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Villanelle Courage Poems | Villanelle Poems About Courage

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Details | Villanelle | |

Voice Of Courage



Let not the voice of courage fade within
Seize every challenge, choose to make a stand
Be strong of body and soul to quell the din

Accept not quietly, hardships therein
Survival, mind and body occur unplanned
Let not the voice of courage fade within

This challenge for life has forever been
Strike out, speak boldly, strength in spirit grand
Be strong of body and soul to quell the din

By lack of effort, failure would be a sin
When values of life are held in your hand
Let not the voice of courage fade within

So easy to stand by, let failure win
To fall in the abyss of minds remand
Be strong of body and soul to quell the din

Go forth with purpose, in command therein
Reach deep, let strength and power be your brand
Let not the voice of courage fade within
Be strong of body and soul to quell the din



Robert Gene Stoner Jr ©
6/12/15
Form: Villanelle

Copyright © Robert Stoner Jr | Year Posted 2015

Details | Villanelle | |

mother WHO i HATE

Mother, mother can't you see?
How much are you putting the needle,
Deep inside of  my heart?
I know the pain won't go away!
I know you are blind to see the truth!

Pain pain pain,
When will you go away?
Anger, hate & discouragement
Always comes my way!
What am I supposed to do?
I feel alone deep inside,
I feel the empty pressure against my chest,
In a prison of hate,
I am sick of the people who I love,
Betraying me & ruining the trust,
God above who sees your actions,
I hope He will never forgives you,
For you who keep on sin.

One day you will see 
Throw my eyes & my pain,
One day you will stop on pretend,
Realize your mistakes,
It will be too late,
I will be gone far away,
I will never come back again!

Copyright © shirin neshat | Year Posted 2013

Details | Villanelle | |

Breast Cancer Assault-PINKTOBER 2

Silently you crept onto my weakened chest;
Grew huge until pain flooded my core,
Then put inner will to an arduous test.   

You were found when I undressed;
Gently rubbed where I was sore,
Silently you crept onto my weakened chest. 

Slowly you took away all my zest,
But I wanted to even the score;
Then put inner will to an arduous test.

I did what I thought to be the best;
So I fought your callous bloody war,
Silently you crept onto my weakened chest.

Thought this must be my life’s quest;
Thus I fought like I have never fought before,
Then put inner will to an arduous test.

I consider myself extremely blessed;
Fighting like a lion’s fierce roar.
Silently you crept onto my weakened chest;
Then put inner will to an arduous test. 

Copyright © 2015 By Caryl S. Muzzey

Eighth Place Winner ~ "PINKTOBER #2 (old/new poems)” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Poet Destroyer’s
Oct. 1, 2015

Copyright © Caryl Muzzey | Year Posted 2015

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

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Villanelle | |

Villanelle: Live with the borrowed lives made by your own mistakes

Villanelle: Live with the borrowed lives made by your own mistakes

Live with the borrowed lives made by your own mistakes
A stranger to your stricken selves a tenant in your body
Disown not the erred life battered by the body’s quakes

The life you can have is not the life no one else makes
The tortoise shell you unwanted haul a life-long threnody
Live with the borrowed lives made by your own mistakes

Child of wanton self-boosting lust the pounding of stakes
Lost in the blind rubbing spasms slime of airs bloody
Disown not the erred life battered by the body’s quakes

Time enough to turn the leaf over sleepless in bleach wakes 
A thousand regrets come thousand morrows heal nobody
Live with the borrowed lives made by your own mistakes

Let pity not spew and drivel at the sight of lascivious rakes
You are not the Guardian of the errant world’s sorry body
Disown not the erred life battered by the body’s quakes

Unscathed lives live imagined only in the minds of fakes
Life scars with bloody blisters the undersides in everybody
Live with the borrowed lives made by your own mistakes
Disown not the erred life battered by the body’s quakes


© T. Wignesan –  Paris,  2014

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Villanelle | |

Oh Vulnerable Woman

What a beauty you are!
In this very life, my life!
Oh vulnerable woman!

In your fertile womb,
Precious little life,
What a beauty you are!

Lovely soul takes life bids,
Without hesitation,
Oh vulnerable woman!

Without your weakness,
You would not offer love,
What a beauty you are!

Selfless is your existence;
Yielding self to a small one,
Oh vulnerable woman!

Your delicate body gifted life,
And life gives peace as price,
What a beauty you are!
Oh vulnerable woman!


8/11/14

** This is dedicated to my wonderful mother who took the risk of giving us all 
her children - LIFE. My salute to all mothers whose vulnerability is a true 
beauty!!

Copyright © hija de la luna | Year Posted 2014

Details | Villanelle | |

SYLVIA WAS AN 'A' STUDENT

SYLVIA WAS AN ‘A’ STUDENT 
and Alpha woman

The Abyss was bared, and malevolently yawning,
The deep black pit of endless loss to rile
You, and you didn’t know the world was turning;

And you saw the winter trees in mourning
You weren’t short-changed on their willing lack of guile
In the Apollonian myth  - your soul was burning.

Telling time too true, that spring was coming, 
But you let the yellow sorrow of your bile
Flood  the Arcadian dark  your soul was scorning-

So, you died, without ever learning
That your Attic grace would give time its shining dial,
You did not know it then, but the world was turning,

The aureole of dawn crept in, to us a warning
We only have our children for a while
The Austrian angst in which your soul was burning,

The sense of happiness missing you by a mile –
In our Aphasian gloom, your words are burning
Up rivers, mountains, roads, with a killing style –
You didn’t know it then, but the world was yearning.

FROM IN MEMORY OF HER 2004, 2008

Copyright © Rosemarie Rowley | Year Posted 2016

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Villanelle:Should not Masters be They who cut through lands

Villanelle: Should not Masters be They who cut through lands

Should not Masters be They who cut through lands
Who for pittance sake serve up cheap labour
Which Master cleans not house with migrant hands

Who must be seen giving with open hands
Let them oust enemies without bother
Should not Masters be They who cut through lands

Did not caravans snake through Wild West lands
Nor mountain lions snarl at brave Quaker
Which Master cleans not house with migrant hands

Who seeks to cow the Tyrant with commands
While stoking ego with canon fodder
Should not Masters be They who cut through lands

Then sack put to wrack big beauteous lands
Make no amends tear down stars stripes’ grandeur
Which Master cleans not house with migrant hands

Would that migrants learn not to bite soft hands
That feed them at their door barbed by rigour
Should not Masters be They who cut through lands
Which Master cleans not house with migrant hands

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2015 

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Villanelle | |

Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent - 10


Villanelle:: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 10

Wild elephants rage through lush reveries teem
Prides of hungry lions stalk the stray by night
The herd posts no sentinel – confident team

The mightiest nations victims of own dream
The herd instinct subject to divisive right
Wild elephants rage through lush reveries teem

No rogue elephant stands to gain from team
If the path it rages through grows yet upright
The herd posts no sentinel – confident team

Tusks trunks impenetrable mail-chain skin seem
Like all the darkest ages stand stoic might
Wild elephants rage through lush reveries teem

Small people raise great empires sans esteem
All on rapacious claws high swooping delight
The herd posts no sentinel – confident team

Do elephants trample the pelandok* dream
To sing the praises of their founders by right
Wild elephants rage through lush reveries teem
The herd posts no sentinel – confident team

* pelandok: Malay for “mouse deer”

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2015
							

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Villanelle | |

A Fighting Spirit

I must be bold and brave.
By not being stuck in yesterday.
And just dance on a wave.

Look fear in the eye is what I crave,
By letting courage have it's say.
I must be bold and brave.

I long to come out of insecurities cave.
Being victorious is the only way.
And just dance on a wave.

I want to be free before my grave.
Conquer my past  before I start to gray.
I must be bold and brave.

Farewell "fear" I'm done being your slave.
Be a warrior come what may.
And just dance on a wave. 

You took my self worth, but never gave.
A fighting spirit is what I now pray.
I must be bold and brave.
And just dance on a wave. 


7-8-16


Villanelle

A Villanelle is a nineteen-line poem consisting of a very specific rhyming scheme: aba aba aba aba aba abaa.

The first and the third lines in the first stanza are repeated in alternating order throughout the poem, and appear together in the last couplet (last two lines).


Third Place 

Copyright © Alexis Y. | Year Posted 2016

Details | Villanelle | |

Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent -4

Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 4

Test not people of a violent nature
The choice is not that simple: run if you can
The situation calls for plans more mature

Yijing’s ‘Withdraw into your own armature’
May not the violent deter nor you ban
Test not people of a violent nature

Like as not more cunning than immature
Your lofty thoughts and plans put under scan
The situation calls for plans more mature

Not everyone can alter Laws of Nature
Yet it’s everyone’s duty to make a stand
Test not a people of a violent nature

If you let grow your own virtue in stature
The seasons will follow through according to plan
The situation needs no plans more mature

Can evil people cloaked rude in ill-nature
Succeed where violence breeds not in Man
Test not people of a violent nature
The situation calls for plans more mature

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2015

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Villanelle | |

Singing in the wind

I have  heard  grass singing in  the wind.
I   have walked through poppy fields in  sun
I have  suffered  when dark rain descends

I have watched  trees’ shadows in the ponds
I have  known the  arctic wastes of pain
I have  heard  grass singing in the wind.

Another soul is writing  with my hand
Yet I have  wept  while loaning him  my pen
I have  suffered  when dark rain descends

I have known  the edges  of the mind
I ‘ve   sensed  hollow silence un-contained.
I have  heard  grass singing in  the wind.

I have sorrowed for  humans confined
I have  watched  the antics  of bad  men
I have  suffered  when dark rain descends

I have seen the storm by camera lens.
I have felt the   solar system bend.
I have  heard  grass singing in  the wind.
I have  suffered  when dark rain descends

Copyright © Katherine Thwaite | Year Posted 2016

Details | Villanelle | |

A spacious mind



The art of musing isn’t hard to learn
Instead of tablets,screens,electric toys=…….
A spacious mind may entertain  the spurned

We sometimes  learn this when we need to mourn
As  companions leave, of sympathy  devoid
The art of musing isn’t hard to learn.

As milk ‘s transformed to  butter  as we churn
So sorrow’s ale  brings   memories  of joy
A spacious mind  may entertain  the spurned


The art of living is  one art  we earn
By patience and  with tempers un-annoyed
The art of musing isn’t hard to learn

 

As life goes by,how greatly we may yearn
For lovers lost in  wars akin to Troy
A spacious mind can entertain  the spurned.

 

Unlike  that  mistress tempted to be coy,
We open up our our minds to marvelled joy
The art of musing isn’t hard to learn
A spacious mind  may  entertain  the spurned

Copyright © Katherine Thwaite | Year Posted 2016