Archive for January, 2018

The Wafer poem in iambic heptameter


In order to avoid being replaced by the AI robots, we all need to start developing new, specialized skills. I’m currently practicing my short-form narration in iambic heptameter, with allusions to Samuel Coleridge and the legend of Sant Jordi. Move over androids!

“The Wafer”

Driven from his homeland, his place of kin and birth
This wayfarer left home behind, devoid of joy and mirth
Across the sands he wandered, from Rome to Tripoli
He passed through many cities, only stopped at one in three

Greeted by averted eyes, he’d seek out food and shelter
Thirst was often on his mind, beneath the sun and swelter
So relentless came the heat, he often could not think
But on reaching an oasis, he knelt to take a drink

Looking up with worn out vision, touched by disbelief
Was he being charmed by mere mirage or genuine relief?
For here beheld the drifter, something all too pure
A princess like not other, of unparalleled allure

Yet in such distress, this fair one by the water found
Neither could she move nor speak, completely tied and bound
As it happened, in the lake, a fearsome dragon dwelt
And if he was not weekly fed, his wrath it would be felt

In former times the dragon would be fed on simple sheep
But now his sacrificial feast could make a grown man weep
If offerings do not appear in time to soothe the beast
The lake it should be poisoned as his venom was released

Knowing this the princess begged and pleaded with our friend
“Please don’t interfere with what you cannot understand
It’s no time for heroics or for rescuing some beauty
I’m here to save my city and fulfill an ancient duty”

“If this be duty count me out for such I can’t abide
And when the dragon surfaces I shall not run and hide”
And so it did and none too pleased to find upon the shore
A foreign footman, fearless too, resolved to make a score

And hence our hero held a stone and struck with all his might
The dreadful menace thus collapsed to sleep the endless night
The monster slain, its head quite crushed, its body carved in parts
Returning to the grateful king in seven horse-drawn carts


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