School Villanelle Poems | Examples
These School Villanelle poems are examples of Villanelle poems about School. These are the best examples of Villanelle School poems written by international poets.
Schooling life- a main pursuit to learn,
Is surrounded by various impairments:
As much as catching fun-fill cruises, spurn!
Easier said than done- taking the right turn;
Good enough to measure apt adjustments,
Schooling life- a main pursuit to learn.
Goals avoid suffering consequential burn;
Been on phone longer than reading confronts-
As much as catching fun-fill cruises, spurn!
Aims widen scopes to balance grades concern
"Phone-'let there be light;' book- darkness affronts"
Schooling life- a main pursuit to learn.
Objectives object what football games yearn,
Both on field and view centre attachments,
As much as catching fun-fill cruises, spurn!
Late night matches during exams, pattern
Crying-read sleepy eyes' grace advancements...
Schooling life-a main pursuit to learn,
As much as catching fun-fill cruises, spurn!
I think of summertime as an old friend,
for it’s when school let out and I could play!
Just like a young girl, still I hate its end.
I know that summer’s just around the bend
when warmer days begin in early May.
I think of summertime as an old friend.
I long for days when at the pool I’d spend
my time with pals. In sun’s gold rays I lay!
Just like a young girl, still I hate its end.
On that vacation yearly I’d depend
for carefree days that left me no dismay.
I think of summertime as an old friend.
I always wished so badly to extend
those happy times that each fall went away.
Just like a young girl, still I hate its end.
Romantic August poetry I’ve penned.
I’d go back to those nights with no delay!
I think of summertime as an old friend.
Just like a young girl, still I hate its end.
Aug. 23, 2022
For L. Milton Hankins' First Person Villanelle Poetry Contest
I remember those high school years
When being popular was so important,
I tried so hard to fit in with my peers.
Each grade was like changing gears
Readjusting to teachers was torment,
I remember those high school years.
I spent lots of time in laughter and tears
Some years wondering what it all meant,
I tried so hard to fit in with my peers.
Freshman year was rampant with fears,
Hoping the dean’s office never to be sent
I remember those high school years.
All through the sports’ jocks nasty sneers
I was a band boy carrying my instrument,
I tried so hard to fit in with my peers.
I think I may have even tried a few beers
Some credence with the guys that lent,
I remember those high school years
I tried so hard to fit in with my peers.
Written April 3, 2022
The trail is lovely here around the bend
The rains of spring have formed a clear, deep pool
God's handiwork, so delicately penned
The red buds, almost hard to comprehend
Adorned in pink and ruby colored jewels
The trail is lovely here around the bend
The crocuses, in purple, to what end?
The foliage, now greening, keeps them cool
God's handiwork, so delicately penned
The robin showing off to lady friend
The salamander naps beneath toadstools
The trail is lovely here around the bend
Mere form eclipsed, here, beauty far transcends
Design revealed to all but blinded fool
God's handiwork, so delicately penned
So much to take in as I slowly wend
My way through classwork not revealed in school
The trail is lovely here around the bend
God's handiwork, so delicately penned
—————
FIFTH PLACE WINNER
For the ‘An Original Villanelle Contest’ Poetry Contest
Sponsored by L Milton Hankins
Written 02/25/2022
Over in the meadowland the birds are singing
Warm weather portends the returning of spring
The bees have set about their pollen bringing.
Hopeful, bright spring days with excitement tingling
Cause our voices to shout out and lustily sing,
Over in the meadowland the birds are singing
While with glee my life’s breath is mingling
So happy I feel like life is gaudy glitter and bling
The bees have set about their pollen bringing.
Spring to me reminds of Barnum and Ringling
The colorful memories of childhood bring
Over in the meadowland the birds are singing.
I can reminisce about the high school flinging
The loss of my first love that brought a sting,
The bees have set about their pollen bringing.
The season of spring brings to me self-healing
More than anything else, a welcoming thing,
The bees have set about their pollen bringing
Over in the meadowland the birds are singing.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
edited April 7, 2022
written January 21, 2022
for "Springtime Villanelle" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Sotto Poet
You worked so hard but just exist.
Your high school grad dates you just missed,
evacuated from Ukraine.
In Russia’s army to resist,
you fought the tyrant Hitler’s reign.
You worked so hard but just exist
on meager pensions. You subsist
by choosing food or meds, that’s plain.
No other kinfolks to assist
in taking care of you in midst
of tears and shakes of flashback strain,
you worked so hard but just exist!
Although you made your job’s A-list,
you now wear rags, your joints in pain,
no other kinfolks to assist.
Your teeth all gone, in life’s mean twist,
these lines remain your grim refrain:
You worked so hard but just exist,
no other kinfolks to assist.
To help elderly Holocaust survivors in the former Soviet Union, visit the website of the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews at ifcj.org.
How we long to speak and yet we’re dumb
Fearing we shall sound like ignorant fools
Waiting for our first communion
When will we feel safe, not quiet nor numb?
Alexithmyic,affectless,how cruel
How we long to speak, why are we dumb?
How we odd ones value every crumb
How we want to learn , to use our tools
Waiting for our first communion
By the weight of politics undone
This was never taught in any school
How we long to speak, why are we dumb?
Economic miracle,. God’s come!
No log like this was ever made for Yule
Nor for our own first communion
Stay away from Logic and George Boole
Poetic life needs metaphors not rules
How we long to speak, why are we dumb
Struggling for the lost communion
Raine couldn't stop thinking about the mist
It was just so wet and cruel
But she could never forget the gist (wasssh)
O’ver lands and cradle lines
Valleys low at shore
That morning, Raine was shocked by the twist
She had to calm herself with a ridicule
Raine couldn't stop thinking about the mist (swisssh)
Later, Raine was spooked by the bliss
She tried to focus on a drool
But she could never forget the gist (wasssh)
thunder lightening
Rain pour down on me
Heated tried to distract her with a fist
Said it was time to start thinking about the pools
Raine couldn't stop thinking about the mist
Raine took action like a grist
The mist was like a toxic school
But she could never forget the gist
thunder lightening
Rain pour down on me
Raine nosedived like a white midst
Her mind turned into a vestibule
Raine couldn't stop thinking about the mist
But she could never forget the gist
12/22/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
A Villanelle verse
When I cannot tell you how I feel
When I want to see you ,not to speak,
I talk about the weather like a fool
Sometimes when I’m tired I feel unreal
Or life seems lost and meaning seems to leak
Then I can not tell you how I feel.
Some months have their winds to make misrule
Winds to throttle throats and freeze the cheeks
I talk about the weather ,as its cool.
We must keep moving or our blood congeals
So sheep must on moorland frosty, bleak
I don’t want to lie for life is real
When winter mocks our age I find it cruel
Yet you are old and for amusement look
I talk about the sunshine like a fool
Oh,happy snowfalls keeping us from school
As on the ice we tumbled with loud shrieks
When I cannor tell you how I feel
The weather stands for what I have concealed
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 22
Does the fault lie in us or in warring gods
Paragon Bard of Avon beg pardon
Do stars exert a force not owned by bards
Do stars grow heads of State to confuse gods
The trust we hoist high on flags flapless groan
Does the fault lie in us or in warring gods
He who blows horn for his god usurps his Lord’s
The Enlightened One begged us leave Him alone
Do stars exert a force not owned by bards
How many who blast themselves for their gods
Their holy books’ basic tenets condone
Does the fault lie in us or in warring gods
Let not religions parade on public roads
Prayer in the soul’s a private union
Do stars exert a force not owned by bards
Teach infants at school all about the gods
Till parents all know truth about religion
Does the fault lie in us or in warring gods
Do stars exert a force not owned by bards
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Consuming Failure
Pay heed the dancing chickens hot plate feet
lest you believe the music makes him strut
outrunning death by curried peppers sweet
the cooling of the iron his sole treat
keep moving to avoid the final cut
pay heed the dancing chickens hot plate feet
harsh tempo of perfections searing heat
obsession with the ifs, and whens, and buts
outrunning death by curried peppers sweet
performing in the hope of winning seat
an endless line that must remain uncut
pay heed the dancing chickens hot plate feet
there is in heated battle no retreat
for some the dancer’s door will soon slam shut
outrunning death by curried peppers sweet
accept in simple failure your defeat
perfections long sought peak a muddy rut
pay heed the dancing chickens hot plate feet
outrunning death by curried peppers sweet
6/12/2015
submitted to – Villanelle’s and Terzanelle’s Only – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Shadow Hamilton
The pain will never go away, it just stays.
Everyday he tried to keep his head held high,
but everything would change in just ten days.
They said boys will be boys, it’s just a phase,
but again they were wrong, just one more lie.
The pain will never go away, it just stays
Each year, each month, each day was just a haze,
and all he wanted was to say goodbye,
but everything would change in just ten days.
The words, the pain, were just a repeated phrase,
He was their target, a special bull’s eye.
The pain will never go away, it just stays.
School was pointless, just another maze.
One without escape, no matter how he try,
but everything would change in just ten days.
He made up his mind, and got no delays.
His last words: they were just simple goodbyes.
The pain will never go away, it just stays,
but everything did change, in just ten days.
When shadows of the evening fade,
And earth she wears her darkest dress,
It's magic time as stars parade,
Like jewels, into jet inlaid.
We gaze, as land and sky caress,
When shadows of the evening fade.
As daylight and the nightime trade,
The world still turns, for this we bless.
It's magic time as stars parade.
Our moon each night will serenade,
Her timeless flight, for loves success
When shadows of the evening fade.
The milky way's a silver braid,
Like diamonds sparkling in a tress.
It's magic time as stars parade.
The zodiac, earths rich brocade.
This bracelet , charms us with finesse,
When shadows of the evening fade.
It's magic time as stars parade.
I told Jan Allison this was the first poem i had ever written.
I was mistaken, recently i found an old school exercise book,
With a poem i wrote in 1951 aged 11. It was named The Tramp.
So i entered this on Poetry Soup also. Regards George.
8 / 31 / 2017.
It is tearing me apart, bit by bit,
the words; horrendous words they care to yell.
School... I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
Pushing, shoving, is there and end to it?
Again I am trapped; locked in an endless hell.
It is tearing me apart, bit by bit.
The staring, the whispers, it's a good fit,
for the victim who is afraid to tell.
School... I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
Another name, another bruise, one more slit,
will dying break me from this hurtful spell?
It is tearing me apart, bit by bit.
Why me? They won't stop so shall I just quit?
Pain, it's not worth it, sorry but farewell.
School... I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
Tears roll down as my life ends with a slit,
finally escaping this endless hell.
Finally, it tore me apart, bit by bit.
School... I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
I want to confess as I have committed a sin,
Sitting idly in my emotional incapacities
Conscious that this is only television screen.
I see people being butchered like flies therein
Women being gang-raped in large degrees
I want to confess as I have committed a sin.
The school kids getting burnt alive within,
Due to the negligence causing short circuits,
Conscious that this is only television screen.
With mere curiosity I watch each of the scenes,
I want to cry, get angry but can’t, my apologies!
I want to confess as I have committed a sin
I am taught not to dwell long on any scene,
As I can view next day’s batch of goodies
Conscious that this is only television screen.
All of my emotions whirled into the screen
Getting a call for hangout from my buddies.
I want to confess as I have committed a sin
Conscious that this is only television screen.
+++++++
May 2, 2014
Form: Villanelle
Fourth Place win
Contest: Irritate Me by Charlotte Puddifet