First, thanks to Andy from me too, for doing such a great job with this blog. And I like the frills - they suit us.
I enjoyed Brett's post, so it's got me to wheel out my one and only villanelle. Here goes...
What Lives On
So little that we know is still the same,
But one faint whisper breathes from time remote:
While all decays, what lives on is a name.
Glass cities rise where once corn sellers came;
Below, the plastic card usurps the groat;
So little that we know is still the same.
What ‘Cornhill’, ‘Poultry’, ‘Eastcheap’ still proclaim,
Dead voices spoke and hands, long buried, wrote;
While all decays, what lives on is a name.
Years past, with stick and dog he trod the lane,
Now COLONEL’S WALK - bold letters that denote
The little that we know is still the same.
For me, a lifetime on, two words remain
A pristine hanger for a tattered coat;
While all decays, what lives on is a name.
You may excel, achieve unthought of fame,
Cheat destiny, and seize it by the throat -
What little do I know? - but all the same,
It won’t be you that lives on, but your name.
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ReplyDeleteYou do choose some interesting subjects for your poems and this is very original. A "transience of life" poem that doesn't get too maudlin. "a pristine hanger for a tattered coat" is a great line. The shift from the street names to the people's names is very effective and thoughtful. The last two lines tweak the villanelle form a bit but I think that works.
ReplyDeleteThis is such a good villanelle, Chris, and they are so hard to do. I've only ever attempted one and it was disastrous. What I especially like (pace, Sean)is the way you manage to achieve a wistfulness without it ever becoming maudlin or self-indulgent. I found myself making a deep sigh after the first and every subsequent reading. Thanks for showing it to us.
ReplyDeleteChris, if I had a hat I would take it off - with the above, an excellent villanelle. I like the subtle changes to the refrains they keep such a strict form interesting.
ReplyDeleteAny chance of posting your, what was it, Ode to a Wheelie Bin?
Cheers
Brett
Thank you to everyone who's commented. I've long been intrigued by the subject, and thought of using this form to write about it, but wasn't sure how well I'd handled it. So thank you for the encouragement.
ReplyDeleteBrett, here's the one you were referring to:
Ode to a Dustbin
You’re the keeper of things I’d prefer were forgotten,
The reason my ego’s not over-inflated.
Those embarrassing items; that fruit that went rotten;
Last Wednesday’s paella that everyone hated.
I pull off your top, making clear my intention -
This message of love is a Valentine dart.
You know all the secrets I hardly dare mention;
I’ll aim straight for your dark polypropylene heart.
Now I gaze at your depths like an underfed vagrant;
You’ll accept my poor scribblings, if no one else will.
You’re receptive, you’re warm, you’re unfailingly fragrant -
Here, take my small offering, please share in the thrill;
Embrace the bared soul of your wholehearted lover!
There. My burden’s set free. I shall put back your cover.