Music Villanelle Poems | Examples
These Music Villanelle poems are examples of Villanelle poems about Music. These are the best examples of Villanelle Music poems written by international poets.
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
These stairs have wept a million tears
walking from parking lot to hospital room
Hearts travel them, to meet their worst fears
Through shadows and shame, past years
Blessed by the memoires who consume
These stairs have wept a million tears
With the music of a soul ringing in my ears
There’s more love and grace than gloom
Hearts travel them, to meet their worst fears
Families, friends, echoing their cheers
There’s more to this story than doom
These stairs have wept a million tears
The room grows silent when the dust clears
Soon the dream’s soundless spring will bloom
Hearts travel them, to meet their worst fears
In seas of wonder, my gentle volunteers
Remembering, He once rose from a tomb
These stairs have wept a million tears
Hearts travel them, to meet their worst fears
A tune that’s doused in giocoso
will leave listeners with a full heart;
It bleeds with a rhythm staccato;
Fly guitar that’s not born to follow
joins forces that act like a kickstart;
A tune that’s doused in giocoso;
Sangere holding a melos with flow
throws that lyrical poisonous dart;
It bleeds with a rhythm staccato;
The message is kind but not mellow,
it’s more like a ferocious jumpstart;
A tune that’s doused in giocoso;
Falling into a chorus you know,
three minutes and thirty of fine art;
It bleeds with a rhythm staccato;
He’s such a graceful virtuoso,
emotions he tends to pick apart;
A tune that’s doused in giocoso,
it bleeds with a rhythm staccato.
Halloween carols ring growth and gore,
setting off those shivers on repeat;
They end with a scream forevermore;
Enough to make your skull hit the floor,
dressed as a slasher all nice and neat;
Halloween carols ring growth and gore;
Echoing even through a closed door,
their chorus a loud hum down the street;
They end with a scream forevermore;
Nature’s masquerade you can’t ignore,
red leaves split into morbid deceit;
Halloween carols ring growth and gore;
To serenade with songs of horror
maintain rhythm stay light on your feet;
They end with a scream forevermore;
Always looking back for what’s in store
lost in that ageless hook ‘Trick or treat’;
Halloween carols ring growth and gore,
they end with a scream forevermore.
September dreams follow the night,
Whispering peace, sighing soft and still,
Like music, echoing the soul’s delight.
October visions seek those she’ll excite,
Shadowing the spirit with dewdrop’s spill,
September dreams follow the night,
November imaginings color hearts right,
Glorious dreams the soul will fulfill,
Like music, echoing the soul’s delight.
Melting moments that poets soon write.
Autumn’s kindness brings such a thrill.
September dreams follow the night,
Rustlings of crisp leaves, beneath moonlight,
Pouring out hope across the morning chill,
Like music, echoing the soul’s delight.
Leaves cling to souls when they take flight,
Leaving memories of autumn’s goodwill,
September dreams follow the night,
Like music, echoing the soul’s delight.
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
Zinnia Jazz called at the daybreak of Spring
The bees buzzed "how on earth does your garden grow?"
And the fresh season tapped in time with a zing
Bearing trowels and soil, the green fingered sing
With love and Godspeed where the sun is aglow
Zinnia Jazz called at the daybreak of Spring
Butterflies fluttered a tune with a soft swing
Circling to watch seedlings, raise their bows below
And the fresh season tapped in time with a zing
I ponder the music this blessing may bring
Nurturing my floral scores to sprout and grow
Zinnia Jazz called at the daybreak of Spring
To yield classic creations - I know one thing
It’s good to have a skilled gardener in tow
And the fresh season tapped in time with a zing
Summer opened the performance with a fling
Where arrays of rich colours and great heights flow
Zinnia Jazz called at the daybreak of Spring
And the fresh season tapped in time with a zing
RIVERBANK
The river of life flows fast toward the weir
This scene is now reality, not a pantomime
So smile for the ferryman as he draws near
Is that sweet music that you can now hear
It is calling softly with a melody so sublime
The river of life flows fast toward the weir
There are now only memories to hold dear
As recent years pass, they no longer rhyme
So smile for the ferryman as he draws near
Be resigned to one’s fate, then shed a tear
The underworld is calling, no need to climb
The river of life flows fast toward the weir
Shared understanding as others gather here
In the distance, can you hear the bell chime
So smile for the ferryman as he draws near
With no more to be done, it would appear
The beginning of the end, now is your time
The river of life flows fast toward the weir
So smile for the ferryman as he draws near
Humming just like an electric daisy
a cloudless sky filled with high voltage;
The underlying sound calms my crazy;
Smoke from the trains rather hazy
zoom zoom on elevated wattage;
Humming just like an electric daisy;
It’s like the song was made just for me,
listening to music scented with sage;
The underlying sound calms my crazy;
Biological senses reconstruct reality,
you escape your body’s weak cage;
Humming just like an electric daisy;
Creating art out of mental debris
motivated by eliminating carnage;
The underlying sound calms my crazy;
Inner peace so prevalent lately
some may say I rely on a mirage;
Humming just like an electric daisy,
the underlying sound calms my crazy.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop,
my bones, and joints won’t listen to my commands.
I spend most of my days picking up dog poop.
Don't get me wrong I'm happy to be in my age group,
I must admit I'm not fond of these wild grey strands.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop.
Sometimes I play bingo with an amazing silver troop,
but I miss dancing to live music and big bands.
I spend most of my days picking up dog poop.
Or talking to my friend Flo who gives me the scoop,
I long to take several trips to faraway lands.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop.
As I sit daydreaming, I snap to; hubby is a big snoop
What am I to do when life and age make demands?
I spend most of my days picking up dog poop.
In the end, I feel youthful although I can’t hula hoop,
I'm ok as I stare at these wrinkled old hands.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop,
I spend most of my day picking up dog poop.
05/4/2023
Contest: “Y” Challenge Words
Sponsor: Constance La France
Whispers
Listen to the whispers in the winds,
In the rolling waves of the wildflower on the hills,
Where poppies dance and flaunt their golden colors.
Hear the musical chirp of the little birds,
Enjoying the vast yellow mustard fields,
Listen to the whispers in the winds,
Spring has arrived with flowers in vivid colors,
Hummingbird forever whispers and hovers on the daffodils,
Where poppies dance and flaunt their golden colors.
The delicate pink lily magnolia scatters her petals in the winds,
It is a red petal beauty bestowed on trees and land,
Listen to the whispers in the winds.
The charming Monarch butterfly, adorned with painted wings, kissing flowers,
She must be whispering her silent music on milkweed wildflower in spring,
Where poppies dance and flaunt their golden colors.
All the spring splendor does not only show in day lights,
Hear the nightingale serenade her music on cherry blossoms trees in moonlit starry nights,
Listen to the whispers in the winds,
Where poppies dance and flaunt their golden colors.
What she might have been was hidden
Beneath self-destruction and depression
Despair so black it silenced light, war-ridden
Life without purpose, true love forbidden
Leaving darkest doubt lost in the impression
What she might have been was hidden
Her emotions, joy and hope, bedridden
A hole in her soul reflects every transgression
Despair so black it silenced light, war-ridden
Wonders in tears, promise of love, backslidden
Suicide whispering like a taunting obsession
What she might have been was hidden
Love cried out to her but she simply didn’t
Hear its voice – its feeling a wonderous confession
Despair so black it silenced the light, war-ridden
The music of prayers erasing suspicions, unbidden
Warring inside her, awful confusion and aggression
What she might have been was hidden
Despair so black it silenced the light, war-ridden
Ballerina
A dainty dancer statue graces a busy pathway
Grace on perfect point for all to see
Heaven’s music beats in her heart every day
Clear crystal happiness begs me to dance her way
In summer’s lilting arabesque with lady bugs and bees
A dainty dancer statue graces a busy pathway
I flow in cadence with the joy of her ballet
As springtime daffodils dance with me
Heaven’s music beats in her heart every day
She pirouettes as golden leaves swing and sway
I follow her steps in the dance of scarlet trees
A dainty dancer statue graces a busy pathway
I twirl with her in swirling snowflake play
When winter leaves a frosty filigree
Heaven’s music beats in her heart every day
Through every season she begs me dance fall to May
To leap and laugh with her in the dance of life
Heaven’s music beats in her heart every day
A dainty dancer statue graces a busy pathway
1-22-22
Contest; V Poems
Sponsor: Constance La France
“V” form chosen - Villanelle
Dedicated to my granddaughter on her sixteenth birthday
There is a bronze statue of a little ballerina on the mall at the Old Orchard Mall. This statue is the source of my inspiration for this poem.
When all the noises around me are still,
I most clearly hear the voices in my head
It is then I experience the ultimate thrill.
Of melodies churning in my mind until
They find pleasure in my fingers instead,
When all the noises around me are still.
My fingers race across the keys in a trill,
Sometimes when I am asleep in my bed,
It is then I experience the ultimate thrill.
At the pianoforte, in my dreams, fulfill
The sonatas in the right key my soul bled,
When all the noises around me are still.
I hear the applause of an audience till
An encore plays over and over, I am lead
It is then I experience the ultimate thrill.
As I cannot seem to get ovations to fill
My heart and soul are insatiably fed,
It is then I experience the ultimate thrill
When all the noises around me are still.
Written November 21, 2022
"What is life but a succession of preludes to unwritten words . . . "
Quote by_Constance La France
The creative urge of our vibrant soul
articulates poetry when it heeds
pulse of divine consciousness we extol.
Navigating life to fulfil our role,
without any doubt love magnetism leads
the creative urge of our vibrant soul.
To rise from limitation and feel whole,
drawn to love’s beauteous rhythm soul needs
pulse of divine consciousness we extol.
Knowing our aura is blackened like coal,
oh hermit, know God's boundless grace yet feeds
the creative urge of our vibrant soul.
Making unique music, being our goal,
empty like space, purity of heart speeds
pulse of divine consciousness we extol.
We paint the canvas by ceding control,
as the burning yearning to ink love seeds
the creative urge of our vibrant soul;
pulse of divine consciousness we extol.
14-November-2022
HMS, Rhymezone, PS Grammar
Theme: Writing
WRITING CHALLENGE - ''V'' Forms Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France