Monday, 17 January 2011

Weekend When the World Was Away

Monday 17th January 2011, A. Palmer


We didn’t leave the house at all, save for dreams;
the two of us together, mounted in a muck untrue,
but I’d pull you back to my world from your screams.

The phone never rang, just as well as it seems,
for we’d made no plans to come unstuck through,
and we didn’t leave the house at all, save for dreams.

Dining with the moon, we’d sleep in the sunbeams.
From warm, amber fuzzes, your ghouls would pluck you,
but I’d pull you back to my world from your screams.

We played the games we’d escape with one-man teams,
but somehow, onto mine, we always snuck you.
We didn’t leave the house at all, save for dreams.

Your acetate butterflies, with their aquas and creams,
took over the room as your art-panic upchuck grew,
but I’d pull you back to my world from your screams.

Those few moments gated away gifted me gleams
of a future I could easily have stuck to:
We wouldn’t leave the house at all, save for dreams,
but I’d always pull you back to my world from your screams.




This is, as ropey as it is, a first attempt at a form Claudia at Splittergewitter introduced me to today: the 'villanelle'. Taken from the Italian 'villanella' (meaning 'peasant song'), a villanelle is nineteen lines long, consisting of five tercets and one concluding quatrain, and employs only two rhyme sounds. The first and third lines of the first stanza are rhyming refrains that alternate as the third line in each successive stanza and form a couplet to close the quatrain. For a greater explanation of the form, plus much more expertly crafted villanelles, head to Claudia's workshop on them at One Stop Poetry.

6 comments:

  1. Hey, it was my first time at villanelle as well.
    Most of the day was spent wondering where the hell was my villanelle?

    I truly loved this, so comfy, warm and personal. Though I enjoy getting out, I love housebound days like you so beautifully described.

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  2. There's a sense of sorrow, of pulling someone back from the edge. It's not "ropey." It's well done, Arron.

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  3. arron - i think you were doing a good job with this one - you didn't stick strictly to the meter - but that's also not required in a villanelle. but the form - the rhymes - very good - also very good use of words and a great content (which is not that easy when we have to concentrate on form and rhyming words etc...) - well done

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  4. Your acetate butterflies, with their aquas and creams,
    took over the room as your art-panic upchuck grew,
    but I’d pull you back to my world from your screams.

    Love your word choices in this stanza Arron, particularly the use of colour.

    This is a great first attempt at a villanelle, they're slippery lil suckers aint they? Claudia's right about the meter and although you don't have to stick to ip (I've written a couple that haven't) I think, with a couple of tweaks here and there, if you could get it right with this one, you'd really have it singing.

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  5. Hey guys, thanks so much.

    Rene, thank you, yes sometimes it is magical to stay in and do absolutely nothing. I read your villanelle, it is infinitely superior, great 'debut'.

    Glynn, you're right, I didn't consciously intend an undercurrent of sorrow, but it is there isn't it? I love when that happens: the poet unwittingly reveals more of his/her feelings/concerns/thoughts than they had intended.

    Claudia and Julie, you're both spot on, the meter was (and always is) the component I struggle with most. I am attempting more forms, as I am determined to improve that aspect of my poetry. Thank you for your kind and constructive criticisms, they are both useful and encouraged.

    Thanks all!

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  6. I don't like traditional rhyme poems like this normally, but you rocked it. Excellent.

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