#villanelle

36 posts
  • alxita 5w

    This poem is a villanelle, with 19 lines in 6 stanzas, where each line I've made all 8 syllables.

    Rhyming Scheme:

    A1 b A2
    a b A1
    a b A2
    a b A1
    a b A2
    a b A1 A2

    Each row is a stanza. a and b are rhymes. The letters capitalized are refrains that are to be repeated throughout the scheme.
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    ~~ My Second Heart ~~

    A heart waded in the life's wine
    Peace dims beyond my footsteps' trail
    Need another heart down the line

    Don't ask queries if I am "fine"
    As wine shattered to my sole dale
    A heart waded in the life's wine

    Counting days calming me behind
    When hope wavers, stabbing me pale
    Need another heart down the line

    Anxious to wish, display more signs
    Redolent to eyes in strong gales
    A heart waded in the life's wine

    My loss pressures an anodyne
    Defeated by life, feel all wails
    Need another heart down the line

    No longer clinged to my old line
    Want a new life past my old fails
    A heart waded in the life's wine
    Need another heart down the line
    .
    .
    .
    .
    -- SUMMARY --

    We all may experience a point where life's obstacles may be too overwhelming for us, pressuring and defeating us, and wishing for a new path to follow along.

    "My second heart" symbolizes a willingness to mental or/and spiritual change in life.
    "Life's wine" symbolizes life's utter omnipotence and power (as if life is personified).

    -- VOCABULARY --

    1 | wade - to walk through water; to proceed with difficulty
    2 | query - question
    3 | dale - valley; vale
    4 | anodyne - something that soothes
    5 | wail - a crying out in grief
    --

    #secondheart #villanelle #spiritual #challenges #life #hardship #hopeless #giveup #newlife #mirakee #alxitadailythoughts #alxita_august_twenty #ceesreposts #pod

    Aug. 18, 2020, 10:06 AM (GMT+8)

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  • danielpobz 6w

    A BROKEN POEM

    (A villanelle poem)

    In the realm of imagination I roam
    I am lost in awe of prose and poetry
    Today, I am but a broken poem

    Mentally locked in a disconsolate catacomb
    I escape into the fields of magic and fantasy
    In the realm of imagination I roam

    The taste of distrust towards my peers, it blooms
    Courtesy of a family tainted with adultery
    Today, I am but a broken poem

    I survive without the comfort of a home
    I close my eyes and my books become my reality
    In the realm of imagination I roam

    Incomplete, no outline, no breathing room
    I am but literature without brevity
    Today, I am but a broken poem

    I am significant, but to whom?
    In need of revision and clarity
    In the realm of imagination I roam
    Today, I am but a broken poem

    END

    #ABrokenPoem #pod #Villanelle

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    A BROKEN POEM

    In the realm of imagination I roam
    I am lost in awe of prose and poetry
    Today, I am but a broken poem
    ©danielpobz

  • danielpobz 8w

    A BROKEN HEART

    A BROKEN HEART

    (A Villanelle Poem)

    A broken heart is as good as dead
    For it bleeds like no other
    Frozen with many things left unsaid

    Fed up with the hurt, no more tears to shed
    No longer sees the world in technicolor
    A broken heart is as good as dead

    How it wished it could have fled
    Struck and strangled by a vicious lover
    Frozen with many things left unsaid

    Left in a train wreck, dangling by a thread
    Like a prisoner sentenced to suffer
    A broken heart is as good as dead

    Scarred and overwhelmed with dread
    No wonder after encountering such a monster
    Frozen with many things left unsaid

    To the last ounce of blood, it bled
    Hanged to dry with embarrassment and dishonor
    A broken heart is as good as dead
    Frozen with many things left unsaid
    ©danielpobz

  • alxita 12w

    A villanelle is a 19-line poem, with 5 stanzas of 3 lines, and the last stanza having 4 lines. It has two repeating rhymes and two repeating refrains. The rhyming scheme is as follows:

    A1 b A2 || a b A1 || a b A2 || a b A1 || a b A2 || a b A1 A2

    a and b are rhymes. The letters capitalized are refrains that are to be repeated throughout the scheme.
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    -- Violet and Verdancy --

    Verisimilitudes of verdant vales
    Voracious violets veil verities
    Velleities unveil as it's impaled

    Saturnine scams sent sempiternal sails
    Spill sourness, spectacles of scarcity
    Verisimilitudes of verdant vales

    Asthenic aesthetic in April's ales
    Arbitrated, ailed by audacity
    Velleities unveil as it's impaled

    Venerations of veiled violet vales
    Volatile, vague's verdant veracity
    Verisimilitudes of verdant vales

    Euphemisms err, erroneous ails
    Educate the elegies' enemies
    Velleities unveil as it's impaled

    Freedom, 'twas thou who made pellucid sales
    Truth, 'twas thou who called for thine audibly
    Verisimilitudes of verdant vales
    Velleities unveil as it's impaled
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    #truth #villanelle #false #verdant #violet #vale #fallacy #lavish #exquisite #peace #belief #vision #life #mirakee #alxita_july_twenty #poetry #ceesreposts #pod

    Poem no. 134
    Jul. 3, 2020, 10:45 AM (GMT+8)

    Now this is certainly a more difficult type than a rondeau!

    In the villanelle, it metaphorizes violets as the seemingly exquisite, and bold show-offs, while the verdant vales (inspired from @altafmurtaza's post name) as the truthful, yet underrated and overlooked matters.

    Alliteration was also used, as for interest hehehe, and last, but not the least, every line is decasyllabic! (having 10 syllables)

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    Violet and Verdancy

    "Verisimilitudes of verdant vales
    Velleities unveil as it's impaled"
    ©___alxita

  • hibernatingpanda 22w

    I started to chisel me,
    On a stone, to remember me,
    The world needs to know my deeds.

    Etched the happiness ki,
    Perfected with success aura,
    I started to chisel me.

    Holding the power of the listener's creed,
    To preach advice to many,
    The world needs to know my deeds.

    A masterpiece depression free,
    To Dawn light upon countless,
    I started to chisel me.

    Such a hypocrite I feel,
    Irony is rich in the stone,
    The world needs to know my deeds.

    The maker is none close to the making,
    What I am, is not what's on the figurine, now
    I started to chisel me,
    The world needs to know my deeds.

    ©hibernatingpanda


    #ovi_chall_2 #ovithepoet #pod #mirakee #writersnetwork #love #life #poetry #thoughts #inspiration #villanelle #villanellepoetry
    @odysseus @mirakee @writersnetwork @soulfulstirrings

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    The sculptor

    Isn't it true that everyone tries to sculpt what they are not?
    To give advice but fail to follow themselves.
    To preach peace, when the self is depressed?
    Isn't it true?
    I know no more.

    ©hibernatingpanda

  • robertwjeter 24w

    The Witch And The Wolf

    The Witch and the Wolf became best friends.
    Understanding each other in the deepest ways.
    Committed to each other until the end.



    Brought together by a calming natures blend.
    Through each others eyes they said what they had to say.
    The Witch and the Wolf became best friends.



    Through the powers of light did the supernatural send.
    Sent a companion to brighten the day.
    Committed to each other until the end.



    Two different lives, different auras ascend.
    Partners together in a world where few stay.
    The Witch and the Wolf became best friends.



    A silent serenity of companionship to lend.
    Difficulties narrow and the judgments fade.
    Committed to each other until the end.



    No complications or egos to bend.
    There for each other with no excuses that delay.
    The Witch and the Wolf became best friends.
    Committed to each other until the end.
    ©robertwjeter

  • chinateapot 37w

    Precious in it’s every drop,
    Enough water to last her family the day,
    A heavy pail balanced on top.

    As heat pours down her on non-stop,
    Back to her villiage Hamza makes her way.
    Precious in it’s every drop.

    A dream for rain to heal the crop
    Wilted in the fields, just clay.
    A heavy pail balanced on top.

    One hand lifts to secure and prop,
    Careful not to spill and sway.
    Precious in it’s every drop.

    Her home in view, an arid backdrop.
    Each step with care to not stray,
    A heavy pail balanced on top.

    Her sister waves, a smile they swap,
    Hands to her father and hears him say,
    “Precious in it’s every drop.”
    A heavy pail balanced on top.


    ©chinateapot

  • queen_of_words 56w

    His little eyes have seen rivers, blood-red
    That flow through the streets every single night
    His young mind is now haunted by the dead

    Sleep never comes when he lies in his bed
    As he thinks of the time when in the fading light
    His little eyes witnessed rivers, blood-red

    If his people had listened when the rest had said:
    Gone will be those who tried to fight
    His young mind wouldn't have been haunted by the dead

    He watched as his entire world bled
    The tears were trapped inside as he stared at the sight
    His little eyes have seen rivers, blood-red

    The sky cried when bullets were shed
    And his dreams came crashing down mid-flight
    His young mind is now haunted by the dead

    His heart stays always drowned in dread
    Every breath he takes is accompanied by fright
    His little eyes will remember those rivers, blood-red
    His young mind will forever be haunted by the dead

  • words_and_verses 64w

    The first tryst

    The day I met you on 4th of July,
    Phosphenes swirled with an aura bright,
    Every hue of kaleidoscope felt shy!

    Raindrops waltzed, euphoria floated high,
    Cheeks turned crimson enamoured by your sight,
    The day I met you on 4th of July !

    Your enticing smile with a glance so sly,
    Made even stars wistfully await the Jewel of night,
    Every hue of kaleidoscope felt shy!

    For my hideous past, every unheard cry,
    I found you as a savior, my armoured Knight,
    The day I met you on 4th of July!

    Skeptical mind made an attempt to deny,
    But the way you embraced me tight,
    Every hue of kaleidoscope felt shy!

    Every fragment of me felt light, Oh my,
    A tryst so gentle at a timing so right,
    The day I met you on 4th of July,
    Every hue of kaleidoscope felt shy!
    ©words_and_verses

  • words_and_verses 69w

    The first tryst

    The day I met you on 4th of July,
    Phosphenes swirled with an aura bright,
    Every hue of kaleidoscope felt shy!

    Raindrops waltzed, euphoria floated high,
    Cheeks turned crimson enamoured by your sight,
    The day I met you on 4th of July !

    Your enticing smile with a glance so sly,
    Made even stars wistfully await the Jewel of night,
    Every hue of kaleidoscope felt shy!

    For my hideous past, every unheard cry,
    I found you as a savior, my armoured Knight,
    The day I met you on 4th of July!

    Skeptical mind made an attempt to deny,
    But the way you embraced me tight,
    Every hue of kaleidoscope felt shy!

    Every fragment of me felt light, Oh my,
    A tryst so gentle at a timing so right,
    The day I met you on 4th of July,
    Every hue of kaleidoscope felt shy!

    ©words_and_verses

  • heena_ 69w

    Heart sings the melancholy
    Cords producing sound
    May be the pressure is what keeps me going

    Sun comes up and the stars go down
    But this darkness doesn't seem to move around
    Heart sings the melancholy

    Like nails on the chalkboard
    The dreadful premonation haunts me
    May be the pressure is what keeps me going

    Simple complexities never fail to amaze me
    Always one more key to find whenever i try to break free
    Heart sings the melancholy

    Using blades as a marker, I draw my fate
    These creases on my hand are no one to say
    May be the pressure is what keeps me going

    Till you exit me like a smoke rising
    I'll continue this spree
    Heart sings the melancholy
    Maybe the pressure is what keeps me going.
    ©heena_

  • craigcryan99 70w

    He goes out to play in the grass,
    Pieces of playable plastic in his area.
    He allows the seconds to pass.

    Not a soul knows how long it will last.
    The plastic prevents hysteria.
    He goes out to play in the grass.

    He does not play with bagpipe or brass,
    safety is not imaginable in the interior.
    He allows the seconds to pass.

    He does not personify fast.
    The boys mental ability is "inferior".
    He goes out to play in the grass.

    "There's something not right with him, alas!"
    "He's sick Carol, maybe it's that Malaria"
    He allows the seconds to pass.

    The adults ponder taking him to mass.
    Not understanding he is simply a variant.
    He goes out to play in the grass.
    He allows the seconds to pass.
    ©craigcryan99


    #Villanelle #ceereposts #disability #mirakee

    @paulwrites @naveesha @soulwriters @writersnetwork @mirakee @writerstolli @unidentifiedthoughts @unidentified_one @unspokengirl @unimaginative_world

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    He Goes out to Play in the Grass

    ©craigcryan99

  • i_faha 72w

    Mangata - Swedish for ‘the road-like reflection of the moon in the water’

    First attempt at a villanelle - A French verse form consisting of five three-line stanzas and a final quatrain, with the first and third lines of the first stanza repeating alternately in the following stanzas. These two refrain lines form the final couplet in the quatrain.

    ABA ABA ABA ABA ABA ABAA

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #villanelle #moon

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    Oh Man in the moon

    Lend me a glimmer of your borrowed shine
    of what you have stolen from coveting stars
    Send me a shimmer for these shadows of mine

    Fall on my darkness and accentuate my blurred lines
    from wounds & injuries into pretty crater like scars
    lend me a glimmer of your borrowed shine

    Waxing and waning, making our hearts pine
    phasing in and out of silvery nights from afar
    Send me a shimmer for these shadows of mine

    Gravitating towards you, oh ghost lover of mine
    ebbing and rising like waves, do we spar
    Lend me a glimmer of your borrowed shine

    A craftsman of Pulitzers off pilfered lines
    there's an art to your theft, like fireflies caught in a jar
    Send me a shimmer for these shadows of mine

    On the roads of Mangata of spilled stones of rhine
    hold my hand & lead me to where you are
    Lend me a glimmer of your borrowed shine
    Send me a shimmer for these shadows of mine

    ©i_faha

  • prettyproses 73w

    O' tiny cold dewy feather like cloud of rain
    Fly with your wings towards a land distant
    To my beloved who stays in a village terrain

    Take this letter which depicts my pain
    A moment of seperation, love disparate
    O' tiny cold dewy feather like cloud of rain

    How I miss her poetries & that green plantain
    Convey my tears of sadness and explain
    To my beloved who stays in a village terrain

    Take some flowers as you remain
    Tell her that it's fragrance reminds me of her
    O' tiny cold dewy feather like cloud of rain

    Ask her to look for the moon that wane
    These are the days that will quickly drain
    To my beloved who stays in a village terrain

    Tell her not to worry relentless about me
    I am safe and sound here
    Will return home soon as I am set free
    I am always in her heart don't you fear
    ©prettyproses


    A villanelle, also known as villanesque, is a nineteen-line poetic form consisting of five tercets followed by a quatrain.for a total of nineteen lines.It is structured by two repeating rhymes and two refrains: the first line of the first stanza serves as the last line of the second and fourth stanzas, and the third line of the first stanza serves as the last line of the third and fifth stanzas. The rhyme-and-refrain pattern of the villanelle can be schematized as A1bA2 abA1 abA2 abA1 abA2 abA1A2 where letters ("a" and "b") indicate the two rhyme sounds, upper case indicates a refrain ("A"), and superscript numerals indicate Refrain 1 and Refrain 2.

    The villanelle has no established meter, although most 19th-century villanelles have used trimeter or tetrameter and most 20th-century villanelles have used pentameter. Slight alteration of the refrain line is permissible.

    There are two refrains and two repeating rhymes, with the first and third line of the first tercet repeated alternately until the last stanza, which includes both repeated lines. The villanelle is an example of a fixed verse form. The word derives from Latin, then Italian, and is related to the initial subject of the form being the pastoral.

    My first villanelle poetic piece using today's word of the day "Relentless".

    #relentless #wod #pod #mirakee #villanelle @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    Nimbus

    O' tiny cold dewy feather like cloud of rain
    Fly with your wings towards a land distant
    To my beloved who stays in a village terrain
    ©prettyproses

  • eavicae 74w

    @writerstolli #3elements_wt @carolyns_challenge_account #Villanelle #ceesthinkthu


    About Villanelle Poetry Format:
    (source : study.com)

    -Villanelle is 19 liner poem consisting of five tercets and a quatrain. -Two lines repeat in specific manner- the first line 00 as lines 6, 12, and 18, and the third line recurs as lines 9, 15, and 19.
    - The rhyme scheme is ABA ABA ABA ABA ABA ABAA.
    -In this way, only two different rhyming sounds are used throughout the poem.

    #pod @mirakee @writersnetwork #mirakee #writersnetwork #writerstolli #wordoftheday

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    Celestial Conspiracy

    Conspiringly allied movements of the sun and the earth
    create a horoscope, prognosticating woes;
    in dead forest of kindlings as spring takes a rebirth.

    Sacrifices of autumn leaves are justifying their worth,
    although some animosity can be seen in those
    conspiringly allied movements of the sun and the earth.

    Perfumed leaves of saplings do not show a dearth
    of appetising aroma as gentle zephyr blows
    in dead forest of kindlings as spring takes a rebirth.

    A missing tooth, venomous, searching south and north,
    time is yearning for toxic bite, as it secretly knows
    conspiringly allied movements of the sun and the earth.

    These sprouts will be falling leaves - first, second, third, fourth......
    The seed of withering autumn, time covertly sows
    in dead forest of kindlings as spring takes a rebirth.

    Roles of spring and autumn, performing back and forth,
    envious celestial theater ruthlessly shows
    conspiringly allied movements of the sun and the earth
    in dead forest of kindlings as spring takes a rebirth.

    ©eavicae

  • whimsicalwallflowerwrites 76w

    Never trust a narcissist.
    He called me sweet til I turned psycho.
    I believed him.

    Charming lips I longed to kiss
    A dark heart I thought I could win.
    Never trust a narcissist.

    He said I kept him full but my dish was
    Flavorless. Chocolate cake with fake sugar.
    I believed him.

    Busied myself to death in the kitchen
    Trying to please him. New flavors, exotic desserts.
    Never trust a narcissist.

    He spat me out and complained I
    was no longer sweet, but psycho.
    I believed him.

    My broken body thirsted for a drop of love
    But all he left me was an empty cup.
    Never trust a narcissist.
    I believed him.

    ©whimsicalwallflowerwrites

  • ghostache 79w

    As I dance across the Meadow

    As I dance across the Meadow,
    Where the sky breathes a violet hue,
    The world shines in a wondrous show.

    Perhaps the chance band of deep indigo
    Will slowly appear in view
    As I dance across the Meadow.

    The enticing prospect to one day know,
    Farness of the Horizon, Deepness of the Ocean Blue;
    The world shines in a wondrous show.

    Pillowy green grass under my toes,
    Patiently avoiding the Gaze of the Shrew
    As I dance across the Meadow.

    The Heavens begin to blaze in radiant yellow,
    Affectionately tinged with teasing orange hue.
    The world shines in a wondrous show.

    The rising sun, encased in a melancholic red glow,
    Is cautious to begin the day anew.
    As I dance across the Meadow,
    The world shines in a wondrous show.
    ©ghostache

  • boochumsky 85w

    Death

    What has death done to you?
    Has it taken away a sibling you held dear?
    Or a lover, maybe a parent too.

    All it does is ruin it for the ones who live,
    In the absence of the people who were once near,
    And brings more sorrow than you thought it would give.

    To some it actually brings peace,
    By removing an entity who once filled you with fear,
    And to many it creates a void and doesn't leave you in one single piece.

    To me it taught a lesson that is rife,
    Not to take anyone for granted and to always be clear,
    That no matter what, the person will be irreplaceable to my life.

    Thoughts are all that remain of the dead,
    Good deeds that they were part of will always be remembered in this large sphere,
    Others are what we are to dread.

    But, at last it brings the dead to an end,
    Of what we call life or this journey that took a veer.
    An end that they can no longer mend,
    For the journey is now complete; a ship that reached its pier.
    ©boochumsky

  • nerkson 85w

    Mirage

    I should have seen it there
    The mirage of the mind, shimmering eternal
    But perhaps that's why I care

    Your thoughts like the strands of your hair
    Flowing freely in the sun patched wind
    I should have seen it there

    Each truth of your reality cut as a single tear
    Cut through the fabric of the clothes I wore
    But perhaps that's why I care.

    I should have seen it there
    The love you shared warmer than the sands
    Light as a feather, yet too much to bear

    But perhaps that's why I care
    You shifted and blew, a million yous blowing
    The finest sand grain, floating on air

    You shifted and moved despite the suns glare
    Each day a different you but still the same
    I should have seen it there
    But perhaps that's why I care.
    ©nerkson

  • the_rocking_ray 86w

    But, I still.....

    But, I still want you to stay by my side
    I know I can't change our destiny
    You may leave, our memories will reside

    When you will look back, I will hide
    I can't let you break, nor did I
    But,I still want you to stay by my side

    Once,I was alone with no one beside
    Then, you came and taught me to fly
    You may leave, our memories will reside

    We can't change, this course of tide
    When we have our ambitions high
    But, I still want you to stay by my side

    Everything is mortal, but remember our ride
    In your memories, never let me die
    But,I still want you to stay by my side
    You may leave, our memories will reside....
    ©the_rocking_ray