Villanelle

[Vlad]

They came from outer space, they claimed.

And I saw no reason not to believe,

Until so many bodies turned up maimed.

 

The places they’d been are the most famed,

But I knew not of the lies they’d weave.

They came from outer space, they claimed.

 

The slander found, made them all inflamed,

But none would think that men they’d cleave.

Until so many bodies turned up maimed.

 

I saw through the disguise that they had framed,

Repeated what they said before – Oh how I was naïve.

They came from outer space, they claimed.

 

The story had us humans so ashamed,

For we would talk of love and peace and how to live.

Until so many bodies turned up maimed.

 

These so called space-men surely must be blamed,

It is their fault that fact from fiction we did not sieve.

They came from outer space, they claimed.

Until so many bodies turned up maimed.

[Sweetcherrie]

What was the assignment?

 

Lots of repetition in here which I quite like

 

The only one that stands out to me is 5th stanza second line, 'live' doesn't really rhyme with the others...then again, you probably did that on purpose.

 

Quite a different subject than what you normally see in poetry as well.

 

All in all nice poem

[reverie]

I like it Vlad. I have to read sooo many of these this year in my creative writing class, and I can honestly say this best one I've seen.

 

 

 

Oh and here's a rather long explanation of a Villanelle from: http://www.writing-world.com/poetry/villanelle.shtml

 

 

Poetic Forms: The Villanelle

 

by Conrad Geller

 

One traditional form of poetry that can be fun to write, is technically easy compared to the most challenging forms, and often surprises the poet with its twists and discoveries, is the villanelle.

 

Villanelles have been around for at least three hundred years. Its name derives from the Italian villa, or country house, where noblemen went to refresh themselves, perhaps dally with the locals, and imagine that they were back to nature. It seems to have grown out of native songs, with their frequent refrains and complex rhyming.

 

The first thing you need for a villanelle is a pair of rhyming lines that are the heart of your meaning. Here are the two key lines from The House on the Hill, by E. A. Robinson:

 

 

They are all gone away

There is nothing more to say.

Now put an unrhymed line between these two, to make a three-line stanza:

 

They are all gone away,

The House is shut and still,

There is nothing more to say.

The next stanza begins with a line that rhymes with the basic couplet, a line that rhymes with the middle line you added, and (this is the key to this form) the first line of the couplet repeated:

 

Through broken walls and gray

The winds blow bleak and shrill:

They are all gone away.

The next stanza has a first line rhyming with "away" and "say," followed by a line rhyming with "still," and then the second line of the couplet repeated:

 

Nor is there one today

To speak them good or ill:

There is nothing more to say.

You see how the two lines of the base couplet become more and more meaningful with each repetition. That is why the success of the form depends so much on the careful selection of the couplet.

The poem then goes on this way for a total of five three-line stanzas, alternating the two base lines, and ends with a sixth stanza that adds the second line of the stanza one more time:

 

 

Why is it then we stray

Around the shrunken sill?

They are all gone away.

And our poor fancy-play

For them is wasted skill:

There is nothing more to say.

 

There is ruin and decay

In the House on the Hill:

They are all gone away,

There is nothing more to say.

Beautiful,as the gloomy atmosphere deepens with each repetition.

Here is another, much lighter villanelle by a more contemporary poet, Sondra Ball. Her subject is the villanelle itself, and the form is strictly adhered to, though she does allow herself some irregular rhymes:

 

 

Musical and sweet, the villanelle,

like light reflected in a gentle rhyme,

moves to the ringing of a silver bell,

its form creating soft and tender spells.

Like the singing of distant silver chimes,

musical and sweet, the villanelle

 

flows through the heart, and builds a magic spell

from sunlight and from shadows, and, sublime,

moves to the ringing of a silver bell.

 

It never arcs into the sharp loud yell

of vast pipe organs. Soft its climb.

Musical and sweet, the villanelle,

 

like a tiny and translucent shell

catching sunlight in the summer time,

moves to the ringing of a silver bell.

 

Soft and gentle, tender and so frail,

like light pouring through petals of the lime,

musical and sweet, the villanelle

moves to the ringing of a silver bell.

 

Notice, too, that in this form poets can choose longer or shorter lines. Robinson's poem has three beats to a line, while Ball's has the more traditional five (ta-DUM, ta-DUM, ta-DUM, ta-DUM, ta-DUM).

This hardy and flexible poetic form has had a resurgence in the last hundred years. Probably the best of the poems produced during this time is Dylan Thomas's reflection on the death of his father, Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night. And for good measure it's probably one of the best poems of the twentieth century of any kind, period:

 

 

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.

Though Wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

[Sweetcherrie]

 

Thanks rev...shows how badly I should continue on trying to understand poetry forms and learn more about them...

[cryptomancer]

Points to any that can do justice to this style,

 

I struggle with it, i just find it frustratingly restrictive.

 

beautifully written though, i like.