I Was eaten By A Fire-Breathing Dragon

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    I Was eaten By A Fire-Breathing Dragon

     I was eaten by a fire-breathing dragon last night,
    after my mom had tucked me in tight.
     He slid through my window and up to my bed,
    so Ipulled the covers up over my head.
     He smelled my feet and licked my toes,
    then I jumped up and punched him in the nose.
     His body was blue,
    and his wings were too.
     His eyes were red and fangs so white,
    I knew I was in  battle I could not fight.
     I hit him again and ran for my door,
    but I triped over his tail and fell on the floor.
     He picked me up with his mouth open wide,
    swalloed me down and went back outside.
     The last thing I heard was myself scream,
    Oh, thank God it was only a dream!!
     

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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