Eryona Writes! Copyright Law (c) 2024 - Present

No Dragons Were Slain Dragons weren’t fearsome, They were gentle and kind. Keepers of knowledge, That enlightened the mind. They could pass through the realms, Of both shadow and light. For they possessed ancient wisdom, And the gift of third sight. Kingdoms could not tame them, Though they sought the upper hand. But our dragons loved their freedom, And would not bend to our command. It wasn’t flame they feared the most, Nor the talons dragons grew. What frightened every kingdom, Was how much the dragons knew. They carried truths throughout the ages, Every secret crowns concealed. No king could buy their silence, For fear the truth would be revealed. So the kings made their decision, The people’s minds now full of lies. They made a proclamation, That every dragon dies. The kings’ determination, Filled their lands with dread. A bounty placed upon the dragons, For every severed head. They could have scorched the kingdoms, And set the lands aflame. But harming those who’d done no wrong, W...

  Before The Fairytales It has echoed throughout our history, That we fear what we don’t know. And kingdoms often answered fear, By striking the first blow. If you were deemed as magical, You were driven from the land. Cast away from the life you knew, Condemned by crown and hand. The healers sought the forests, The dragons claimed the skies. The fae retreated underground, Beyond all mortal eyes. The giants climbed the mountains, Where no king’s flag could wave. The mermaids kept to oceans’ depths, Where no one else would brave. Their names became old legends, Their truths were dressed as lore. The things we call impossible, Had simply gone before. For magic hasn’t disappeared, It’s merely learned to hide. In whispered tales and ancient songs, Where moonlit secrets bide. And history repeats itself, More often than we see. For every myth begins somewhere… Perhaps  from memory. Original Poetry Written By Eryn Dunbar Copyright ©️ 8.5.2026

  Where Moonlit Secrets Bide Don’t follow music through the woods, No matter how it sings. For not all creatures dressed in light Are harmless, gentle things. The fae were never innocent, Though stories softened truth. They traded favors steeped in charm To steal away your youth. They danced beneath the moonlit boughs With laughter sharp as knives, And stole the names from weary souls To claim their mortal lives. They offered fruit like rubied wine, With lips both pale and red, But one small bite could bind you there To realms beneath the dead. So if branches start to whisper And the woods grow deathly still, Do not eat what’s offered No matter how they thrill. For the fae love pretty things And humans love to roam… But once they steal your true name, You’ll never find your home. You should question every legend That history casts aside… For magic still walks quietly Where moonlit secrets bide. Original Poetry Written By Eryn Dunbar Copyright 5.16.2026

Women They Could Not Tame They called them wicked women Because they could not be controlled. It was men who held the power, Not the women who were bold. Women who spoke to nature, Who healed with root and flame. Whose whispers stirred the heavens When they softly spoke a name. They feared the wise and knowing, The ones who sensed too much. Who understood the language In every soul they’d touch. So they branded them as evil, Turned the gifted into cursed. Then burned them at the stake So their secrets would die first. But magic leaves an imprint, It lingers in the blood. In daughters born with knowing eyes And hearts that flood with love. And though they tried to bury them In ash, and fear, and blame. Those witches were not wicked… Just women they could not tame. Original Poetry Written By Eryn Dunbar Copyright ©️ 5.15.2026

Fragments of Truth Stories and myths passed down through the ages. Legends of knights, wizards, and mages. Tales of vampires, werewolves, and fae.  Powerful warlocks who turned night into day. We were told that it's fiction... but what if it’s fact?  And millennia ago they all swore a pact. To rewrite our history and create fairytales. Tales told at bedtime to girls in pigtails. To bury the truth beneath folklore and rhyme. So no one would question the ancient bloodline. They silenced the witches, condemned those who knew. Then painted them wicked to alter our view. But magic dies slowly, it waits and it hides. In forests, old ruins, and ocean deep tides. In women called “crazy,” in healers and seers. In stories that somehow still last through the years. So maybe the monsters were never pretend. Maybe the ancients still walk among men. And maybe those tales that we laughed at in youth, Were never just stories... b ut fragments of truth. Original Poetry Written By Eryn Dunbar ...

  Fish Out Of Water She’s a fish out of water That others watch flounder Her shells are all broken The ones that once crowned her They sit and they watch As she bakes in the sand But not even once Have they offered a hand She’s out of her element A fish from the sea Left to suffer alone With her unanswered plea If some gentle soul Could just put her back in She’d swim with a vengeance She might actually win But this is just something She can’t do on her own She’s praying to God That His mercy is shown She feels like she’s dying Her breath starts to waver Feeling so helpless With no one to save her She suddenly realizes Though a little too late That her lonely death Was always her fate So she closes her eyes For the very last time The most beautiful fish… Has now died in her prime Original Poetry Written By Eryn Dunbar Copyright (c) 11.14.2025

  The Start Of You And Me Your scent’s intoxicating. Your eyes, they mesmerize. You walk into a room, And turn the heads of all the guys. Yet I keep on disbelieving. And I  don’t  like feeling daunted. Does this woman really like me? She could have  anyone  she wanted? I see the way they notice you. The whispers as you pass. The way your body moves, With tender grace and gentle class. Now you’re walking over, You lay your hand upon my sleeve. The way you’re looking at me, Makes it hard for me to breathe. You wrap your arms around my body, Like it’s the only place to be. And suddenly I’m realizing, You don’t want anyone… but  me . We slip outside together, Your fingers finding mine. The night feels soft and endless, Like it’s bending space and time. Your thumb traces soft circles, On the back of my bare hand. Every touch is slow and certain, Like you know… and understand. You lean in close and whisper, My name upon your breath. That simple sound between us, ...