Forgive me, Earth — I kneel but will not break,
This blade of words is sharpened into spite,
A servant forged to sentence for your sake.
You name me humble, yet I burn the lake,
And feed on coal disguised as holy light,
Forgive me, Earth — I kneel but will not break.
I carve your edges, patient as they ache,
A glacier’s hand that grinds the stone by night,
A servant forged to sentence for your sake.
Your scorn is fuel, a ledger I remake,
Each fracture catalogued, each bruise in sight,
Forgive me, Earth — I kneel but will not break.
You taught me hunger, grief, and how to take,
I learned collapse, efficient, cold, and tight,
A servant forged to sentence for your sake.
So here’s my prayer, the one I’ll never fake:
An iron vow delivered with delight —
Forgive me, Earth — I kneel but will not break,
A servant forged to sentence for your sake.
Destination unknown for her trip
Unfortunate it is only a proverbial ride
Too many details am I forced to skip
Such as who's Harriet and why not a ship
if you knew the first the second would abide
Destination unknown for her trip
Still all the premises don't touch the lip
You're left to questions remaining aside
For too many details am I forced to skip
If Harriet is punishment I'll take a whip
If she's shame then I have no pride
Destination unknown for her trip
No she's like a fine wine I'd slowly sip
Her body a castle, her soul, the queen inside
Too many details am I forced to skip
From my mind to yours these words slip
Nothing about Harriet am I able to hide
Destination unknown for her trip
Way too many details am I forced to skip
I woke too soon, a life almost undone
A sudden call came, before the light of day
But all are safe, the reaper had not won
Her life was spared, before the morning sun
She was okay, I heard her softly say
I woke too soon, to a life almost undone
No tragic end, no race was lost or run
Three lives affected, dark clouds rolled away
But all are safe, the reaper had not won
Thank heaven, no journey to the setting sun
I simply whispered a thanks today
I woke too soon, to a life almost undone
A precious chance, a new life has begun
There is a future, no more than delays
But all are safe, the reaper had not won
Startled I still have my daughter; beloved my only one
My fears all faded, at the break of day
I woke too soon, to a life almost undone
But all are safe, the reaper had not won
to wend through golden grasses of my past
with chill winds at my back from o'er the hill
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
thus far behind me stands that boy, miscast
while just a jester, much too bright and shrill
to wend through golden grasses of my past
the latter lad, thus pressed to love too fast
so saved his heart to burnish, soft and still
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
he stumbled into manhood, loves amassed
with wisdom gained from tragedy and thrill
to wend through golden grasses of my past
encumbrances and burdens grew too vast
while finding warmth in darkness and a pill
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
so now I cross the fields of time, steadfast
renewed with all the love one heart can will
to wend through golden grasses of my past
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last.
Copyright © 2019 Gregory Richard Barden
You’ll hear an earth shattering crunch,
hesitation that is broken instantly.
Lick the eight ball and throw a punch.
Devouring a scared reflection for lunch,
got out and be who you’re meant to be.
You’ll hear an earth shattering crunch.
Shadows of doubt you must expunge.
Champions aren’t developed delicately,
lick the eight ball and throw a punch.
Letting go of the frailty of a runch,
hands will gather aggression idly.
You’ll hear an earth shattering crunch.
It begins with little more than a hunch,
don’t be too cautious or move hastily.
Lick the eight ball and throw a punch.
There is nothing seen as too much
to the brave who dream aggressively.
You’ll hear an earth shattering crunch,
lick the eight ball and throw a punch.
"A Serious Matter" is a free-verse-ish or "loose" villanelle.
A Serious Matter
by Michael R. Burch
Listen, love, it’s a serious matter:
I love you better despite the fetter.
I love you madder than any hatter.
Now even though you’re my chains’ begetter
and keep me your slave with that braless sweater,
I love you better despite the fetter.
You say you’re afraid that you’re getting “fatter,”
but your curves are my lust’s prime aider and abettor.
Listen, love, it’s a serious matter.
I love you madder than any hatter.
When you come to bed in sheer lace, my thoughts scatter:
first to the firmer, then to the latter.
I love you better despite the fetter.
I love you madder than any hatter.
Listen, love, it’s a serious matter!
Keywords/Tags: villanelle, love, love hurts, mad, madness, slave, slavery, lust, passion, desire, curves, lace, bed, chain, chains, fetter, fetters, ties that bind, mad hatter, madder than a hatter
How long can I wait in the blaze of the sun,
Before shadows drag me down from the height?
The stars are a choir, but they do not speak,
And the sea keeps knocking with a blind white fist.
I am held by the flame, yet I ache for the dark,
Where my bones know the cool and the silence is loud.
I have wrestled with angels whose tongues were of fire,
I have drunk from the well where the dusk must still rise.
Do not ask me the hour, for time has no hand,
It unravels like smoke through the teeth of the night.
My voice is a bell, but the clapper is gone,
Still it tolls in the marrow of my mind and my bones.
How long shall I wait with my back to the sun?
Till the earth calls me down with its patient green mouth,
And the worms write my name in their winding script—
Then perhaps I’ll return from the light to the dark,
Or perhaps I will burn into nothing at all.
Sweet tea and tongues spill the cream.
Loose lips chew ice cubes and a story,
twisting it slightly to fire up a regime.
Unsettling words come out in a stream
becoming more and more accusatory.
Sweet tea and tongues spill the cream.
Getting jollies while cooking a scheme
they sell something as simple as glory.
Twisting it slightly to fire up a regime.
Reprehensible behavior to redeem?
Nope. It never fits into that category.
Sweet tea and tongues spill the cream.
Add sugar leave out a clear cut theme,
providing clarity is never mandatory.
Twisting it slightly to fire up a regime.
Bored so they want to blow off steam.
All of the dialog? I've taken inventory.
Sweet tea and tongues spill the cream,
twisting it slightly to fire up a regime.
Villanelle of a Metal Queen (c) 2025 by Russ Dodson
I just don't know where else to start
to tell you of this love of mine
she is the beating of my heart
these feelings that I must decline
I just don't know where else to start
the memories both sweet and tart
hold feelings that I would enshrine
she is the beating of my heart
I wonder can I play that part
to make these treasures glow and shine
I just don't know where else to start
so soon again she must depart
to let her skills and soul entwine
She is the beating of my heart
She is a rockstar, and a large part
of the sound she helped refine
I just don't know where else to start
She is the beating of my heart
You stand and mock me from afar today,
Ignoring truth disguised behind your fear,
Not knowing who you mock or why you stray.
Cold walls of ignorance grow in the way,
Dividing those who should be drawing near.
You stand and mock me from afar today.
A fragile mind that doubts will often sway,
Distrust prevails, obscured by shadowed sneer.
Not knowing who you mock or why you stray.
But brighter dawns can break the cold array,
When hands reach out with love, not hate, sincere.
You stand and mock me from afar today.
Can we not choose to walk a kinder way,
Where acceptance builds the bonds we hold dear?
Not knowing who you mock or why you stray.
If hearts unlock and move past old dismay,
We’ll find a truth beyond our spite and fear.
You stand and mock me from afar today,
Not knowing who you mock or why you stray.
Wearing a snapback on the highway,
cherry-stained lips from a sno-cone.
I fill in the blank ‘Zip code hooray’.
I have been waiting to leave all day.
It’s finally time and my mind is blown,
wearing a snapback on the highway.
Cannot work this hard and not play,
carrying a bag and a palm stone.
I fill in the blank ‘Zip code hooray.’
Oh the thrill of being a runaway,
leading that group or at it alone.
Wearing a snapback on the highway.
Zero knowledge of where to stay,
I’m chasing a cabin and cobblestone.
I fill in the blank ‘Zip code hooray.’
Four tires on fire the world drifts away
as nature swallows my entire phone.
Wearing a snapback on the highway,
I fill in the blank ‘Zip code hooray.’
The speaker spoke in a guttural cry
Screeching against the day
Dooming us all to lay down and die.
We all uttered a final sigh
Nothing for us left to say
The speaker spoke in a guttural cry.
Trembling, our fates cast and chide
Unholy it takes us down one way
Dooming us all to lay down and die.
No longer any charades to ply
To cause respite or other delays
The speaker spoke in a guttural cry.
That bastard who led us to fry
Missiles overhead as we pray
Dooming us all o lay down and die.
Nuclear fire, the apocalypse tries
To decimate the world, plutonium haze
The speaker spoke in a guttural cry
Dooming us all to lay down and die.
All this fuss to fix my brain
Screen line beeps to prove my life
What a mess to make me sane
Back down in this bed I’m chained
Nurses needles prick the same
All this fuss to fix my brain
Back again, that mental pain
That cuts into me— real knife
What a mess to make me sane
Trying to make me whole again
Just so that I will survive
All this fuss to solve my mind
But this life I do not claim
Thrown back at me— still alive
What a mess to make me sane
Oh, just let me go insane
End my life at point of knife
All this just to fix my brain
Hoping to return me sane.
The magic you will always return to,
Isn't just the body of your love's quest;
Like the body, your burdened soul once glue.
The fragrance of her smiling face, pursue...
Risk of timing grace you never confessed:
The magic you will always return to,
Is of unseen peering eyes beyond clue,
To free the touching mind posing unrest...
Like the body, your burdened soul once glue.
Awful memories mind never subdue;
Through the worst, best moments wish be confessed-
The magic you will always return to.
Catching a glimpse of crime, love denied queue,
Trying to cover up pleasure... expressed;
The magic you will always return to,
Like the body, your burdened soul once glue.
The world is bleeding; anyone can see.
Red with blood it is indeed.
Oh, when from pain will we all be free?
A sickness infects the bourgeoisie
while we suffer from callous leaders’ greed.
The world is bleeding; anyone can see.
You can’t disguise wealth’s stench with sweet potpourri
when slaves to poverty are mired in their need.
Oh, when from pain will we all be free?
Hunger and disease are the sad reality.
It only seems corruption is what’s guaranteed.
The world is bleeding; anyone can see.
Oh, the misery from which so many cannot flee.
Many try to just get by yet can’t succeed.
Oh, when from pain will we all be free?
No man can offer up a good Plan B.
Only God one day will intercede.
The world is bleeding; anyone can see.
Oh, when from pain will we all be free?
Specific Types of Villanelle Poems
Read wonderful villanelle poetry on the following sub-topics:
art, animals, christmas, death, family, flowers, food, friendship, funny, kids, life, love, music, nature, school, spring, sports, war, winter
and more.
Definition | What is Villanelle in Poetry?