2. Legend Of The Red Sun Village: Tales From The Sake Dragon - Attack Of The Diamond Dragon Poem by Mark Swaine

The Fire Swifts arrive in the Village with
crackling wings flapping urgent news.
Flying a circle round the Watchman
telling a story of dread with flaming streaks
forming Caligraphy with their flaring tails.
Warming the crisp morning air, with a message of dread,
They warn the watchman about an enemy they share.
Their chirpings become tired,
the children of the missing Phoenix are weak and frail,
For the journey was long, they ignite into nothing.
From a distant dying song.

Silence is golden but the dragon is silver,
Shining scales flicker and flap,
Into the perfect blue and disappear,
Into the white giant fluffy clouds.
Suddenly a night wave from the ocean
Drops out from the afternoon sky,
Wings fold back on the still faraway beast,
But can clearly see
It has taken the form of a Sai.
The Watchman leaps backwards onto the tallest hut
As the villagers open lying doors,
That dropp dead into the ground,
The Diamond dragon roars with hate,
As it swoops further down.
Flying level towards him at an impossible speed,
Fierce red eyes level with the watchman’s,
Snarling for its feed dripping sparkles of sliver.
With only seconds to spare,
The master of Shurikan flicks two from his belt.
Both fly parallel,
Delivering much peril to the dragons sight.
Screaming shrill with pain, unable to see,
Watchman unsheathes his Katana Xan Li,
A soul he swears he’ll find a way to free.
With a swift movement,
As the beast passes by,
He claims its head showered in blood,
Stanced on a toe, balanced by a high knee.
This was the work of the Demon King, the wizard,
Only those with spells and potions
Have the power to command or bribe,
A treasure guarding lizard.

The protector meditates hard
And senses an evil doer close,
He calls upon the 'Watchmen' of old
And his father the ghost.
His eyes snap open knowing
This twisted illusionist spreads fear
To those who embrace life the most.
Sparring blind with his lover,
They train their five senses,
To strengthen another.
A month passes to reveal
A ten foot figure on the hill.
Cloaked and hooded in black,
Striding through the fog,
Livestock scatter,
Evil approaches says the frothing deep snarl,
Of a fat, flat faced dog.
The figure stops and feels strength in the air,
It slowly turns back his hood.
He shows his white face,
Empty of blood.
Dim yellow eyes hold no remorse,
The watchman meditates by candles and sword,
Angry in waiting at this evil rising force.
He is stirred by the vision
Of an ear to ear grin,
His ancestors speak in whispers gently blowing candles
“Be careful, there is old evil in him”


N: Below is a link that will take you directly to half of my Novel partially based on this short Poem http: //dayofthedeadlegendoftheredsunvillage.blogspot.com/