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Author Name: FreeTristan 6 Comments
Date Added: May 10, 2010 09:05:30 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Type: Rhyming
Category: Love Add To Favorites | Text Only
 
The Pilgrimage
 

The Pilgrimage   

In silent shadows cast by lamplight flame
some rhyming lines revealed a poet’s art 
and on the darkened parchment they became 
the birthing pains within this lover’s heart. 

As he described his passion at that time
his intellect divided in two ways – 
the first a thoughtful, fact-filled paradigm
the other held impassioned words ablaze.

A playful, youthful struggle it began
but reason choked the life from artist’s bliss;
in time the poet changed from boy to man
and sadly buried rhymes in soul’s abyss.

As years passed by he dodged his passion’s pleas  
and so, within his life, romance was missed,
denying self so others he could please, 
his brokenness continued to persist.
 
Although he was loved dearly by his wife,
she, in her way, denied the depths of him.
Within the weary path of lonely life,
a glowing ember – Hope – began to dim.

In living life’s tempestuous ascent, 
the victories had piled before his throne.
Before his life’s blood was completely spent
he tired of always feeling so alone.

One day a crooked path showed him a way
and with a pen he rode a beam of light
into his mind and heart of yesterday,
and answering his passion, he took flight.

Forgone were what conclusions that he’d find,
the soul he felt was lost he might redeem,
reflecting on the past within his mind,
his heartbeat sang as he recalled his dream. 
 
In time he sought a sanctuary site,
the freedom in his heart improved his view,
he found the perfect place where he could write
and there a loving Muse returned he knew.

His poetry awakened deafened ears
and speaking from his heart with every word,
she taught him how to write about his tears,
with thoughts of yesterday, his heart was stirred.
 
The lines he wrote were meaningful and pure;
with rhythm, rhyme and reason from his soul,
his poetry to her would reassure,
and through his love of her, she made him whole.

From there returning to his palace grand
cut deeply bloodied holes within his heart,
he couldn’t stay for none would understand
why he had watched his kingdom fall apart.
 
A helpless, thoughtful dreamer still can see,
though blinded by the passion of romance,
the kingdom must be saved – he is not free
to follow dreams across the bridge of chance.

The depth of him her heart will always know,
this pilgrimage will tell from where he came,
though love awaits him where he cannot go,
they both know that their lives won’t be the same.
 
 
Author's Notes:
Rhymed quatrains set in syllables of iambic pentameter. The story about a Muse's place in the life of a poet.
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'The Pilgrimage' Copyright © Tristan
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Comments:
Comment By: PremiumHOPE on July 25, 2010 10:28:43 AM Report
Tristan

What a fantastic journey.  Wonderfully written.  Is it Erato or Calliope who has mended your broken heart?  I had to look it up.

Tina

Comment By: FreePamela A. Lamppa on July 23, 2010 12:13:34 AM Report
I love your references to Byron and Shelley.  These are delicious quatrains filled with creative thought and the coupling of muse and poet.  How beautifully this tale is spun - entwined, one within the other, inside and out.  We truly cannot live without our  muse, lest we live without our love of heart.

Nice work again.  I do enjoy your rhyme.  Thank you. ~Pamela
Comment By: FreeCindy Bendel on June 22, 2010 01:38:27 PM Report
Tristan, you write with such skill, heart and intelligence. It is pure pleasure to be spun around into the vortex of the beauty and romance your poetry creates. 
I say with all truth: You are a poet of unusual passion and talent. 
Acknowledgements to you muse as well. 
~Cindy 

Comment By: FreeAlison Storm Wolf on May 10, 2010 01:24:37 PM Report
I do enjoy your old world style.
With
great delight he sought a harbour site

not
spawned by colours nor the short review,

he
found a poets’ home where he could write

and
love evolved with one he barely knew.
Sincerely hope you are not referring to here ;-) lol

Alison x

 

Comment By: FreeGlata on May 10, 2010 11:39:22 AM Report
I agree with Adri...beautiful!

 

Sometimes wrestling with the Muse starts out as a playful game...fun and exciting...but it often ends up being a battle of the very heart and soul...A true poet and/or writer wants and needs to write to the exclusion of everything else when the Muse wins out and has the upper hand.

Awesome work, Tristan...

Hugs...

Glata

Comment By: FreeAdri on May 10, 2010 09:51:18 AM Report
This is SO beautiful! The style and rhythm suits perfectly. You really do write brilliant poetry
Adri x





 


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