Hello. My name is Andrew. I am 13 years old, have been writing poetry for about 3 years. I take great pride in my poetry and I know for a fact other people do too. So, without further adieu, here is my poem.

The Dragon's Soul

On that hill,
I did see,
A dragon. And beautiful was he,
And then I saw that dragon fall,
As if he just,
Couldn't bear it all.

Then on that hill,
Stood that evil knight,
But his battle cry,
Was cut short,
For the dragon's soul,
Rose into the air,
With an angry snort.

That dragon's soul,
Flew unto me,
With vengeful intentions,
With all the power we now shared,
There was no need for pitiful human inventions.

I gladly accepted,
This dragon's gift,
And my weak human body,
Began away to drift.

My skin turned to scales,
My hair to a pair of horns,
My hands and feet to paws,
My nails to claws,
Sharper than the sharpest sword.

My face turned,
Into a snout,
It grew 24" out!
My teeth grew into daggers,
And now that pitiful knight staggers.

My eyes were once,
A grayish blue,
My pupils dark as pits.
Now my eyes,
Are a bright silver,
My pupils 5" slits.

A 9' tail,
Grows from my back,
My scales are,
A deep gold,
None of them,
Hanging slack.

As I stretched,
My 50' wings,
That knight ran,
So fast his,
Armor sings.

When I leaped,
From my perch,
For that knight,
My eyes did search.

I saw his little form,
Running on the ground,
I almost fell,
When the dragon's body,
Was what else I found.

I was filled,
With such rage,
I threw stronger magic,
Than a first class mage.
But I missed the knight,
I missed the knave.

I flew harder,
And was above,
The malicious martyr.

I stayed above him,
For about a mile,
Then I dove,
With a vengeful smile.

I looked down on the knight,
With an evil scorn,
I'd make him wish,
He'd never been born.

I picked him up,
With my mouth,
Threw him around,
And tossed him south.

When I met him there,
I was more angry,
Than a wounded bear.

Then I dropped him,
To the ground,
His armor made,
A clanking sound.

He just lay there,
Perfectly still,
His arms didn't move,
His body just stay there.

I started to chant,
A fiery spell,
Spirits began to rant,
The fire got a charry smell.

I fired my blast,
That knight knew,
That this vision,
Was his last.

Now I've avenged,
That poor dragon's death,
Now I controlled,
His fiery breath.

On that hill,
I did see,
A dragon. And beautiful was he.
And now that dragon and I,
One are we.

Copyright 2002 by Andrew Hayes