top of page

The Eyes of the Beholder

Eyes of the Beholder
00:00 / 03:40

Her skin is rough
Alligator tough.
Shades of Blue
Come into view.
As her wings
with the wind sings.

Her muscles ripple and wave.
Her memories of love she saves.
Her heart is of pure gold.
Her spirit sassy and bold.

She will guard thy back,
Defend thy honor under attack.
Her life she will give,
If in her heart ye live.

Razor sharp are her teeth.
Breath of fire form a wreath.
Her claws swords of steel.
Her dimension very real.

Humans--her beauty they do not see.
Most possess little if any integrity.
They never look beyond her outer shell,
Preferring to put them selves in hell.

Inspiring the fatal wrath;
Invoking her learned craft.
In evolution she moves toward,
Ever changing, going forward.

To a time of love and peace--
Where she will find her final release.

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.



Author's Note: This poem was a self portrait of my alter ego to a certain degree for the prompt: Describe in a poem or short story something you find to be beautiful, that would not necessarily be considered so by others.

Below is the poem my Professor, friend, tutor, mentor, devils advocate and manager at both of my forums, (Dragon Blue's Poetry), wrote in response to mine. I stand corrected and he does me much honor. I have posted it here with his permission.


Blue In Flight

O'er the setting sun gracefully on winds uplifting,
Her wings unfurled against sinking sun's wind slipping,
So gently does she part the twilight time,
This Dragon of blue who speaks in rhyme...
Her glide descends, then she disappears behind the hill,
But I fear not, for to catch a glimpse of her again -I will!
As in heaven's lights I'm lost by wonder,
Staring at crystal points that cause me to ponder
While silver'd moon ascends casting beams asunder,
Her image crosses sky while in my thoughts I wander.
I hear a rustling of the dry Felled leaves;
I know 'tis not the cooling season's breeze,
But evil scurrying as in panic he flees
Against the forked branches of wise oak trees.
He darts here then slithers there; then claws at rock in fearful fright;
Her sharp eyes pierce him for he can not stand her sight.
From her nostrils flared come jagged, flashing streaks
As Thor's thunderous hammer strikes and quickly repeats.
Against his grasping, wicked greed her power reigns;
Her pen sharp talons its plague contains.
A moaning, groaning foul sounding rasp
Is heard as darkness yields its death rattled gasp.
I look Eastward toward Daybreak's glowing light;
I gaze at winging, majestic shape of dragon in my sight
That signs safe passing through the dark of night.
Content am I at soaring rite of might in flight.
A whispered voice touches ear on morning breeze
As circling vision enchants with subtle pleas:
"Cast off your chains, one below; It shall be seen:
The beauty of thy mother's ocean blue and forest green.
Arise! shake off sleep's opiate to boldly face the day
And fly with me trustingly, for I do know the way!"

In raptured visions beats a fiery ruby heart it seems....
Or is it just a poet's illusion of Love's most perfect dreams?

A. Charles Roger
September 30, 2006


Thank you Professor.

bottom of page