The Dragon Deficit - Poem by Denis Martindale
When George the Dragon Slayer slept,
Reliving how he fought,
He often woke and often wept,
As if it all meant nought...
For gone the chance for future fame,
With no more dragons left
And part of him thought that a shame,
In fact, he felt bereft!
When he arose to greet the day,
He wondered what to do...
No beasties round to block his way
Or beat him black and blue!
No bravery to call upon,
No maidens in distress,
The sun above so bright it shone,
No storm, just happiness...
The children played in safety still,
The tweety birds still sang,
His stomach now no longer ill,
In fear of dragon's fang!
His sword he dragged, upon the ground,
It carved his tale of woe...
Monotony was all around!
What next? He didn't know...
The villagers paid him no heed,
His champion day had past,
His body healed, no more to bleed,
As if the die were cast!
'Is this how I must spend my days? '
He ask the Lord above...
'No dragons left for me to face?
No maidens left to love? '
Thus George left every so-called friend,
To travel distant lands,
His search for dragons didn't end...
He didn't stand a chance!
They're gorn! Extinct! They're trophies now...
Teeth scattered here and there,
To which damned sorcerors still bow
And witches grind and share!
Old George, his sword, laid down one night,
The last night of his life...
In his last dream, two dragons fight,
Yet win despite the strife!
Then God reached down to lift George high,
For Jesus to embrace...
With George no longer asking, 'Why? '
As they stood face-to-face...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
This is what happened after the Saint George poem.
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