the floors aren’t secure
i whisper: not today
PM—
the yobs appear
loud, obnoxious, unaware
we seal the cracks they make
haunting them until
they go away
screaming about a spirit serpent
we lean on each other
through long, unending nights
until one soul feels like
they can let go
they whisper: maybe tonight
III. Release
time brings a bit of change
the city learns of
past wrongdoings
naming the untold suffering
releasing some buried stories
and one by one
tethered souls are delivered
i am the last to leave
to answer the call of the next place
still smothered by grief
one exhale of dissolution
nature takes over
ivy swallows the bricks
a cloud of spores covers the rest
the building relinquishes
crumbling upon itself
⋆˚꩜｡
12. Forest Tangle
I. The Warning
They said not to wander
too far on the side trail
but down I went
a little deeper, a little further,
one step at a time until the trees blurred
roots tangled like inner chaos
and I couldn’t tell which I’d just passed
or which one nearly tripped me.
They said a forest dragon lived here
in the dark canopy’s shadow
where hikers vanished
once every few years
never found,
never seen again.
I wondered:
if I took one wrong step,
would it swallow me whole?
II. The Offering
Moving inward
(or was it round in a circle?)
led me to a willow
its branches veiled
like a priestess robe
a small box beneath it
marked only by a sign
and an arrow pointing down.
I opened the lid
and saw small items people had left behind —
coins, dried flowers
small folded notes or letters
so I threw in the poem I’d written that morning
about you, in there too
(I didn’t know what to do with it
I wasn’t ready to share it).
I closed the box
put it carefully back on the moss
when I turned around
a dragon glowed in the shadows
and I knew I’d accidentally
walked right into its lair
and maybe right into
its wide-open jaws.
III. The Return
There was no roar
no vortex
just a forcefield nudge
that spat me back
to the trail I’d left
I heard my friends calling my name
“Where’d you go?”
I said I’d been there the whole time.
Put a hand in my pocket
felt a piece of paper
(maybe I daydreamed it all and nothing had happened)
but opened it up
when I got home
it was a short, hopeful poem too
written not in dragonblood or ink
but in your distinct handwriting.
⋆˚꩜｡
3. Seasons 1.0 (Autumn): This was the first seasonal dragon poem I wrote as a teenager in Singapore. Autumn has always been my favourite season, even though we didn’t have four seasons when I was growing up.
4. Seasons 2.0: This was a more conceptual set of seasonal poems to accompany Seasons 1.0 (which explores nature themes in a more traditional way).
5. vetr: “Vetr” is the Old Norse Word for “winter.”
11. Asylum: This was inspired by a castle hospital in Glasgow (you can view some dragon pics from my Glasgow trip here). While I didn’t have time to view it in person, a lot of the imagery stuck with me in terms of the historical setting.
⋆˚꩜｡
Footnote: These were quite relaxing to write since I’ve always enjoyed nature and the environment.
If you like to read general (i.e. non-dragon themed) eco-poetry from the lens of environmental destruction, you can view my chapbook, Make Way for More, that was completed in Fall 2026.