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Details | Villanelle | To Speak 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

Details | Villanelle | What I Need Concealed 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

Details | Villanelle | Those High School Years 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

Details | Villanelle | Circle of Sun - Fantasy Contest Rabbit’s sitting in a circle of sun as though they were in school watching a hula hoop being swung by one round and round the hoop swung mesmerizing in its swirl being watched by the cool  rabbit’s sitting in a circle of sun I watched as they sat entranced in the sun Playing silly games but always aware and nobody's fool watching a hula hoop being swirled by one Mother’s of the rabbits arrived at a run food in a hamper with cold drinks for the supercool rabbit’s sitting in a circle of sun Chase was next on the cards “touch your on”  was the favourite, except for the ones playing boule, watching a hula hoop being swirled by one. Next time your near a fairly glen tip toe in quietly and you might see these cool rabbit’s sitting in a circle of sun watching a hula hoop being swirled by one Penned 30 June 2013

Details | Villanelle | Farewell 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.

Details | Villanelle | To Holocaust Survivors In the Former Soviet Union 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.

Details | Villanelle | Amendable Stake of Life Back In School 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!

Details | Villanelle | Valedictorian May all our dreams forever stay Sparkling in our minds We won’t lose sight of what we want today Our school work is finished, we’ve written our last essay Perfected, is how we are defined May all our dreams forever stay Today, we stand as one, beating all cliché A clique like us, impossible to confine We won’t lose sight of what we want today When bewildered, we are not, afraid to kneel and pray Even in our youth, sometimes we must unwind May all our dreams forever stay Although we know not, what awaits us at bay Keep parading forward, ‘cause now there’s no rewind We won’t lose sight of what we want today We did it guys! Look at us in our array Success ahead and behind All our dreams will forever stay, We won’t lose sight of what we want today! For: Catie Lindsey-Villanelle Me contest © all rights reserved Written: 5/24/11

Details | Villanelle | Boys Will Be Boys 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.

Details | Villanelle | I Think of Summertime 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

Details | Villanelle | Villanelle: the Dilemma of the Non-Violent - 22 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

Details | Villanelle | So Delicately Penned 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

Details | Villanelle | I Want To Confess 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

Details | Villanelle | Amist of Raine Is Cruel- - 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

Details | Villanelle | DAD'S EMPTY BOAT-Villanelle Poetry Contest ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The boat still waits where water meets the shore, its hull a ghost of varnish, cracked and thin. Dad’s empty boat rides the waves no more. Motor sits idle—no strong hands the throttle to pull at dawn’s first blush or dusk’s slow-settling din. The boat still waits where water meets the shore. I trace the name he carved with patient score: Ninnie Poo—paint now like weathered skin. Dad’s empty boat rides the waves no more. The pines still lean as if they’re listening for his whistled tune, the hook’s sharp plink within. The boat still waits where water meets the shore. The perch still school where cattails root and sprawl, untroubled now by his net or his custom-made jig-spin. Dad’s empty boat rides the waves no more. The lake holds silence, calm and still with languor. Hushed wooden dock moans, wondering where Dad has been. The boat still waits where water meets the shore. Dad’s empty boat rides the waves no more.

Details | Villanelle | In the Meadowland 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

Details | Villanelle | My Growing Son Every night, my son prefers to watch late night movies. But early in the morning, he does n’t like to go to school, He complains he has a headache and his body feels heavies, When I suggested him to go to bed and don’t mix gravies, I want to watch football don’t disturb me dad, he replies, Every night, my son prefers to watch late night movies. Early in the morning, when he is late finds trouser navies, He blames against my daughter why she asks to get up early, He complains he has headache and body feels heavies. He always fights with girls and cries he deserves babies, And he beats them and claims why do they disturb him? Every night, my son prefers to watch late night movies. He plays games and don’t want to share his hobbies, Always watches his muscles and prefers to watch wrestling, He complains he has headache and body feels heavies. He also feels nervous when girls arranged lobbies, Why did you complain against him he clarifies? Every night, my son prefers to watch late night movies. He complains he has headache and body feels heavies.

Details | Villanelle | The Greatest Show On Earth 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.

Details | Villanelle | Radiant March God-blest, March … so wondrously radiant Shining birth month of life’s iridescence Vivid blissful events, oh! jubilant. Packed with achievement records, triumphant Festivities echo championship sense God-blest, March … so wondrously radiant. Smiting slothfulness, unwisely stagnant Hard work glows midst victorious fluorescence Vivid blissful events, oh! jubilant. Summer harvests, graciously abundant Reaping* from goodness-sowing’s prevalence God-blest, March …so wondrously radiant. Hailing great deeds of hard working valiant Built-up character sealed with influence… Vivid blissful events, oh! jubilant. Strengthening my faith to stay vigilant Midst womanhood’s stewardship-opulence God-blest, March** …so wondrously radiant Vivid blissful events, oh! jubilant. *2Corinthians 9:6 But this I say, He which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully. **March which is "Women’s Month" is my birth month. It's the end of Academic Year in our nation's school calendar. Likewise, it is the start of Summer in our country, with varied festivities and celebrations. July 5, 2020 Honorable Mention, "COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (6)any form any theme" Poetry Contest; Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 9/9/2020.

Details | Villanelle | Villanelle: Whose Voice So Insistent and So Early To Whine illanelle: Whose voice so insistent and so early to whine (I have just found a poem I wrote three days before I was tossed up and knocked down by a speeding car while I was mid-way on a zebra- crossing on an entry-road to a mosque. I had the right of way. The curious thing was/is that I saw no car approaching from the right. The driver - a Tunisian in a hurry to pay his respects to Allah - did not, according to him, see me either. Curious! P.S. The car hit me right where there is a 30km speed limit signpost in front of a primary school, and the driver is still driving around in a postal services delivery van. Vive la France! Viva la Francia! The emasculation through isolation and the strangulation through noise nuisance continue unabated! The Brave New World! under Socialist management!) Whose voice so insistent and so early to whine Jabbering heads rap on the panes of my ears Can howling winds meticulous eke out Nature's design Last Exit to Brooklyn not by rote every line Requiem for a Dream's stream of consciousness leers Whose voice so insistent and so early to whine Do my words madly rushing winds now entwine Whose bones rattle in the shutters of my fears Can howling winds meticulous eke out Nature's design Does the magic fridge's realism pop pills divine Make me look the svelte creature the world requires Whose voice so insistent and so early to whine The Algebra of Need's burning cold in my vein Black dealer king's piston bursting through dry tears Can howling winds meticulous eke out Nature's design The gaping hunger in my soul sickens in my brine Spoon-fed needlefuls bloat attention in dears Whose voice so insistent and so early to whine Can howling winds meticulous eke out Nature's design (c) T. Wignesan, Paris – February 6, 2015