Around this time of year we have hundreds, maybe thousands of dragonflies careening through the air at our home. They are fascinating to watch as they zoom back and forth consuming the prey that we cannot see. This poem was my imaginative exercise, a myth or fable, about how the Dragon Fly came to be and is the first poem of my poetry book – The Last Dragon and Other Poems published in 2022.

The Last Dragon

Up in the mountains,
Black as green,
Lived the Last Dragon,
Old and mean.
Beneath him, wealth untold,
Diamonds, silver, and pure gold.

Fire in his eyes,
And razors for teeth,
Thick scales as armor,
Daggers ‘neath his feet.
Helmets and broken swords there lay,
Bones, brave, knights of yesterday.

For years uncounted,
He pillaged the land,
Hoarding treasure,
And killing every man.
His raging greed knew no end,
Precious pile neither to give nor spend.

Those who escaped,
Weary of watching for the worm,
Would drop their guard,
Only to see him return.
Back to his deep dark lair,
Treasure, body, soul through the air.

A cry went out,
To all the land’s end,
Who will deliver us,
Who can contend?
To the one who ends this reign,
Gold, fortune, endless fame.

Men from beyond,
The furthest sea,
Came to fight,
The wretched beast.
Mere strength could not prevail,
Nor escape the dragon’s tail.

With sword in hand,
And shield upon arm,
They went to the mountain,
To do the beast harm.
Prince and peasant both fell,
Destroyed, defeated by the dragon’s evil spell.

Until one day there came,
To this dark and desperate land,
A fair and noble prince,
With no sword beneath his hand.
And all the people in the town,
Prayed, pleaded, - please turn around.

On he strode toward the beast,
Climbing higher still,
Disappearing soon enough,
Upon that wretched hill.
Awake the beast lie in wait,
Death, deceptive, sleep till at the very gate

“Enter O Man,
You will find no harm,
My age has taken a toll,
And my words have lost their charm.”
Words or thoughts t’was hard to tell,
Wind, whisper, wickedness in that cell.

“I promise you no fire,
For my flame is growing weak,
And I have not the desire,
to pin you in my teeth.”
The Prince stepped into the lair,
Smoke, stench, serpent waiting there

“A strange Prince I see,
Without a sword or shield,
To face old Avarice,
And attempt to force a yield.”
The dragon moved off his pile and away,
Glitter, good, gold the prince’s heart to sway.

“Tis a pretty pile,
One must confess,
But to me it has no worth,
Except to make my nest.”
The dragon watched his eyes,
Many, men, moved to want that prize.

“Since I am old and weak,
And you no knife or stave,
Let us play a game,
For the spoils in this cave.”
Truth be known to all,
Greedy, game, guaranteed the fall.

“A riddle I will ask,
And if you answer this,
I do hereby swear,
That I’ll grant you one wish.”
The bones upon the floor,
Heeded, hungered, heard those words before.

“Speak serpent,
Unleash thy tongue,
For by it,
You will come undone.”
The noble man took one step in,
Greed, greatness, games begin.

“It’s dead on the outside,
Yet alive within,
But only in darkness,
Can life begin.
Guess these words and gain a wish,
Falter, flee, or fail and become a tasty dish.”

“I want it all,”
They all had said,
Only to find it wished,
Upon their very head.
Every man for ages past,
Covered, crushed, consumed by that precious mass.

No need for the dragon,
To fight or defend.
They would make the wish,
And he’d give it to them.
They wanted it all,
Silver, gold, jewels would fall.

“A seed,” said the man,
“And now my wish.
The wish I wish to wish
is this.”
The dragon waited with ancient pride,
Wish, wish, wish and die.

“Dear Avarice,
Listen to this,
I want nothing,
But to give you my wish.”
The noble Prince stood his ground,
Rumbling, thundering, laughter low, low down.

“Foolish man,
Don’t you see,
You have given,
All to me.”
Enchanted treasure will still cower,
Humble, heavy, hiding ‘neath the one who gave it power.

“Your wish I will gladly take,
With it I will wish for all,
More treasure, more jewels,
More and more to fill this hall.”
The Last Dragon uttered the wish,
“More, more, more for Avarice!”

The words echoed,
Off the cavern wall,
With strength unbounded,
Not growing small,
The beast confounded,
Unable to withdrawal.

The precious pile grew,
In the eyes of Avarice,
In the other’s it withdrew,
At the feet of the noble prince.

And what both saw was true.

For the dragon shrank in size,
As the echo carried on,
And in his spellbound eye,
The precious pile grew on.

The dragon now so small,
Would fit upon thy hand,
Could hurt none at all.

Before the echo ceased,
The Last Dragon shrank in size.

And he became - a dragonfly.

In the end,
He did get more,
A world that was larger,
Than ever before.
More is just what he received,
More, more, more in how it was perceived.

He did get more,
Two extra wings,
And two extra legs,
There in between.
And instead of two eyes fiery red,
Hoarding, hexagonal, hundreds on his head.

The treasure in that cave,
Now belongs to no man.
It was all turned to dust,
And mixed with sparkling sand.
It lies along the beach and sea,
Sand, silver, shining for all to see.

So when you see a dragonfly,
Think of the Last Dragon old and mean.
Think of how his life changed,
Because of all his endless greed.
Before you utter a wish for more,
Calm, counsel, consider what may lie in store.

The love of treasure may crush you,
Or it may make you small,
Unless you’re like Prince Caritas,
Who emptied that spellbound hall.

More poetry can be found here or in the book The Last Dragon and Other Poems.