About the Lady of the Dragons

Me and one of the hatchlings.

Yes, the above is a picture of me. I dream of living in Medival times, but then I turn on my computer and am back in this world. I am a sister to dragons, and feed them off of the back porch. I also love all other animals, and have a dog and a cat and a grey cockatiel. I am grieving over the loss of my beloved Peach-Faced Lovebird, Merlyn(below), whose death caught me unprepared, and only those of you who have birds can understand the lonliness and emptiness that fills me.

I love nearly everything dealing with fantasy, but also enjoy sci-fi. Xena, Hercules, Simpsons, and Gargoyles top my list of what to watch. I love to write and read, take extremely long walks in the woods, and though I love my friends, I like to be alone sometimes with my thoughts. So there you have a little about me, and if you want to know more, E-mail me at darkandlight@hotmail.com.

Merlyn - my first bird who passed away.

Here are some poems I have written. I ask that you enjoy them, but please, do not take them for your own. They are like children.

Here they are... Please, enjoy them.

What is but That	...	To	What are Dreams?
The End of Summer	A Gift	Forgiven	Alone
What is?	Mother-Child	Who is There?	Whole
Guardian of Angels	After The Summer Storm	Everything Eyes	Shattered
Well-read

...or if you would rather try my stories...
The Dragon's Masque	Ashes, Ashes...	Death of the Phoenix	Child of The Flame	A Portfolio of Stories

Also, visit my gallery of Photography.

Alas...so many books...

Well-read

"Enfold me in endsheets,"
my voice riffles,
as I defy the end
of breath.

Eyes that want to close on books
focus
on fictional release
whose miniture worlds encompass
every small reality.

I cram them in like small cakes,
not having time to taste them,
to sample them all.

Fat,
I languish in
rooms of the crisp folds;
scattered silk and satins, smooth
against my brain.

Oh, small words,
so sumtuous!
Don't tip me off this globe,
not until I finish...

I just want to smell the pages' must
once more
and feel the delicate thinness
bathe the calluses of my eyes.

I wrote this poem for a college poetry class.

After The Summer Storm

Asphalt steams after cool summer rain
entreating six colors to bow above.
Frowning in late afternoon sun.

Earthworms drift through the air
as bare feet pad down Irish road.
Smoothed black marble leading on.

A single jeweled bead slips from
an overhaning bough.
Kissing the forehead with tiny moisture.

A shattered dome, gray and smooth, hovers
as sharp beams of God-light pierce the slate-sky.
Brushstroked with hands gone awry.

A cautious song of far-off thunder
blends with bold feathered arias.
Softening the light of daytime.

I figured something out, and I liked the rhymes.

Everything Eyes

Can we make a compromise?
Always must we analyze?
When we try to scrutinize
all we find are many lies.
There is no time to memorize
as our thoughts we organize
asking us too many whys
the questions always terrorize.
Tell me, do you realize
this is no time to socialize
the questions only paralyze
forget it all... everything dies.

When you have feelings like this, you must express them.

Shattered

I am your vase.
Use your hammer to smash me.
I am your poem.
Use your scissors to shred me.
Why won't you put flowers in me instead?
You won't read the words that would strike you dead.

I am your silver.
I tarnish.
I am your picture.
I fade.
Why do you leave me to chill air?
You won't glance at me; you don't care.

I am your viper.
Beware of my venom.
I am your sword.
Beware of my edges.
Why did you pick up the serpent?
You don't seem to know when you're cut.

I was your error.
Erase me.
I was your heart.
Remove me.
Why did you effort to make me
when you just wanted to break me?

I wrote this poem, when I was trying to define things that are... undefinable.

What is but That

An image is but that.
A picture is merely a memory.
A memory you have of me.
That is but an image.

A memory is but that.
An image in the mind.
An image lost forever, one you cannot find.
That is but a memory.

A friend is but that.
The one who cares for you.
For you who gives all for them.
That is but a friend.

This is a poem that was inspired by my "relationships" that were non-existant.

...

Down upon my mind, the forces come....
Like the whirlwind of the soul....
Introduced, I say,
"..."
and curtsay to the host, Love.
Their are three of him? or four?
Dancing, whirling, he does not allow
himself the chance to capture me.
"***..." he says.
I cannot garble my words enough to
please him.
He cannot choose.
Niether can I.
"Love?" I state, preoccupied,
as he tugs on my sleeve,
sipping a punch I cannot taste.
"????" he inquires, plaintively.
I cannot read his eyes,
and I cannot touch his soul,
so I dismiss him,
as he dismisses me.
"~~~," a voice whispers from everywhere and nowhere.
I see him there, not Love,
but a dark stranger.
Again he says, "~~~,"
and it is a taunt, a challenge.
"!!!" Love cries to me,
but the stranger has claimed me.
I am his, for he facinates me, enthralls me,
where as Love paid me no mind, as I paid him none.
"!?!?" Love pleads.
"~~~!" The stranger growls.
And I am taken, as I always have been....

This is a simple poem, that just came to me, when I was feeling stressed

To

To touch, to die.
To kiss, to cry.
To love, to see.
To want, to be.

To try, to hate.
To want, too much.
To mourn, to lose.
To fight, to choose.

To cry, to hate.
To fail, to wait.
To reach, to try.
To jump, to fly.

To be, to soar.
To fall, too poor.
To win, to cry.
To lose, to die.

This is a poem that I wrote to try to encompass the purpose of Dreams...

What Are Dreams?

What are the pictures in our minds,
when we are in deep slumber?
Who are the figures in the shadows,
which conquer in alarming number?
"What are Dreams?" The spirit asks,
of his knowing master?
"You cannot know, my faithful friend,"
he said with kindly laughter.

What is the force which burns the mind's eye
and conquers all defenses?
Who are the ghosts that haunt our souls
when troubles cloud the senses?
"What are Dreams?" the spirit sighs,
to the knowing expert.
"You will not know, my silly friend."
this time his answer curt.

What is the key which opens doors
to reveal the greatest mystery?
Who are the people who sometimes appear,
even throughout history?
"What are Dreams?" the spirit whines,
to his troubled leader.
"I do not know, you silly fool,"
his answer no completer.

What is the strength which pulls the heart
to it's final destination?
Who is the voice which calls to you,
and brings endless celebration?
"What are Dreams?" the spirit cries,
to his sorrowed brother.
"No one knows, my enemy,"
he answers yet another.

This poem is about the ending of the best summer of my life.

The End of Summer

The gentle embrace of time gone by,
The incessent buzzing of the fly,
The fading jet paths in the sky,
The gentle close of summer.

The frost that touched the beating heart,
The sadness of the autumn's start,
The gap that breaks us all apart.
The frost that ended summer.

The death of passion on frozen lips,
The light touch of tender fingertips,
The salty tear, forgotten, drips.
The death of lonely summer.

This is about the greatest gift that could be given.

A Gift

"If I should leave, before you go,
There is something you must know.
There is a gift, I would bestow,
To let you know I love you so."

"If I should die, before you wake,
There is something you must take,
So you'd know I'd not forsake,
The one I love, who shall awake."

"If I should dream, before I sleep,
I have a gift that you must keep.
You shall not cry, nor shall you weep,
Keep your strength, the cost is steep."

"If I should fade, before the sun,
You must know, Beloved One,
I have a gift, when I am done.
This present is surpassed by none."

"If I should dim, before night's start,
I shall give this, before I part.
With final breath, I shall impart,
This gift you hold, it is my heart."

This is a poem I wrote, about the forgiveness of love.

Forgiven

Forgiven by the Darkness,
for casting light on my soul.
Forgiven by my friendships,
for returning all I stole.
Forgiven by the Sunlight,
for descending into Hell.
Forgiven by my Lost love
who has bought the heart I sell.

This is about feeling lonely, even when you know you aren't, or can't be, yet want to be.

Alone

Alone is not alone any longer,
with so many voices, I must grow stronger.
But when I look up from my dreams,
I still can hear the screams
of tortured souls and mindless men,
and when I fall asleep again
the torment is a breath away,
And so alone, I must stay.

These are questions that I have asked of myself, to try to learn the truths about life.

What is?

Is death lonely?
Not as lonely as being without you...
Is sleep silent?
Not as silent as being away from you...

To smile when all I feel are tears,
To laugh when all I see are fears,
To live without you near.

Is life living?
Not when living without you...
Is breathing necessary?
Not when I breath without you...

To dream when I can feel your lips,
To reach when I can't see your fingertips,
To live without you near.

This is a poem that my mother wrote about me, and I thank her with all my heart.

Woman-Child

by Cathy Hrach

The lady of the dragon sleeps
When all about her
life is quiet

Her deep love of life
awakens in her
the brilliance of a new day

She hastens to care
for those about her -
Her dearest friends

They eagerly await her
gentle ways,
her warmth from within

As she cares for them,
Showers love in her endless
words and manner

Unknown to them
is her strength-
her courage, her humor

And silently, proudly
her mother watches as this
woman-child grows

Into the beautiful
lady of the dragons
that has always been her dream

I don't know why I wrote this, or maybe I do...

Who is There?

Who am I to forget you?
Who are you abandon me?
Strangers?
Friends?
Who?

Who am I to call your name?
Who are you to bring me shame?
Who is out there to bring us close?
No one?
Anyone.

Who am I to turn to you?
Who are you to tear me in two?
Who is out there to keep the peace?
You?
Me?
Not I....

Who am I to be your friend?
Who are you to call the end?
Who is there to return the past? ...
"I don't know...."

Ahh... to be complete.

Whole

Two hearts, as one
no moon, no sun
no break of day
the world is gray

One heart, to stay
yet far away
The distance kills
the strongest wills

The heart is whole
Only one soul
The distance breaks
but stronger makes

To have found you
the one, the true
Gives me the strength
to bridge the length

Someday, not far
by one true star
Together we'll be
as one. You. Me.

For a Guardian Spirit

Guardian of Angels

To wonder where the night goes,
beneath the summer sun.
To wonder where the time flies,
when all of life is done.
To wonder where the dreams hide,
under the age-ed brow.
To wonder where the dragons flew,
when I can hear their growl.

Oh Thou, who art the dreamer,
Guard my dreams for me.
And I, who am the angel,
Will bring my dreams to thee.

A guardian of angels,
Who guards me in my sleep.
A guardian of guardians,
Who knows the dreams I keep.

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