The Philosopher's Journeys
An Exercise in Blank Verse
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Over a decade ago, when I first began writing formal verse, I attempted to write philosophical dialogues in verse — a strange mix of Platonism, Wordsworthian blank verse, and a high fantasy setting.
Overall, they are unsuccessful, and at times terrible, but they have some redeeming passages, and this is one of them:
Aurelius:
In my wanderings I have traced the span
Of this vast globe: traversing sea and air
By custody of ancient rights, which bid
Safe transport for philosophers, support
And aid for sages in their times of need.
I have seen much — and in my quiet hours,
Recall these sights to mind, scene by scene,
Reflecting on their beauty, till it seems
That all the world revolves within my brain
And I am overwhelmed — for I have seen
This same sun rise and set on many sights:
High mountains, tropic jungles, deserts dry
And desolate, savannahs, grassy fields,
Streams, rivers, crystal lakes, lagoons and seas,
And the ocean's endless blue. I have seen
Day break over labyrinthine cities
And travelled through towns, villages and ports,
To distant shrines, secluded hermit-cells,
Old libraries, great citadels of stone,
And marble palaces — to any haunt
Where I might learn the wisdom I desired.
In all I have beheld — in starry skies,
Majestic ruins, arid plains where rocks
Are worn by wind and sand into strange shapes,
Deep chasms, glaciers, waterfalls and peaks —
In all of nature's sights and ev'ry place
Which man makes fit to dwell, I have been moved
By beauty, silent and intangible;
And yet, I'd wager that in all the world —
Perhaps in all the worlds — there is no scene
More beautiful than that we now behold:
The flaming sun's descent to kiss the waves.
© Metrical Poet, 2025.
You may notice in the repeated “I have seen” the attempt to capture something of the intensity of Wordsworth, in his famous lines on Tintern Abbey: "And I have felt..." The image of an admirer of nature recollecting his experiences in solitude is also very Wordsworthian. Then there are the catalogues of locations, a piling-up of image upon image, which might recall Milton (“Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death”) or similar passages in Wordsworth and Shelley.
I may post a few more extracts from these early poems, as I wait to hear back on the potential publication of newer material.