A two part poem, I wrote this when I was feeling particularly exultant and arrogant, and it's an exercise in rigid rhyme and meter. If I were to title it, I would call it "Iambic Tetrameter, Bitches."

I.
O, through the pine-wall'd corridor
Where never man has walk'd before
(except for one last happy night
so long ago), and where no sight
of man is seen, or woman seen,
among the needles evergreen:
that is where we two now must go--
through silver barks and hostile snow
drifts (some are piled five foot high)--
until at last we touch the sky
and you and I become, as God!
The rulers of this earthly sod!
There in the holy sacrement
our days eternal shall be spent
and all shall fear our name.

II.
The sun burns high in firmament
An eternal stalwart testament
That sends each ray of light between
The cells of all the grasses green
Helios, omnipresent eye,
You make your route across the sky
And tell me that if I would dare
To look through daunting solar glare
That I could grip your solar flare
And take the rider's fiery chair

But where then would your horses go,
With master whom they do not know?
They’d snort and toss and roll their eyes--
For to me love or me despise--
Or perhaps all things would go well
And with my exultant heart would swell
To look from thence and see the ground
While flying the whole world around
And in my ears the mournful sound
Of glowing angels rustling gowns.

What changes wrought upon my stop,
Which would I find were made atop
The world, upon that golden seat?
Would people I met in the street
Back away from my transcendence
(Moses’ face, out of God’s tents)?
It would be trite and so mundane
To return back to earthly plane
and rendez-vous with shadow’s stain:
The sons of Seth, Abel and Cain


TintedFragipan
04:04 PM