Thoughts left impressions
on skin and hair like dust
in the air from a fallen
building. A tension in the
air with no words said.
Month: July 2018
Visions That Linger [poem #278]
A Note About This Poem: Questioning how we ‘see’ our dreams, how we ‘talk’ about them (to ourselves or to people). The strange occurrence when dreams seem to have a plotline (a story to tell) and how we think about these stories as somehow linked to each other.
Eyes wash lips hold
secrets unfold, unfolding
like dreams that link
together into visions
that linger, simmering
in the back of the brain.
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Poetic Forms: Villanelle
Here we go! Another discussion on the basics of poetic forms, this time Villanelles.
(Link for History of Villanelles)
A Villanelle is comprised of nineteen lines, 5 stanzas of three lines each with a final stanza of four lines, the rhyme scheme is aba
here’s where it gets tricky,
1st line of 1st stanza repeats as the last line in the 2nd and 4th stanzas
3rd line of the 1st stanza is repeated as the last line in the 3rd and 5th stanzas
The 1st and 3rd line of the 1st stanza become the 2nd to last and final line of the poem
(source: The Making of a Poem)
A basic outline of the first nine lines would look something like this,
1st line, rhyme scheme a
2nd line, rhyme scheme b
3rd line, rhyme scheme a
4th line, a
5th line, b
1st line (repeated), a
6th line, a
7th line, b
3rd line (repeated), a
…and so on.
I have been having fun with the Villanelle lately and trying to write a few of my own. I have one pretty much fleshed out but it is not near done enough to post yet. But here is an example villanelle.
Do not go gentle into that good night
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.
source: poets.org
Other sources/resources:
New Rhyming Dictionary and Poets Handbook
The Making of a Poem: A Norton Anthology of Poetic Forms
Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics
Thank you for reading! Please feel free to follow or subscribe!
-Alina
Like Pitted Nectarines (poem #277)
Blossoming eyes losing
focus on the edges of photographs,
blur me out, hollow and sweet
like pitted nectarines.
A Note About this Poem: I imagined an old photograph with girls smiling, happy, and joyful but the knowledge that they all must be dead or alive somewhere very very old weighs the photograph down.
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-Alina
Burn Like Evergreens (poem #276)
The sun dies down and
I am slowly eclipsing
who I used to be. Will
you burn like evergreens
in the summer? Will you
hold onto the fingers, the
hands that pulled you
into this world? Will you
let them take you out?
A Note About this Poem: For this poem, I was inspired by forest fires in California and the responsibility our parents have over us when we are born and (in rare cases) if they are alive to experience our passing, I think one of the saddest experiences has to be losing your child. Somehow in my mind, there is a connection between the two subjects, losing forests to summer fires and losing children.
Thank you for reading! Please follow to subscribe to read more poems!
-Alina