Three Poems by Agnes Vojta

 

Dragon

 

He dwells in deep caverns

at the ancient roots of the mountain

where dark secrets are entombed.

 

In his labyrinthine lair,

he is tending towering treasures,

dreams of gleaming gold.

 

He wants to be left alone

in silence, in solitude

He hates to fight

 

intruders with fiery breath,

but he must defend himself:

humans do not understand him.

 

His magic blood

can turn skin to hard armor,

(beware the linden leaf.)

 

At night, he ventures outside.

His wide wings beat the air.

He circles

 

under the stars

and feels free

of his golden shackles.

 

Echoes of Legends

 

I see strange places in my mind

of olden times, it seems:

forgotten lore

from long before

we thought that magic was no more.

I see them in my dreams.

 

A tower at the end of time

wherein a creature dwells

that shuns the light

and hides from sight

and beats its silent wings by night

and spins its secret spells.

 

A pool of water, deep and green,

that holds an unnamed beast

of which they told

in legends old,

its shapes and voices manifold,

and sorrow is its feast.

 

A stone erect on grassy plain,

a barrow, grey and black

on barren ground.

They searched and found

and disappeared without a sound

and none came ever back.

Lament of an unnamed knight

 

And once again the heavy wooden door

slammed shut! I am alone, the dungeon walls

impenetrable stone. The air is damp

and smells of mold and blood and of despair.

 

I nearly had escaped! A few more steps,

I would have reached the boat and grabbed the oar

and rowed to freedom – what a cruel fate

that, at that moment, I should be betrayed.

 

I am – I was – a man of noble birth,

a castle mine, when I beheld the sight

of that imprisoned queen. In banishment

she spent her days and plotted her revenge.

 

Oh how I loved her! Little did I know

that I was but a pawn to help her plan.

The careful coded letters we exchanged

held dreams of future in a distant land.

 

The day came when we fled. With valiant swords

we fought and sped away on valiant steeds.

The heather bloomed for a short while, until

a traitor and an ambush ended all.

 

I do not know what fate befell my queen.

I linger in this hole, chained to a post,

in filth and dark for years. My Lord, I pray,

oh God, be merciful and send me death.

Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land (Spartan Press, 2019) and The Eden of Perhaps (Spartan Press, 2020), and her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines.