Isaiah Zerbst Poet Villanelle

Cool Mists

Like steam arising from a pot
and floating by this grassy field,
the morning mist concealed the plot.

I could not find the thing I sought
because with mist it was concealed,
like steam arising from a pot.

I tried to find, but I could not;
my sightless eyes by fog were sealed.
The morning mist concealed the plot.

Encircling seas of white I fought,
as drops within the air congealed,
like steam arising from a pot.

Then, as I stood there, lost in thought
away from there the sunlight peeled
the morning mist that concealed the plot;

And through the veil the thing I sought
a moment showed, and then resealed
like steam arising from a pot;
the morning mist concealed the plot.



{Written June twentieth.}

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Poet Destroyer A July 4, 2015 at 2:06 AM amazing imagery. Isaiah, we don't get much mist down here. But, when we do, it's never good. enjoyed. LINDA

Darlene Gifford June 22, 2015 at 5:53 AM The morning mist will do that. I liked your poem. A7. ~~Darlene

Leo Larry Amadore June 21, 2015 at 1:43 PM A very nice villanelle, Isaiah: dense and thoughtful, and pleasantly phrased so that the required repetitions fall pleasingly upon the ear.