Villanelle

vil·la·nelle
noun: villanelle; plural noun: villanelles
a nineteen-line poem with two rhymes throughout, consisting of five tercets and a quatrain, with the first and third lines of the opening tercet recurring alternately at the end of the other tercets and with both repeated at the close of the concluding quatrain.
Line 1 repeats as line 6, 12 and 18.  Line 3 repeats as line 9, 15 and 19.
I am not a poet, but what a fun way to learn poetry.  Below are my attempts at writing villanelles.

Nine long months till we meet you.
A quiet house, an empty room.
Should we paint pink or blue?
Please give us a clue.
What you will want we can’t assume.
Nine long months till we meet you.
In preparation we bought a crib and cradle too.
We framed the first picture, you in the womb.
Should we paint pink or blue?
Restful nights there will be few.
Will your voice fill the house with singing or shouts of kaboom?
Nine long months till we meet you.
We purchased a blanket for peek – a – boo.
Until you arrive our lives cannot resume.
Should we paint pink or blue?
There is so much to do.
As we wait, my stomach continues to bloom.
Nine long months till we meet you.
Should we paint pink or blue?

Can I borrow the old car?
Please Mom – What do you think Dad?
I promise I won’t drive far.
I know you have a spare key in the antique cookie jar.
Letting me drive isn’t that bad.
Can I borrow the old car?
But I thought I was your shining star.
I am no longer a young lad.
I promise I won’t drive far.
No, I won’t drive it like a sports car.
You won’t have to take out a missing person ad.
Can I borrow the old car?
I’m too young to go to the bar.
I soon will be a high school grad.
I promise I won’t drive far.
Why would you think I will return in a squad car?
I promise to never again make you mad.
Can I borrow the old car?
I promise I won’t drive far.

Another  version :

Can I borrow the old car?
Can I please have the key?
I promise I won’t drive far.
Don’t you trust me?
I want to roll down the windows and be free.
Can I borrow the old car?
But I thought I was your shining star.
I thought I was your pride and fill your heart with glee.
I promise I won’t drive far.
No, I won’t drive it like a sports car.
I won’t pick up a friend or two or three.
Can I borrow the old car?
I’m too young to go to the bar.
I won’t end up before the judge entering a plea.
I promise I won’t drive far.
Why would you think I will return in a squad car?
A safe driver I will be.
Can I borrow the old car?
I promise I won’t drive far.

Why didn’t I listen when you were here?
I go through daily choices, tasks and deeds alone.
Your wisdom I now hold dear.
I pray my choices would make you cheer.
If only I would have known.
Why didn’t I listen when you were here?
You made it right, you made it clear.
The love and lessons you had sown.
Your wisdom I now hold dear.
Your reassurance and strength not near.
I would never choose to go it on my own.
Why didn’t I listen when you were here?
What to do without you, my biggest fear.
I would give anything to hear you answer the phone.
Your wisdom I now hold dear.
As I grow older, I see you in my own mirror.
You would be amazed at how the kids have grown.
Why didn’t I listen when you were here?
Your wisdom I now hold dear.


Raindrops flowing freely from the skies.
I chose you to give my soul.
Teardrops flowing freely from my eyes.
Our love riddled with so many lies.
You broke my heart, my love you stole.
Raindrops flowing freely from the skies.
Romance filled with heartfelt tries.
You ripped my heart and left a gaping hole.
Teardrops flowing freely from my eyes.
I could have fallen for many other guys.
Us together made my life whole.
Raindrops flowing freely from the skies.
My heart longs to be wise.
You will never know the importance of your role.
Teardrops flowing freely from my eyes.
The memory of our love as it dies.
I would love to again take your hand and stroll.
Raindrops flowing freely from the skies.
Teardrops flowing freely from my eyes.


If you decide to try writing villanelles, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
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About Carole Lynn Jones

Writer
This entry was posted in poetry, villanelle, writing, writing; villanelle and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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