Where do dragonflies go to die
Is there a tiny Avalon somewhere in the sky
Will there be tiny Pygmy riders on aerial gliders
Is there truly peace for such an ancient fighter
The halls of Valhalla shall ring with names of miniature beast
From lightning feats of speed to pausing mid-air to eat
Engaging from every angle, yes, they could see the entire attack
But at times a dragon is only as good as the rider on it’s back
Yes Valkyries and Pygmies all lined up at the gates
Universes are twinkling like wishes aligning warrior’s fates
The heat of the battle forever riding upon their hearts
Riders upon dragonflies forever waiting for the Styx to part
Used as Moses’s rod, no more than tiny versions of Pegasus
With tiny versions of Bellerophon riding, both ready to bust
Darting in and out, but are they ready for an attack on the gods
Is this a suicide mission, or could both rider and mount be this hard
Thunderbolts at the ready, Olympia has finally decided to unite
Pygmies disguised as Zulus entering their very last fight
The elves spoke of a time long ago when this was tried
When dragonflies betrayed warriors in battle, but did the elves lie
Can true freedom ever be conquer, can you cage an opened mind
Dragonflies in sync with nature, not riders, just waiting for the sign
Horns blare as hall doors flew open and falling riders realize elves never lie
Like Bellerophon falling back to earth they all whispered, where do dragonflies go to die
I love this. The image of them getting ready for battle and how you gave us the view of Valhalla and the God’s.
Welcome to Stars Rite I_is Me.
Thank you, thank you Lady it’s nice to be here and to write something
You posted one my favorite poems. You know how much I adore this.
It’s like watching an enchanted battle, just like the lovely poetess Fia said…their twinkling lights transforming the landscape into a magical land, Pygmy riders riding on their backs…I’m lost in the wonder of it all every time I read it. Your poem does more than bring back the nostalgia of childhood, it transports me to the mythical place of dreams and hope, inspiration and escape.
Plus, it makes me wonder what you’re smoking when you look out your window and we’re messaging.
Your comment truly out did the piece and made it worth the writing. Hahaha, now what are we twisting while writing, honestly most times there is no twist. We have a serious fear of plagiarism, so definitely no music and only occasionally twisting while writing. Thanks you Lady