The Dragon


From beneath a mighty dragon’s brow, a single tear doth forms,

Welling up in his aging eyes, this mighty dragon mourns.

Not for loss of lover, but for a lover he could not find,

For he has never known love, being the only of his kind,

The mating larks of springtime they flutter overhead,

As the dragon fills with what if’s . . . deep inside his head,

As darkness falls, it starts to rain, even the heaven’s cry,

He slips back in his empty cave and weeps a firey sigh.

Just there in the distance lost in his own breath,

The vision of a female dragon that scared him near to death,

She vanished though as smoke rings always do,

Oh!  How he wished his vision had been true.

That night while he was dreaming she came to him once more,

This time in a shallow cove upon a foreign shore,

“Come find me,” she called out, “Come join my aging heart,”

He awoke from his slumber thinking, “Where do I start?”

“Just fly away,” his heart cried out, “Go find what you desire.”

“Another dragon to warm your heart, instead of lonely in your lair,”

He sat at the entrance watching the rising sun illuminate,

Then he flew off- skyward bound- to whatever destiny awaits.

He flew without rest, through suns and moons alike,

Determined in his mission, focused on his plight,

Then… there she was on the distance shores of lore,

Bathing in the salty sea, of beauty ever more,

He prepared for his landing, as her eyes were skyward bound,

She was real; she was waiting, with the love he had finally found.

Miranda Bachman

Copyright 2010


The Lone Wolf. . .

Alone it walks…  Alone it stalks.

Looking for a feast, or a similar beast

The protector of its realm,

The wearer of the crown

The unholy king,

Of all nightly things

Born without fear,

This bearer of terror feeds with a mocking leer

Its purpose is to breed,

To survive and feed,

It has no other need,

Except to simply be,

You will never know he is near,

Of him you will not hear,

A howl off in the moonlight,

A shadow out of sight,

For him murder means life,

Your death to him is right.

For no other did he stalk,

But for he alone, who dare to walk!

Miranda Bachman

Copyright 2010


America the melting pot


America the empire,

America the vampire…

Paradise or parasite?

You decide which is right.

The land of the free and the home of the brave,

Was built upon questionable foundations,

Combining the white man’s greed with the black labor of slaves,

and blood from the Indian nations.

It seems, the New World our fore-father’s discovered,

wasn’t new at all and belonged to others.

From the moment European/Indian relations began,

it was a downward spiral for the red man.

Miranda Bachman

Copyright 2010



The Mythical Phoenix

Perched gracefully in a willow tree,

Symbol of the rising sun,

Each of you the only ones

By no mortal eyes have seen, all that you have been,

Time began with your first cries

Giving you your endless lives

A song so melodic that the sun itself takes pause

Cradling creation in your claws

Surviving on mere drops of dew

No creation harmed by you

Gold and scarlet feathers upon your crested brow

Majesty, nearing its end for now

Years long spent watching, from the skies-all you have seen

The all knowing, all seeing observer-ever so keen

The gathering of branches, spices, twigs and myrrh,

The supplies and preparations needed for rebirth

Risen from the coals and ash of pyre still aflame

            Regeneration and rebirth, Phoenix be thy name.

            Miranda Bachman

             Copyright 2010



Time… time on Earth is naught,

Not but a speck on a spot,

Too minute for proper measure,

A span only a human can treasure,

            A sweat taste, soon to be forgot.

            Miranda Bachman 2010




The Holy grail from which Jesus drank

The lost city of Atlantis that is said to have sank

Ethereal churches raised from rubble then returned from whence they came

Mighty rivers cut and carve the landscapes without names

Time has no bearing on the beautiful planet Earth

Humans are the only things who find meaning in times worth.

Miranda Bachman 2010


This free website was made using Yola.

No HTML skills required. Build your website in minutes.

Go to and sign up today!

Make a free website with Yola