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What poem will I write about?
A poem where I scream and shout?
My train of thought, has screeched to a stop,
And left my mind with writer’s block!
It leads the eagle from its nest,
To drop its catch, to go for its best,
It leaves the nest starved for food,
As the eagle, for food, broods!
Steals the dragon’s fire,
Takes the phoenix flame,
The source of author’s ire,
Constricts the songsmith’s aim!
Steals your thunder, in mid-strike,
Kidnaps your mind and thoughts alike,
When the dragon captures you,
You must save yourself-a daunting rescue!
At the break of day, maiden gone,
Taken in fire and flame at dawn,
The drake flies away, catch in hand,
As arrows meant for killing fall short on the sand!
Ravaged by the loss, your spirits turn grim,
For the dragon will surely be back,
The maiden’s outlook, though, is dim,
Save her, for her body burns black!
First, get your army of thought in line,
During the assault, they frayed like twine,
Cast into chaos by the great dragon’s light,
Rally the troops against this dragon plight!
In the midst of this chaos, the dragon flew away,
It is said he flew off in many different ways,
Each of them assure you their way will not delay,
But which way leads to where the great dragon lay?
You run off on a hunch, run off to the wrong place,
Feeling your time short, the mind begins to race,
Too many ways to run, and far too short of time,
You feel the maiden’s life, slowly become sanguine!
Suddenly, the west sounds the alarm,
The dragon steals peasant, lord, and farm,
It made a mistake, calling the storm,
To those on its trail, they feel it get warm!
You spy the dragon alight to its nest,
You draw your sword to send it to its rest,
But the great old dragon, knowing defeat, flees
Feeling cornered into death, which you do not seize.
You let it go, having attained the award endeavored,
You gaze upon the maiden; she’s changed so slightly ever,
You know the dragon will be back for forevermore,
So long as you, the rhapsodist, continue to make lore!