akr71
Hero
Frulam Mondath's Poetry
The book says that the papers on Frulam Mondath's desk in the dragon hatchery are mostly "bad poetry about dragons." When my group heard about this, they all laughed hysterically and proceeded to improvise the poems. I present them here for your entertainment.
Roses are red.
Dragons are red.
They breathe fire,
And then you're all dead.
Violets are blue.
Dragons are blue.
My love for them is true.
They breathe lightning,
And then you're dead too.
Black as a dragon.
Black as night.
I don't know the rest,
So I'll end it right.
Snow is white.
Dragons are white.
They're the opposite of night,
And that's all right.
They didn't do a poem for green, so I'll add that one now...
Dragons are green,
If you know what I mean.
When they breathe on the forest,
They make it quite clean.
And here's Frulam Mondath in a more emo vein:
Black!!!
Black night.
Black dragon.
Black acid.
Black me.
Black like my tormented soul.
I made up my own. I didn't want to say "its mostly bad poetry about dragons," cuz I know they would have just said "like what?"
I went out of my way to make it sound cheesy, so here goes:
A white sound shivers
Cascading snowfall soars
A Death into the frost
Fang and wing
Above is beautiful death
Searing death, beautiful flame
Choking death, rising cloud
Icy death, frozen flesh
Sizzling death, raging storm
Raining death, burning swamp
Her majestic agony of five
Wing’s blue beauty
Soar of the Fang
Crackle in the desert
The dragon wings beat
up in the air, like a bird
that can devour you
Deepest deserts where suns forever fly
burn to dust nearly everything,
but their eternal heat cannot hope to dry
the malicious, insidious azure king.