Family Villanelle Poems | Examples

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


Premium MemberUntouched Treasure The Goonies Tribute

A pirate’s pile of untouched treasure,
that’s said to belong to One-eyed Willy.
It’s never been found, no not ever. 

The map shows we have to be clever,
don’t you realize what you could see?
A pirate’s pile of untouched treasure.

Family ties we must briefly sever 
in order to truly become a Goonie.
It’s never been found, no not ever. 

For social disease this is the cure,
the way to avoid a catastrophe. 
A pirate’s pile of untouched treasure. 

Here and now matters later is over,
our chance gone as swift as the sea.
It’s never been found, no not ever. 

This mad idea may make you shiver, 
don’t you realize it’s meant to be?!
A pirate’s pile of untouched treasure.
It’s never been found, no not ever.


Premium MemberBeloved

The God of all creation loves you most.
Family, friends and neighbors love you too.
You are His masterpiece, and Heaven's boast.

Our self-defeating lies are so morose!
The crux is nothing matters more than truth!
The God of all creation loves you most.

Hold fast to God and ask the Holy Ghost
For revelation yielding precious fruit.
You are His masterpiece, and Heaven's boast.

Let the highest power: love, draw you close.
Find victory and joys you’ve lost since youth
The God of all creation loves you most.

Sing again, ask God to grant a great dose
Of outpouring to revive and to sooth.
You are His masterpiece, and Heaven's boast.

Rest in assurance of faith in our host
Find strength, hope and love in His prayer booth.
The God of all creation loves you most.
You are His masterpiece, and heaven's boast
© Tom Valles  Create an image from this poem.

Premium MemberI'M, We'Re, Growing

I am, as were my parents before me,
undoubtedly, their parents before them...
perpetuating our family tree.

Trusting in God, and Jesus Christ is key
to their faith, as well as my own, Amen!
I am, as were my parents before me.

The Word leads us beyond reality,
together in Grace, despite the mayhem,
perpetuating our family tree.

"What's what?", "The what's/' are not," and, "('s) is," would be
from whence my life had grown from a tree's stem--
I am, as were my parents before me.

Saints behold, Heaven on Earth, all set free.
Caught amidst thistles, the Shepherd unjam,
perpetuating our family tree.

Faithful prayers transcend miracles daily,
rainfalls on forest' ... gift grows to a gem.
I am, as were my parents before me,
perpetuating our family tree.
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium MemberShe Moved Upstairs

our angel who sleeps so peacefully there
the foundation that supports all our lives
no momma' didn't die; she moved upstairs

hands that can play Amazing Grace with flair
a melody that will lift and suprise
our angel who sleeps so peacefully there

she bakes her cakes with a dollop of air
not to mention those sweet potato pies
no momma' didn't die; she moved upstairs

there is this look, I guess you could say stare
she will give when dissecting truth from lies
our angel who sleeps so peacefully there

take nothing from her, but ask and she'll share
faith in God rests behind Midwestern eyes
no momma' didn't die; she moved upstairs

her framed picture holds a lock of brown hair
and seems to speak to us her words so wise
our angel who sleeps so peacefully there
no momma' didn't die; she moved upstairs
© Ricky Muse  Create an image from this poem.

Premium MemberThe Sycamore Tree

I was born to breathe free, outdoors  
count my rings and you will know how old I am 
I come from a family of sycamores 

I own a massive trunk when eagles soar 
they perch upon my branch they do yes mam 
although my roots run deep inside the floor  

I am durable with growth you can't ignore 
my peels are white, tan and green dear Sam 
adaptable in most soils I outlive the albacore 

I prefer direct sun and in Egyptian folklore  
I am also known as the Holy Tree of man 
connecting both worlds now forevermore 

Often found by river beds by open shore  
my bulk is sensitive without sham  
I was born to breathe free, outdoors 
I come from a family of sycamores 

Sept 2, 2022


Premium MemberSweet Dreams of Youth

Sweet dreams of youth sweet dreams of youth; sweet dreams are sweet with
    melons and dew from the morning mist to give our youth the hopes and 
    dreams  of achievement. Sweet dreams of youth to be happy, marry, lots
    of money and a big family.  Sweet dreams of youth to have a life long career,
    and to retire happy. 

    Is it too much to sweet dream at night? Are sweet dreams especially for the
    youth? Only time will tell if a sweet dream is real or just a sweet dream.
    Sweet dreams of youth are inspiring and long-lasting. Sweet Dreams
    drive the mind, soul and body to keep moving forward, even when the forces
    of nature are not in your corner. Sweet Dreams; who makes them? 
    Who desires them, and who acts in them? Sweet dreams of youth. How
    precious are these dreams? Sweet dreams of youth: Dream on, Dream on;
    communication with the subconscious and the inner soul!!! Sweet dreams
   of youth.

Premium MemberOne Poet's Confession

Sometimes my mind wanders aimlessly
I find myself indulging in silly frivolity,
When I think about it, rather shamelessly.

Occasionally I pen things distastefully,
Not considering my life’s finer quality
Sometimes my mind wanders aimlessly.

Often, I am reminded of this by family
In their special positions and filial capacity
When I think about it, rather shamelessly.

And taken to task, I react apologetically,
For I sometimes get trapped in triviality
Sometimes my mind wanders aimlessly.

I’m guilty of some silliness unabashedly,
I have even written my share of parody
When I think about it, rather shamelessly.

Most of these I’ve kept sealed hermetically
Lately, I’ve indulged in some bawdy comedy
Sometimes my mind wanders aimlessly
When I think about it, rather shamelessly.

written March 23, 2022
revised March 24, 2022

Premium MemberFestering Wound

The family ties are frayed by a festering wound
The siblings are fighting over their parent’s will,
The oldest brother a younger sister has impugned.

As fighting continued, another sister was marooned
Months have passed and the arguments rage still,
The family ties are frayed by a festering wound.

Threatening behavior, accusations, anger ballooned,
Some children are refusing to pay the funeral bill,
The oldest brother a younger sister has impugned.

Several in-laws have found themselves lampooned,
Although they have kept their hands out of the mill,
The family ties are frayed by a festering wound.

Sadly, the children and cousins are being groomed
Even some family “friends” have come in for the kill
The oldest brother a younger sister has impugned.

Now, some have hired lawyers who are fine-tuned
And anxious to get their greedy hands in the till,
The family ties are frayed by a festering wound
The oldest brother a younger sister has impugned.

[Festering Wound]

FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written March 4, 2022
Especially for “Pick-a-Title Vol. 29” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh

Premium MemberJill's Segregationist Family Attacks-

Jill couldn't stop thinking about the blacks
she was just so hot and red so mad
But she could never forget the feedback

That morning, Jill was shocked by the sack
She had to calm herself with a tread
Jill couldn't stop thinking about the acts

Those acts of violence against her African-American friends

Later, Jill was spooked by a plaque
She tried to focus on the sacks (over their heads)
But she could never forget the feedback
Boxes filled with rags
Marching wit flags, White supremacist
Jill took action like a crack
The black was like a toxic head
But she could never forget the feedback

tried to distract her with a packs
Said her mind had become too overhead


Jill nosedived like a bad stack
Her mind became dangerously dread
By those people colored medium dark brown
Jill couldn't stop thinking about the blacks
But she could never forget the feedback
Why? Her father was a southern governmental segregationist

12/16/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2021©

In the Land Where the Bears and Tigers Sleep

In the land where the bears and tigers sleep
Rests the man whom I had once called brother,
And he climbed over his mountains so steep.

We snuck under the warm blankets so deep
To hear bedtime stories from our mother
In the land where the bears and tigers sleep.

The boy grew into a man with a leap—
He knew there were new grounds to discover,
And he climbed over his mountains so steep.

The profits of his labors he did reap,
To support his significant other,
In the land where the bears and tigers sleep.

In his life, changes continued to sweep, 
Facing one challenge after another,
And he climbed over his mountains so steep.

The pains of life have taught us all to weep,
But from worldly wounds he will recover,
In the land where the bears and tigers sleep,
And he climbed over his mountains so steep.

© 2021

Premium MemberBurial of a Young Soldier

The bugles will sound in the distant courtyard
The proud soldier came home from the cause,
Many tears will be shed with noted regard.

A much-decorated warrior in the vanguard,
The dress military uniform he will wear because
The bugles will sound in the distant courtyard.

The family will receive a beautiful mass card
“Our Fathers” will be recited without pause,
Many tears will be shed with noted regard.

He died so young, consciences will be jarred
Candles will be lighted with silent applause,
The bugles will sound in the distant courtyard.

For many understanding his sacrifice is hard
Was he born just to die for this unworthy cause?
Many tears will be shed with noted regard.
 
His family will receive a flag and his lanyard
His soul is entrusted to the man on the cross,
The bugles will sound in the distant courtyard
Many tears will be shed with noted regard.  

FIRST PLACE WINNER
written June 23, 2021
Brian Strand's "All Yours" Poetry Contest

Premium MemberWhen They Exhume My Poems

When I die
I give the Pulitzer Board 
Permission
To exhume my lyrics

And some overweight ME
Will put my verses on a slab
Going thru my stanzas for tone
looking for assonance and 
Consonance in my bones

As my family waits around to see
If i really was a great poet

And they will probe my lines 
for cadence
Meter and Trochee
Taking notes
As they dissect
My poetry

They will say I was anemic 
On my tercets
And many of my quatrains were forced
As they search for the source

One of the examiners 
will write on his tablet
That I never wrote 
A Sestina or villanelle

They will note, He was good.
But his books didn't really sell.

The NAACP will close that he didn’t
Represent the Black community 
Like King or Rosa Parks
Leaving my legacy a question mark

And no one will be specifically sure
If I advanced the Black Race

Leaving the matter a Cold Case


My kids will ask
But what does all this mean?
Was he really a great poet?
 Was he as good as Frost or Hughes
The examiner will stare confused


The autopsy will be intrusive
And they will say: 

REPORT INCONCLUSIVE!!

Premium MemberA Far Cry

Hopeless cries from faraway Africa are heard 
Searing sands of Ethiopia cry for sustainable water 
Children are dying, never having spoken a word. 

Desperate fathers guard the starving cattle herd 
As temperatures rise, getting hotter and hotter 
Hopeless cries from faraway Africa are heard. 

Mothers with helpless eyes, sticky and blurred, 
Cling fast to their tiny, sickened son or daughter 
Children are dying, never having spoken a word. 

Their last meal shared a small portion of curd 
They dare not a precious newborn calf slaughter 
Hopeless cries from faraway Africa are heard. 

Sounds of mourning nearby, a family gathered 
Neighboring families too weak to console a father 
Children are dying, never having spoken a word. 

Here in America with our wealth we have erred 
Someday the wealthy piper must pay the potter 
Hopeless cries from faraway Africa are heard 
Children are dying, never having spoken a word. 


THIRD PLACE WINNER
Written April 11, 2021
For "This or That, Vol 2" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh

Premium MemberChristmas Day

What joy we feel on Christmas Day
For children everywhere a thrill
Gifts have arrived on Santa's sleigh

Our tree, a colourful display
With lights, glitter and much tinsel
What joy we feel on Christmas Day

All the family here today
To celebrate and show goodwill
Gifts have arrived on Santa's sleigh

Church service; now we're off to pray
We walk as the first snowflakes fall
What joy we feel on Christmas Day

Now back to feast without delay
To quaff good ale and eat our fill
Gifts have arrived on Santa's sleigh

Carol singers now come our way
Collecting for those folk with nil
What joy we feel on Christmas Day
Gifts have arrived on Santa's sleigh

The Bird Princess

The Bird Princess has gorgeous red cropped 
Feathered curly hair 
Which matches her alabaster skin
For this young lady is very fair.
I haven't seen anyone who can compare
To Opaline
The Bird princess has gorgeous red cropped 
Feathered curly hair
With hazel eyes. Beware!
She is genuine
Very fair
And rare
This blood kin.
The Bird princess has gorgeous red cropped 
Feathered curly hair.
If you see her. You will stop and stare
At this feminine
For she is very fair.
Opaline goes everywhere
And people wonder of her origin.
The Bird Princess has gorgeous red cropped
Feathered curly hair
Along with being very fair.

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