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Villanelle Childhood Poems | Villanelle Poems About Childhood

These Villanelle Childhood poems are examples of Villanelle poems about Childhood. These are the best examples of Villanelle Childhood poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Villanelle | |

Alice in Wonderland

Plump-cheeked and bow-lipped, the stalwart mother sits reading,
corseted in her close-kept role, gathering the feminine
for like to like is drawn, a blossom-pressed, Alice sits lazing.

Straight-laced, as the time, the stripped couch holds her life's calling
falsely framed in pleated revere, smacking of each hidden sin
plump-cheeked and bow-lipped, the stalwart mother sits reading.

Her voice denies the rigid caste of ill thought mothering
a doll's denied its little mother's arms and long lost grin
for like to like is drawn, a blossom-pressed, Alice sits lazing.

All of nature calls to her but Mother seeks quiet's staging
as wilder spirits and untamed flowers wilt beneath her chin.
Plump-cheeked and bow-lipped, the stalwart mother sits reading

There'll be no romp, no rabbit chase, no rash beheading,
just Mother dear and only here within this room again.
Plump-cheeked and bow-lipped, the stalwart mother sits reading
for like to like is drawn, a blossom-pressed, Alice sits lazing.

 
Painting Alice in Wonderland by George Dunlap Leslie 


Details | Villanelle | |

Upon Waking

Monsters hide beneath the bed.
Very slowly make their way,
Walking in the sleep of dead.

Out the window they are led
By the shadows of the day.
Monsters hide beneath the bed.

Lingers by a fresh spun thread
Maybe they will stay away?
Walking in the sleep of dead.

Light a candle there instead
Stay awake and watch them play.
Monsters hide beneath the bed.

Hope, just give up every shred,
They won't care if you're okay,
Walking in the sleep of dead.

Don't let them fill you with dread,
Vices you can keep at bay.
Monsters hide beneath the bed
Walking in the sleep of dead.


Details | Villanelle | |

Villanelle: Even childhood teenage nurture stops not the rupture

Villanelle: Even childhood teenage nurture stops not the rupture

Even childhood teenage nurture stops not the rupture
No eagle first takes the plunge without daring demon death
Yet mindless mistakes make us the picture of caricature

Make just one mistake a day in the year and collect torture
Shut the day out alone in shell and court worsening health
Even childhood teenage nurture stops not the rupture

Could the straying baby elephant avoid instant capture
From the pride of lions stalking in frenzied stealth
Yet mindless mistakes make us the picture of caricature

What original sin smacks not of the mistake of rapture
Where the hapless heart flounders in Adam’s gasping breath
Even childhood teenage nurture stops not the rupture

Were not the juicy fruits Eve bore the objects of rapture
What did she promise more than the pulpiness of wealth
Yet mindless mistakes make us the picture of caricature

Human error tosses our lives into the churning of culture
Err not and the lives we lead  lead us into the noose’s wreath
Even childhood teenage nurture stops not the rupture
Yet mindless mistakes make us the picture of caricature

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014


Details | Villanelle | |

We were kids

Those days were full of fun
we had when we're kids.
Everywhere a playground, under the sun.

Little to care, everywhere did we run
all along with other kids.
Those days were full of fun.

Pleasure was unbound, only with stick gun
we're an army of kids.
Everywhere a battleground, under the sun.

Little did we know, as we had fun,
the differences in we kids.
Those days were full of fun.

Laughters, cries, quarrels, lots of fun
shaped the entirety as kids.
Everywhere a playground, under the sun.

Grown old with cares, I miss the fun
we had when we're kids.
Those days were full of fun.
Everywhere a playground, under the sun.


Details | Villanelle | |

Wilting Sunlight and a Daisy Once White

Tell me, tell me, the little voice hisses – 
Your deepest secret; your childish delight.
Of buried schemes and dreams it whispers.

Why do you darken my world and line it in creases; 
Crushed in the clasp of your blinding city lights?
Tell me, tell me, the little voice hisses.

When you’re drowning, staggering, it reaches
Out – of castles hidden beneath the tapestry of night, 
Of buried schemes and dreams, it whispers.

In a saccharine world layered with lies and kisses, 
Why are you so mindless to your plight?
Tell me, tell me, the little voice hisses.

Sure as the sun sets, a daisy must wither; 
Silently – creeping has the day come for your rite – 
Of buried schemes and dreams it whispers. 

In your mind, defying Time, a little boy lingers;
Of buried schemes and dreams he whispers.
Your heart still remembers our world so bright,
So why have you left? The little voice cries.


Details | Villanelle | |

Boys Will Be Boys

The pain will never go away, it just stays.
Everyday he tried to keep his head held high,
but everything would change in just ten days.

They said boys will be boys, it’s just a phase,
but again they were wrong, just one more lie.
The pain will never go away, it just stays

Each year, each month, each day was just a haze,
and all he wanted was to say goodbye,
but everything would change in just ten days.

The words, the pain, were just a repeated phrase,
He was their target, a special bull’s eye.
The pain will never go away, it just stays. 

School was pointless, just another maze.
One without escape, no matter how he try,
but everything would change in just ten days.

He made up his mind, and got no delays.
His last words: they were just simple goodbyes. 
The pain will never go away, it just stays,
but everything did change, in just ten days.


Details | Villanelle | |

Childhood Delight

Childhood delight, if meant to be
S'mores-gas-bord, little choc-o-chips
A Peanut Butter-Jelly tree

Capri Sun, lil' pouches - hmm - see
Jumping rope, and hop a few skips
Childhood delight, if meant to be

Squirrels & birds, quickly, munch with glee
Tree-crow protects from bunnyips                  
A Peanut Butter-Jelly tree

Sneaky, scavengers disagree
these treats for itty-bitty snips
Childhood delight, if meant to be

Problems could arise - gollee gee
Peanuts  fall, they'll grab with grips
A Peanut Butter-Jelly tree

Nocturne critters, smaller bee
leaving behind few honey drips
Childhood delight, if meant to be
A Peanut Butter- Jelly tree


Details | Villanelle | |

After This You Needn't Regret

After this you needn't regret
Your life is bourn as your child today
Voudrais tu une cigarette?

All stakes are high upon this bet
Though grace and patience is all to pay
After this you needn't regret

In warmth and bonds may trust inset
The glow of knowing till egos play
Voudrais tu une cigarette?

Advice wears over for angst's outlet
Never rash nor heavy, never lose light in day
After this you needn't regret

In a wink and a worry in your Autumn set
A thought to the child now grown away
Voudrais tu une cigarette?

Then a day your child takes up the fret
You smile to see their berth and say:
After this you needn't regret
Voudrais tu une cigarette?


Details | Villanelle | |

Childhood

She has seen things in her life
That no child should have seen
Like powder on the edge of a knife

As mother inhales happiness and exhales strife
The frail child watches those eyes begin to gleam
She has seen things in her life

One the mother was a wife
But once father left mother started to lean
Towards powder on the edge of a knife

Mothers prized possession is that knife
Carefully hidden under the bed an wrapped in jean
She has seen things in her life

Once her father took brothers life
And the recurring losing theme
Led her to powder on the edge of a knife

Now daughter also experiences stffe 
Growing into a fragile teen
She has seen things in her life
Like powder on the edge of a knife 


Details | Villanelle | |

Our Fathers, Once Gods, No Longer

Life was holier then when younger, 
opened gifts at Christmas, I toyed
beside the shelter of my father.

Faith in the world was stronger
when what little I knew, relied			 
upon the lies he told me when younger, 

For as the hand of God, come under	
a cloud to part the sea for a boy, 
I walked proudly through the crowds with my father.

But now, his iconic loom no longer
fends, like prometheus, the plight
of man from one no longer younger.

For I see in the winter of his growing older, 				
this frail mortal of him, that destroys
the hope I would hold his hand forever. 

Empty by fact of having grown colder, 
Christmas goes quietly without the joy 
so omnipresent when I was younger-
and still knew God by the shape of my father.	
					


Details | Villanelle | |

Reunion

Brother, brother, sister, we meet together.
The vigil flame of childhood burned so fast.
Mother, Father, your spirits live in storms of stars forever

The season of our joy creates the weather
July reunion eclipses any darkness of the past.
Brother, brother, sister, we meet together.

Family, our bond, it is a treasure.
Dad, then Mom died—souls spun, tornadoed, dropped and smashed.
Mother, Father, your spirits live in storms of stars forever

An alchemy of alcohol and drugs infused our pleasure,
Consumed our innocence, trust and security shaken, terrified, harassed. 
Brother, brother, sister, we meet together.

Armored we survived the wounds and anger
Bruised by a god and goddess, confused by their caring in contrast.
Mother, Father, your spirits live in storms of stars forever.

Love saved us, it is so tender
Its enduring strength so vast---
Sister, Brothers, breathing separate and together
Mother, Father, your spirits live in storms of stars forever.


Details | Villanelle | |

Away

Softly she enters the path into wood
Dressed in summer's white linen, black hat unband
Toddlers follow, these of her motherhood

In bloom today trees ..dogwoods, cottonwood
She carries her butterfly net in hand
Softly she enters the path into wood

Tiny little girls become sisterhood
Drawn to nature are they, bugs, blooms, and
Toddlers follow, these of her motherhood

She spies butterflies in the thick hardwood
Escape today,  play her spirit's demand
Softly she enters the path into wood

Away from the creekside where sometimes flood
Away into the scary woods not planned
Toddlers follow, these of her motherhood

Away she goes into the deep away 
Stray away from everyday dismay
Softly she enters the path into wood
Toddlers follow, these of her motherhood


Details | Villanelle | |

Song of Green Rebirth

Tiny crabapple feet ply the soft, fertile earth
new moment of soil floods his open, seeking face
each day the child learns a song of green rebirth.

He beckons to the willow; wonders at her girth
I carry him close--we grace willow with embrace
tiny crabapple feet ply the soft, fertile earth.

He speaks with the daffodil, sharing her mirth
and sighs, contented in his own cosmic place
each day the child learns a song of green rebirth.

I watch as he contemplates the wind chime's verse
while his fingers explore clover woven like lace;
tiny crabapple feet ply the soft, fertile earth.

Wholly in love with the world in which he's immersed,
drawing from each aspect of the wild rose's grace,
this way, the child learns a song of green rebirth.

To him, every moment so tastily diverse
and our garden, mystical as far reaches of space
tiny crabapple feet ply the soft, fertile earth--
each day the child learns a song of green rebirth.