The Color of Danger

A dragon’s hue, if it is blue,
Has electricity in its veins.
With that said, if it’s red,
It will bathe the world in flames.

Green dragon’s spit, in a hissy fit,
And poison spews all around.
A frigid white, on a cold summer’s night,
Spreads its hoary frost on the warmest ground.

But fear the black, for they will attack,
It will gnash with teeth and swipe with tail.
Should these attacks miss, beware its hiss--
For acid breath will always prevail.

Hexelplex (revised version 1.2)

His two green eyes are glowing lights of doom
(we love it when green doom dispels dark gloom.)
A doom that sounds soft like a waterfall,
and looks like a green alien baseball.
A doom that's fuzzy to a child's touch,
and smells of roses, lilacs, grass and such.
A doom that tastes sweet like hot chocolate
(far sweeter than a dragon will admit.)

He's dwelt under your beds since he was young
poo-pooing cocao's taste to his forked tongue
(but why must dragons' tongues be long and forked?
why not, instead, spooned, or knived, or sporked?)
Tarnations! Child of what do you speak?
A spooned-forked tongue makes for an odd physique.
So odd that he would not be fit to say
"So sings sweet Sally's sister songs that sway."

The smoky black dragon of happiness
so softly sleeps atop his glittering hoard...
Huh, what? I failed to mention the gold bed
that's worthy of a hulking dragon lord?
They're nuggets dear-- that fill your cavaties--
the golden stuffs that dentists like to use.
Old Hexelplex will nab your fallen teeth
while in the darkest night you snore and snooze.

Though Hexelplex seems scary in our youth
in truth he is the fairy of the tooth.

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Okay, this is revision two...and it's a modified sonnet (so to speak.) I'm still not quite sure what final form it will make. I will craft it as a villanel next, or maybe a ghazal. I just know that it's getting closer, but some lines will have to go to make room for my important new idea: the tooth fairy is really a smoke dragon.

I'm not thrilled with the last stanza. It broke the rhyme scheme of the first two, and really came out like a train wreck. Well...I guess that's why I call it "a work in progress."

Hexeplex

His green eyes, the glowing orbs of doom--
…and who doesn’t love a little doom?
Doom that sounds soft like a roaring waterfall.
Doom that looks hideously hilarious in a smock.
Doom so soft to the touch.
Doom smelling of roses and lavender.
Doom that tastes sweet like warm buttermilk--
that sweet taste that smells of acid and fire.

Hexelplex lives in the darkness under beds,
and buttermilk falls sour on his forked tongue.
Why do dragons sport forked tongues?
Why not, instead, spooned tongues?
Tarnations, child!
A beast with a spooned tongue
could never fit under your bed.
But dems is da berries, as they say.

The smoky black dragon of happiness
sleeps softly on his hoard.
Shall I mention the pile of gold and gems,
the bed upon which he soundly sleeps?
He sleeps, he giggles, he bathes, he plays
in deep piles of the lovely lucre.
“But Nanny” the children all ask,
From where does he get his gold?”
“The gold will come from your mouths one day,
My little poppets” I answer.
They all laugh maliciously at the thought.

Make no mistake,
Hexeplex will come from under your bed
and steal the gold fillings from your teeth.
“Asi es la vida.” He will say,
and only your nightstand will see
his bat-like wings shiver as he sneaks.
But the image of his green eyes
will forever burn in the darkness of your dreams.

MORE POETRY FOR NANNY TOGGLEBOTTOM'S HANDBOOK OF MAGICAL CREATURES, MYTHICAL MEN, AND OTHER FANTASTICAL FAIRYLAND FRIENDS.

Here are the latest entries for the book:


PEACOCK PARADE

Sloppy sweet saccharine
sighs slip softly
from lading lounging languidly
along Lembas’ longest lane.

Knights nod knowingly
with nonchalance,
while horses hoove and hie
their haughty highness

Plumeria petals plummet from
perched parade-watchers,
as wily warriors wend westward
to wage and win a war.


DRAGON BARDS

Dragons have no sense of time
when they sits on their horde
and singing funny rhymes...

...that is to say...

That they have no brevity
in their levity


and finally...


GREGORY GRYFFON

His beak so strong,
his claws so sharp,
his wings spread wide and sure.

His glassy gold eyes
are windows to see
his heart so noble and pure.

NANNY TOGGLEBOTTOM'S HANDBOOK OF MAGICAL CREATURES, MYTHICAL MEN, AND OTHER FANTASTICAL FAIRYLAND FRIENDS.

I have been writing, in my little (off-line) notebook, a series of poems. I call them "Nanny Togglebottom's Book of Magical Creatures, Mythical Men, and other Fantastical Fairyland Friends." Initially I wanted to write a book about dragons, but that thas expanded to a series of children's poems about all of the wonderful magic that enters a child's mind.

I have already posted one of the poems (The Ballad of Wallace Thaddeus Linkletter posted in April 2008), and as I move poems from my old-school notebook to my Encyclopedia Bob, I wll post them as well. For now, here is Nanny Togglebottom's Invitation:

I have seen dragons
crossing the noon day sun—
Have you?

I have seen leprechauns
with their gold on the run—
Have you?

No? Well…

Inside my head
fairies fly,
monsters grumble,
and unicorns cry.

I will open my stories,
I will open them wide.
For the price of your company
I will let you inside.