My favorite poetic form, waking to sleep, going gentle, and loving thunderbirds. Enjoy your weekend, everyone.
i thought i'd write a little villanelle
I thought I'd write a little villanelle
To tell the world just what I thought I'd see
When past the beach, and on the shores of hell.
Young men would like to party more than swell
But that means nothing to young girls who be.
(I thought I'd write a little villanelle.)
Who thought I'd wander off above the fell?
Who knew that earth held sway beneath the sea,
When past the beach, and on the shores of hell?
Not me. Not even those who tell the tale.
Go fishing, go and take. Go fly. Go flea.
I thought I'd write a little villanelle.
Go by, and find the inside of a whale
Or well. Swell. See a bee beside your tea
(When past the beach, and on the shores of hell.)
Come now. Come join. There is so much to tell.
For those who find the poesy flowing free:
I thought I'd write a little villanelle
When past the beach, and on the shores of hell.
Photo of sunset, West Maui, by Kathy Riordan
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Comments
Hope
Terzanelle in Thunderweather
Lewis Turco
This is the moment when shadows gather
under the elms, the cornices and eaves.
This is the center of thunderweather.
The birds are quiet among these white leaves
where wind stutters, starts, then moves steadily
under the elms, the cornices and eaves.
these are not our voices speaking guardedly
about the sky, of the sheets of lightening
where wind stutters, starts, then moves steadily
Into our lungs, across our lips, tightening
our throats. Our eyes are speaking in the dark
about the sky, of the sheets of lightening
that illuminate moments.
In the stark shades we inhabit, there are no words
for our throats. Our eyes are speaking in the dark
Of things we cannot say, cannot ignore,
This is the moment when shadows gather
shades we inhabit, there are no words for
this is the center of thunderweather.
Coincidentally, one I wrote (for a poetry forms class called "Stretch Your Style" on a writing website) was entitled "I Have to Write a Villanelle" which I humbly submit here:
I have to write a Villanelle
to keep my streak at “Stretch Your Style.”
I dread my trek through poem hell.
My agony I cannot tell,
a stomach filled with acrid bile
I have to write a Villanelle.
O how to fill this empty shell?
Composing words all free from guile.
I dread my trek through poem hell.
At last my thoughts begin to gel.
Hey! Why not make the reader smile?
I have to write a Villanelle.
My fears and pain I think I’ll tell;
it doesn’t have to be a trial.
I dread my trek through poem hell.
Oh dear, this didn’t turn out well;
I think I’ll toss it in the file.
I have to write a Villanelle.
I dread my trek through poem hell.
I HAVE TO WRITE A VILLANELLE
{c} 2008, Kenneth M. Rhodes
2008.034
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Rated.
Thank you for sharing yours!
Thank you for your delightful poem and for bringing back memories of a very happy time here at OS. Have a wonderful Sunday!