Animals Villanelle Poems | Examples

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


Premium MemberHayride

Autumn festivals dot the landscape
Especially around the rural countryside,
Providing a welcomed weekend escape.

Halloween decorations made of crepe
Orange ribbons on the old hayride,
Autumn festivals dot the landscape.

Pumpkins scattered about, all agape,
Some with a lighted candle inside,
Providing a welcomed weekend escape.

Hay bales in their usual oblong shape
Become seats on the ride, all dried
Autumn festivals dot the landscape.

A nip in the air says wear a warm cape
Colorful leaves drift along for the ride
Providing a welcomed weekend escape.

Overhead, fluffy animals in a cloudscape
Amusing adventure where lovers confide
Autumn festivals dot the landscape
Providing a welcomed weekend escape.

Written September 28, 2022


Premium MemberSpringtime Villanelle

Rays of golden sun, at orange dawn, I enjoy...!
I wake up, hearing chirps of birds at four O’ clock;
At fifties! Yet, I feel, as though a little boy...!

The earth and the heavens celebrate springtime-joy, 
Timely changes in weather never my glee block;
Rays of golden sun, at orange dawn, I enjoy...!

Newborn baby animals race around in cloy,
In ponds around, bullfrogs in chorus gaily croak;
At fifties! Yet, I feel, as though a little boy...!

Breeze, as though touch me not, feels me and fades in coy,
Within feelings, like salsa, to xylophones, rock;
Rays of golden sun, at orange dawn, I enjoy...!

Seed drowsing, spring up and shoot up fresh green savoy,
Migratory birds to their homelands fly in flock;
At fifties! Yet, I feel, as though, a little boy...!

Sunshine! Shower! Wedding of foxes! Dogs convoy!
Ducks and geese and swans and swamps display their catwalk;
Rays of golden sun, at orange dawn, I enjoy...!
At fifties! Yet, I feel, as though a little boy...!


15 April 2022
Springtime Villanelle Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet

Winter Fruit

The empty canes of raspberries  hang low
Red maple leaves are mashed up in the mud
 Nature  seems to  hover by death’s door 

Animals and humans drained as whores
No feeling ,no  green sap,no  flowing blood
The crackling canes of raspberries hang low

What can we say un-cliched, metaphored?
At dawn the sun will  burn despite the Flood
Nature  did not force us through death’s door 

Can the death  of God    mean this and more,
Though love and hate are fractured, life is good?
The chuckling canes  the berries sang below

Can  a life  with heart not be restored?
End  retaliation,   understand
Nature  did not wave us through  the door 

At the edge of Europe  are no hordes
Jesus is  more small  than any  bud
The crackling canes stored laughter in their cores

The remnants of the foxgloves in the wood
Wave politely . even seem to nod
The raspberry canes, the honesty know more
Nature ,light and darkness, affect stored

Do You Believe

Do you believe in the mythical magical
Creatures
Or are you a little skeptical?
It's all in your preceptoral.
Really. These things have a special allure.
Do you believe in the mythical magical
Fantastical
Animals with extrodinary features
Or are you a little skeptical?
There are some that are sensational
On adventures.
Do you believe in mythical magical
And unusual
Beasts in nature
Or are you a little skeptical?
These things do defy natural and logical
Reasons especially since they haven't had
Much exposure.
Do you believe in the mythical magical
Or are you a little skeptical?

Premium MemberVillanelle: Too Late Too Few the Tears She Sheds On Cradle

Villanelle: Too late too few the tears she sheds on cradle

Too late too few the tears she sheds on cradle
Bosom-fed mouths sing no tame lullabies
Innocence raped in the womb heeds no fable

Each child on its own must its life enable
Who would re-crush the seed ram the egg with lies
Too late too few the tears she sheds on cradle

Bad enough the baby’s plucked through tight stable
Wrapped in a putrid bag stink slime stuck on eyes
Innocence raped in the womb heeds no fable

Animals all trained to rut machos enable
None sneak in on the sly sans broken horn tries
Too late too few the tears she sheds on cradle

No engine smokes to cut lifeblood off cable
Nor let pistons lockstep shunt through torrid sties
Innocence raped in the womb heeds no fable

Monsters all baked in ovens below navel
No use pretending we are the scions of skies
Too late too few the tears she sheds on cradle
Innocence raped in the womb heeds no fable

(c) T. Wignesan - Paris,  2017
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.


My Muse Has Gone To Hades

My muse has gone to Hades, is that hell?
I   sing for her  while my heart palpitates
Wow, I’ll be  in  demonic  space as well

I think my little cat has  lost her bell.
On my plight, I sit and meditate
My muse has gone to Hades, is it hell?

The cat can’t phone, if only she could  yell.
I  hear my thoughts  and manic,  agitate.
Soon I’ll be  in  demonic  space as well

I wish that animals could use a cell.
All they can do is eat and procreate
My muse has gone to Hades, Villa Knell

I hear that poets should show but never tell
All I can do  with wit is cogitate.
Will  I fly to inner  space as well?

I earn enough,more than the going rate
I use black pens and you should see my state
My muse has gone to Hades,  give her hell
Oh,  I  am   lured to  ink dark  space as well!

Tv Ads

There's nothing like a TV ad.
A crass intrusion to a play,
It shreds my nerves and makes me mad.

And some of them are really bad
The products too – they'll make you pay;
There's nothing like a TV ad.

The use of animals is sad :
Chimps “talking”, drinking tea all day !
It shreds my nerves and makes me mad.

But Russian meerkats make me glad,
To buy insurance ?  Well, I may –
There's nothing like a TV ad.

A bicycle pushed by a lad
Up cobbled street with brown loaf, aye,
It shreds my nerves and makes me mad.

And now I'll take a break, by gad,
A drink's the tonic, so they say,
There's nothing like a TV ad.
They shred my nerves and make me mad
© Mike Jones  Create an image from this poem.

Premium MemberA Place of Goodbyes

A place of goodbyes is the earth
Each generation we let go
Heaven_ place of hellos and mirth

Whitey went_ will there be rebirth
Or with animals only end though
A place of goodbyes is the earth

Sadness overwhelmed_she had worth
Was good ratter now receives gateau
Heaven_ place of hellos and mirth

While here on this earth, let me unearth
And expand on my good traits let grow
A place of goodbyes is the earth

I'll leave_ take spiritual rebirth
Put on my countenance's warm glow
Heaven_ place of hellos and mirth

All will leave in flight that is dearth
Now new body on me bestow
A place of goodbyes is the earth
Heaven_place of hellos and mirth

Click on "About This Poem"

Love Me, Feed Me

Feed me, Love Me

My life’s in constant turmoil,
Everything tastes like fish.
Friskies, Tender Vittles and Purina
It all goes in my dish.

All I want is to be pet,
And to play with a mouse or two.
I wait for you to come back home,
What else is there to do?

But I am a patient little kitty,
Just look into my big bright eyes.
My love I’ll freely give to you,
Life’s perfect, golden prize.

Premium MemberNight Stalker

Within the forest’s dream of night’s true fright
shadows twist obsidian trees torment,
the cypress writhe in blood moon’s bright delight.

The hunter hides his nascent lust for might 
and so the doe flees by man’s bow unbent,  
within the forest’s dream of night’s true fright.
	
The cypress writhes in blood moon’s bright delight,
bedevil not the finer soul, repent,
the destined deed, must feed, man’s plight.

With deadly skill, fletched shaft sheers frosty night.
The horned hart does fall in wonderment, 		
within the forest’s dream of night’s true fright.

And torment flows in drops of crimson sight,
distorting right and light with man’s intent.
The cypress writhes in blood moon’s bright delight

Into the holy water blood rings light
for life is all and death is but dissent, 
within the forest’s dream of night’s true fright,
the cypress writhes in blood moon’s bright delight.

Premium MemberHeavenly Tune

There's a sweet melody in that room
Close to God on his shining throne
For Kenny is singing in perfect tune

Accompanied by David's harp and croon
Kenny is singing the sweetest song
There's a sweet melody in that room

Kenny's crown is reflecting glory shone
Know that  he never did any wrong
For Kenny is singing in perfect tune

Jesus just loves to hear him sing a tune
Some of the most melodious songs
There's  a sweet melody in that room

Chirp, chirp, chirp he croons
All the angels join in the throng
For Kenny is singing in perfect tune

Gifted with the voice of gold 
Singing now tunes all untold
There's a sweet melody in that room
For Kenny is singing in perfect tune

Premium MemberGirl In Red Cotton Hose

Barn dancing, taffy pulling, bobing for apples
Enters the girl with the red cotton hose 
Riding in a wagon pulled by horse of gray dappled

Prettiest girl, girl of his dreams, her smile was ample
Asking her for a dance he's so glad he chose
Barn dancing, taffy pulling, bobing for apples

So much fun those community socials one can't grapple
At the notion, meeting new people where love can grow
Riding in wagon pulled by horse of gray dappled

Fun in the hay all the way as they rode as a couple
Now more fun inside the barn my she has cutest nose
Barn dancing, taffy pulling, bobing for apples

Bobing for apples showing her how to grapple
All the way down, show her how it goes
Riding in wagon pulled by horse gray dappled

So much fun with the girl in red cotton hose
Some day after love with her grows their children goes
Barn dancing, taffy pulling, bobing for apples
Riding in the wagon pulled by a horse gray dappled

The Wildebeast

Save this animal from it's fate.
Before it is too late.
Don't sit back and watch the sight.
Of thousands of animals, day and night.
Pile up dead.

Help to save them.
You can too.
Don't talk. See it through.
A Thousand bulldozers, tractors, all.
A thousand drivers, mechanics, all.
The cliffs to fall.

They must migrate for food.
The way, we can show.
To come and go.
In safety and quality.
Without the terrible agony.

No holiday this year.
The money give here.
Sit on your sofa.
Think it over.
Watch them live not die.

................................

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