There Really is No Place Like Home

Reflecting on our recent cruise on the Great Rivers of Europe, I realized that as exciting and fun as foreign travel is, that old saw that there’s no place like home, is true.

Reflections on Travel

You can cruise the rivers of Europe;
Sail the Aegean Sea;
Visit Seoul, Korea,
Go up to the DMZ.

You can tour through Mongolia
By various travel modes;
Visit the Greek Acropolis;
Walk on ancient roads.

You can visit Ethiopia
Or see the land of the Czars.
You can go over to Hong Kong,
Enjoy their restaurants and bars;
See the snows of Kilimanjaro
Or stand on China’s wall.
You can tour ancient Egypt,
See the Pyramids and all.

You can wander ‘round the Philippines,
Marvel at Manila’s moon,
Or go to exotic Vietnam,
Experience a summer monsoon.

You can go down to Africa,
Feel the mist of Victoria Falls.
You can travel to Versailles
And walk imperial halls.

You can go to South America,
See the jungles of Brazil,
And relax at Ipanema.
(If you’ve some time to kill.)

You can go to the land down under,
See marsupials and all,
Or travel to the top of the Earth,
See the mountains of Nepal.

You can go on down to Italy
And visit the ruins in Rome.
You can weather the frozen Yukon
Before you come back home.

You can depart America
And travel to Earth’s ends,
But naught in the world satisfies
Like coming back home to friends.

The Villanelle

The Villanelle is a structured poem with strict rules (if you are a purist). It must have 19 lines. It has five stanzas with three lines each except the last, which has four. The first line of the first stanza is repeated as the last line of the second and fourth stanzas. The third line of the first stanza is repeated as the last line of the third and fifth stanzas. As if that weren’t hard enough, the first and third lines of the first stanza must be repeated as the last two lines of the last stanza. It’s hard to write a Villanelle. Here’s my shot that tries to capture the difficulty.

The Villanelle

If you write a Villanelle,
Then you must comply
To what the poet rules compel.

You’ll find yourself in poet’s Hell
As you goose-step try.
If you write a Villanelle.

You’ll spend time in mental dwell.
Your lines don’t apply
To what the poet rules compel.

Approaching soon a padded cell,
For relief you’ll cry,
If you write a Villanelle.

Most the time it doesn’t gel.
Think I’ll just say “bye”
To what the poet rules compel.

You’ll hasten to your final bell
As you fruitless try.
If you write a Villanelle
To what the poet rules compel.