Life Villanelle Poems | Examples
These Life Villanelle poems are examples of Villanelle poems about Life. These are the best examples of Villanelle Life poems written by international poets.
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
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 path is lost where wild winds press,
No compass holds beneath the sky—
We walk alone through wilderness.
The thorns of time, the weight of stress,
The silent trees that do not lie—
The path is lost where wild winds press.
Regret is thick, and hope grows less,
Yet still we look, and still we try—
We walk alone through wilderness.
The stars are veiled, the nights are guess,
And every answer asks us why—
The path is lost where wild winds press.
But in the dark, we still confess
That somewhere deep, a flame won’t die—
We walk alone through wilderness.
Though life may wound and dreams digress,
Our spirit bends but will not die—
The path is lost where wild winds press,
We walk alone through wilderness.
I lose something at every step towards the future,
I don’t know what or may just not remember,
but I lose it evermore at every step
I can’t say why and I can’t say how for I don’t even know myself,
it’s a curse that consumes me more and more at my every step,
I see the future but I always lurk on the past,
I just wish that I could know what it was that I’m losing
I stare at the future and I reach out to it but something stops me,
a slug of my past drenching me in my pain not letting me leave this plain of former days,
I try to leave it behind but the mark remains,
and as I walk ahead I can’t help but look back once more,
I can feel myself being sent back to the beginning of this everlasting stroll,
It makes me wonder why I'm here in this sadden place
I can’t help but stop at where I am,
I just want to give up and let the past consume me,
but no matter how much I try it just lingers on me not letting me go back further,
It won’t let me go deeper into my former happier life,
It makes me survive another day no matter how much I don’t want to but it makes me regret everything,
It slowly takes a bit of me at every step along the frightful day.
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
"Fool," said my Muse to me; "look in thy heart and write."
Quote by_ Sir Philip Sidney,
English Poet, 1554-1586
Within my soul burns an eternal light,
it never dies but at times it may dim;
my life like a movie in black and white.
I conceive in quiet words to write,
comtemplating long before I begin;
within my soul burns an eternal light.
At times my thoughts turn to stone then take flight,
subdued, I find my inner light within;
my life like a movie in black and white.
True, that with my poems sometimes I fight,
inspired by notes of a staid violin;
within my soul burns an eternal light.
I am conscious that my life flame burns bright,
in prayer I thank God - for it is him;
my life like a movie in black and white.
When I am done, I ask, "you like it right ?"
for using this flame to pen is no whim;
within my soul burns an eternal light,
my life like a movie in black and white.
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn,
reckless and just a bit larger than life;
For desire and a little fire we yearn;
So much of the Universe left to learn
cutting through time with a celestial knife;
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn;
Locked in a galactic waltz at each turn
she’d gladly stay with all that joy so rife;
For desire and a little fire we yearn;
Solar winds can sporadically downturn,
among a supernova there’s no strife;
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn;
The need for absolute freedom is stern,
led by the sweet rebellion of a fife;
For desire and a little fire we yearn;
Venus armed with a path of no return
amorous blues always chase the good life;
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn,
for desire and a little fire we yearn.
Names, gestures, and words so oft are empty
In actions, we find a true meaning worthy to knife
To grow is to walk a serene valley you fill of plenty
Of hollow praise and false flattery, be weary
We shed the skins of our former, unripe life
Names, gestures, and words so oft are empty
Our wills are rivers, carving through stony indifference
Acts of love and words of kindness cut through strife
To grow is walking a serene valley you fill of plenty
Seeking truth in every course, holding every moment near
Learning to read the signs that speak beyond lies, run rife
Names, gestures, and words so oft are empty
Now, in this quest for meaning, stripped of all pretense,
So give thanks; awakened to join the dance found underlife
To grow is to walk a serene valley you fill of plenty
Become the silence of your actions, pure and steady,
Find yourselves, your souls, burning fate's own woodknife
Names, gestures, and words so oft are empty,
To grow is to walk a serene valley you fill of plenty
Each day a lesson, sun sets and sun will rise,
Time we embrace, with courage to ascend,
To be or do better, with clear, steady eyes.
Our will, our choice, our resolve that defies,
Strength drawn from moments we seek to amend,
Each day a lesson, sun sets and sun will rise.
We falter, we triumph, we dance under skies,
Sin we may, yet through trials, we won’t bend,
To be or do better, with clear, steady eyes.
Though hurdles appear and hopes may seem lies,
We press on, through hardships that life may send,
Each day a lesson, sun sets and sun will rise.
In tragedy’s shadow, compassion applies,
Revealing true souls both pure and pretend,
To be or do better, with clear, steady eyes.
Love remains free, wanting hearts’ subtle ties,
A flame in the dark, on which we depend,
Each day a lesson, sun sets and sun will rise,
To be or do better, with clear, steady eyes.
I wonder why these words are short
When they should have been rather long,
That, we have fair time to abort.
Fine, we’re not in judicial court,
Nor are scared of the judge’s gong,
Wonder still why the words are short.
There are those caught as if in fort
And feel, an abrupt ‘no’ is wrong,
Wish, they’d enough time to abort,
And say no in a polite sort
Of way that sounds a sweet dingdong,
I wonder why yes too is short.
None of the two should be so curt
And should be said like a sweet song
That gives enough time to abort.
To say them well’s a rare fine art
T’be cultivated all along,
I wonder why these words are short,
We need enough time to abort.
___________________________
Villanelle |02.10.2024|word, yes, no
Poet’s note: We often find it so difficult to say no, we are forced to say yes under pressure. Why? Perhaps both ‘yes’ and’ no’ as words are so short, they do not give us enough time to think. This Villanelle is born from this lack of comfort.
To reach to thy heart
I wrote poems all my life.
Too late on my part
When I knew in utter strife,
The roadblocks were far too rife.
I am the tundra barren cold and numb
A frozen wasteland where no light can reach
Between these poles, my insatiate self-succumbs.
In icy silence where no whimpers humb
My thoughts like glaciers grind, erode, and breach
I am the tundra, barren, cold, and numb.
The Amazon within once vital thrumb
Of life and hope now withers out of reach
Between these poles my insatiate self-succumbs.
Anxiety a howling blizzard's sumb
Entombs me deep a creature bleached of speech.
I am the tundra, barren, cold, and numb.
Depression creeps permafrost of my slumb
While echoes of lost joy my soul beseech
Between these poles, my insatiate self-succumbs.
Yet in this waste, where all seems overcome
A seed of strength cracks ice defies the leech
I am the tundra, barren, cold, and numb.
Between these poles, my insatiate self-succumbs.
I know here and there I stand
to surmount a hurt of unknown
differences, if not something bad.
The devil may go anticlockwise
but, I how dear
how bold, I know I supposed.
Supposing I have to start
start from the past century
then, how many cups of tea or coffee
I should drink tonight?.
Or supposing this country of mine
I wished to change with another, another
how to endure and where.
Or supposing Africa and America
and Europe and Asia and Australia
are continents, how technocracy or aba?.
Like just brother the years to come
the wind a thing, the world
like em, em, em,..........
somewhat is something
which I felt is this sometimes wither
in life.
Soundless words, pierce, then flow
Like the wind, whose story God wrote
Restless dreams whisper their glow
Joy stirs the music, the songs who know
He restores souls with His gentle note
Soundless words, pierce, then flow
Softly caressing winds, swirl and blow
Listening to the poetry hearts can quote
Restless dreams whisper their glow
Rustle of leaves, swooshing to and fro
Grace that God’s word shall promote
Soundless words, pierce, then flow
Winter drifts in with blessings of snow
Reflections arising from God’s lifeboat
Restless dreams whisper their glow
Gentle kiss of peace, to the Savior I owe
To Him, my life and love I’ll ever devote
Soundless words, pierce, then flow
Restless dreams whisper their glow
Know, life’s no length of happiness,
Imbued ‘tis in uncertainty,
Life’s little but imperfectness.
What defines life is fleetingness--
An artwork drawn on sands of sea,
Life is no length of happiness.
Scarce is eternity its case,
Nor its goal nor end ever be,
Its nickname is imperfectness
That gives to life meaning, no less--
A raft to rescue from mid sea,
Mere ticks define life’s happiness.
Mere moments, no more to get blessed--
Moments of immortality,
For life lives in imperfectness.
Joy and bliss is no ‘thing’ to guess,
Emanating from within me,
Life is no length of happiness,
It’s little but imperfectness.
____________________________
Villanelle |23.08.2024| life, joy, happiness
Poet’s note: Read also ‘O to live full, not long’.