Just For You Poetry

The scent of ore sails on the breeze,
from tropic mists that hang from trees.
There gather ghosts of tall tales told,
of ancient mountains gowned in gold.

The paupers sit beneath the trees
and there inhale the luring breeze:
then dreaming seek the scent of ore,
in mountains rich with mystic lore.

Through tropic jungles, dense and hot,
where terror lurks and bandits plot.
The insects sting and sing of plight
and tiger's eyes glow in the night.

Ahead are mountains, wild and high,
which snow-capped pierce the tropic sky.
And when the mid-day sun shines down,
the mountains wear a golden gown.

With awe the paupers view the sight
of haunted hills in golden light.
The luring scent sings strong and sweet,
for gold lies here beneath their feet.

One night gold clouds alight the sky.
When lightning strikes the paupers die.
But one remains who still tells tales,
of ghosts who roam these trodden trails.

The scent of ore sails on the breeze,
from tropic mists that hang from trees.
More paupers sit beneath the trees
and there inhale the luring breeze.

g.EveKaye 6/12/16, edited 6/30/16

Hi Loretta, and welcome...

A lovely and beautiful poem you have shared with us , wonderful rhyming scheme and repetition which i enjoy very much..thank you

This is a wonderful poem. I love the tale. It's magical. I remember it from AP. I loved it when I read it there too.

Very interesting and a lovely tale.

Thank you, Stella, Cindy and Sheema very much. Cindy, are you Solsticescalping from AP? Loretta