I feel the pull of distant lands.
The beck’ning call of golden suns,
Their scorching heat on desert sands.
I’ve missed the plains where water runs
And cataracts rush tumbling to
Creeks, sunlight-shattered, laughing ones
That sing and dance while winding through
The scarréd canyons full of lush
And verdant life, each spring grown new.
Bright flowers bloom, and faintly blush,
Fresh spice and tonic fill the airs
That fills my lungs, and slows my rush.
I stroll by orchards full of pears,
See wise, just kings, with thrones of gold
And beautied castles in the air
Princesses saved from dragons old
By armored knights who fight for thane
With singing swords, tempered and cold.
The rain beats on the windowpane,
I close the book with trembling hands.
This is a personal experiment for me. It’s a chaining-abab iambic tetrameter poem. The chaining rhyme (try to pick it out) is lifted straight from Dante’s Divine Comedy, and the meter is just pretty simple eight-syllable lines. Written some of your own? Share it in the comments below. If you enjoyed this poem, please share it on social media. Buzz and viewership helps us to continue producing good content for you! You can view the original post on ItB Blog