Traveling Mysteries

By: Dirg Posted on: March 31, 2016

Ballad

As a young Dwarf, the story that I share with you below was amazing to me. The journey, the exploration, the constant change of scenery and environment. And so, when I wrote this poem, you might feel as if you are on a journey as you progress through three separate styles of poetry. First we start with an Epic style, then we move into a ballad with iambic pentameter, and finally we wind up with a very simple but quick rhyming scheme. I chose this format because I want you the reader to also go on a journey, one that first starts slowly with wide eyes of amazement as I did, unsure of your footing, trying to figure out what it is you’re experiencing. Then builds to more of the exploration and story telling as you gain your feet and become comfortable with the style, and then suddenly you are struck with an almost gleeful finale as you become inspired and excited.

Please enjoy:

Traveling Mysteries
by Dirg Fumbleboor

Being a young Bard, and unaccustomed to the hunt
It was with great trepidation that I answered the call of a fellow housemate.
They asked if I would go with them into the scorpion’s lair.
Not willing that they should dare go alone, I acquiesced.

“I warn you”, said I, “I am not a hunting Dwarf.”
“It is much more usual that I should lend a helping hand
To those who ask for help in places I do go.”
He didn’t seem to mind, so off we ran.

It wasn’t long before my feet were stilled.
A moment that I would not soon forget.
I would have to go into the city’s libes
And read ‘bout curatives when feet are set.

It was during this hunt that I upon’d
The oddest thing that these young eyes had spied.
Where once nothing, there now appeared a door.
It glowed! And beckoned me with arms held wide.

“Don’t enter there!” decried my hunting mate.
“You do not know what is it that you’ll see!”
But my friend he did not quite understand,
That those words were addiction unto me.

I entered first, and saw the octet doors
and stepped into the north and then northwest.
For hours no egress would appear to me
If days need be, I would plod on with zest.

When suddenly a bright light showed the sea.
And I was in a place I had ne’er gone.
Not long until it had occurred to me
that I might be in isle of Ulangi.

So I explored and walked about to all.
I saw the most incredible of things,
I sipped from freshest stream and waterfall.
I listened to the songs that nature sings.

Two Months went by and soon I knew it well.
But stranded for where was the glowing door?
How could I get to where I had once come?
Could I return to where I was before?

A ferry man and I had struck a deal,
He was a kind and quiet sort of man.
I secretly withheld my raging zeal
And ferried off until we reached Shastaan.

Another place that I had never seen.
A pleasant town of simple quaint design.
But soon my feet were pulled by wand’ring gene
And off I strode until I found a sign.

The sign itself was small and made of stone.
I read it once and then most eagerly
As I wondered to my self alone
Could this sign here, in fact, be meant for me?

Those words will haunt me till my days are crossed.
“The path to somewhere new, leading from old
Never forget and you shall ne’er be lost.”
And with that thought for’er shall I be bold.

No I shall ne’er again be lost my friend.
My path to somewhere new shall never end.
And you perhaps I’ll help to one day send
Onto a journey that you now must attend.