Thread: 8D - VerseWorks - Do Not Go Gently into that Villanelle Board: Limbo / Ship of Fools.


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Posted by Doublethink (# 1984) on :
 
A Villanelle is a poem with a complex repeating pattern. One of the most famous examples - given in full in the link - is Dylan Thomas' Do Not Go Gentle into that Goodnight.

I have created this thread for us to try some acrobatics, have a look at the link and see what you can come up with [Smile]

They say the best of these types of poems are usually about obsessions ....

quote:

Refrain 1 (A1)
Line 2 (b)
Refrain 2 (A2)
Line 4 (a)
Line 5 (b)
Refrain 1 (A1)
Line 7 (a)
Line 8 (b)
Refrain 2 (A2)
Line 10 (a)
Line 11 (b)
Refrain 1 (A1)
Line 13 (a)
Line 14 (b)
Refrain 2 (A2)
Line 16 (a)
Line 17 (b)
Refrain 1 (A1)
Refrain 2 (A2)



[ 31. August 2014, 23:21: Message edited by: RuthW ]
 
Posted by QLib (# 43) on :
 
Are you suggesting a collective effort? Or individual pyrotechnics?
 
Posted by Doublethink (# 1984) on :
 
I thought individual, or people could post parts for assistence to complete.
 
Posted by Doublethink (# 1984) on :
 
For example, here is a highly dodgy attempt:

The Optimistic Poet

What, oh my optimistic poet, will rhyme with orange ?
Or for that matter with the colour royal purple ?
You cannot simply write an address to a man called Goringe.

Nor will your audience be content to listen to any old whinge,
Or stand for verse that proceeds at a hurple.
What, oh my optimistic poet, will rhyme with orange ?

Bodging with half rhymes maybe clever, but sounds strange.
Through dictionary and thesaurus you fiddle and furtle,
You cannot simply write an address to a man called Goringe.

Did you aim too high, is it your wings the Sun's rays singe ?
Two verses more, roll up your sleeves, and gird up your kurtle.
What, oh my optimistic poet, will rhyme with orange ?

You battle through the thickets of linguistic sporange,
You've almost overcome the last hurdle.
You cannot simply write an address to a man called Goringe.

Suddenly discovering an East End muse called Ange
Is deeply contrived, and not remotely commercial.
What, oh my optimistic poet, will rhyme with orange ?
You cannot simply write an address to a man called Goringe.

[ 31. July 2014, 21:17: Message edited by: Doublethink ]
 
Posted by QLib (# 43) on :
 
[Big Grin]
 
Posted by Doublethink (# 1984) on :
 
Your turn ....
 
Posted by agingjb (# 16555) on :
 
Shanty

Chanting in error mystifies the quest
Ices and mirth the floating sea clouds yield
The moon is also silent in the nest

Round the white seas the wind pursues the test
Commands are altered and the songs are sealed
Chanting in error mystifies the quest

Strange words surround the geometric west
Lines direct poets to the dim field
The moon is also silent in the nest

High over Dorset buzzards soar and rest
Later the circling knife its castle pealed
Chanting in error mystifies the quest

The ale confounds the magic and the jest
Lights are extinguished by a feathered shield
The moon is also silent in the nest

Sleep is the outcome - play the single quest
And comfort puzzles when the wound is healed
Chanting in error mystifies the quest
The moon is also silent in the nest.


Tosh, of course. Written before the "new age" was so called - and mainly as a exercise in the villanelle. But even so I wonder if the last line could be placed in the right poem - I've tried it the ballade form (of which more, perhaps, later).
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
That last line might work in the rondeau? It has 10 syllables and a decent final word to give reasonable rhymes (unlike foolish).
 
Posted by Doublethink (# 1984) on :
 
That seems like a challenge ....
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
I tried writing a villanelle once and it was a real struggle to make it work. The repeating lines need to tie in with what else you've got.

If I get time it might be an interesting challenge to try again.
 
Posted by Trudy Scrumptious (# 5647) on :
 
I love villanelles ... might have to give this one a shot.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
I will attempt to write a villanelle
Though it's a well-known tough and wily form
And then I'll try the dread result to sell.

I tell you, writing villanelles is hell
For one to whom the sonnet form is norm.
I will attempt to write a villanelle.

I can't pretend that this is going well.
Can poetic flower burst from this corm?
And should I try the dread result to sell?

I want my words to chime just like a bell
Instead they wriggle like a crippled worm.
I will attempt to write a villanelle.

The agony this causes none can tell,
Yet fighting stoutly through the verbal storm
I'll surely try the villanelle to sell.

You will have gathered this my purpose fell
In wrestling with this pestilential form:
I will attempt to write a villanelle.
And then I'll try the dread result to sell.
 
Posted by Doublethink (# 1984) on :
 
Woooohoooo !
 
Posted by QLib (# 43) on :
 
Take time to marvel at blue sky and sea;
The guide books proffer options that beguile -
There's just no room for writing poetry.

I'll browse through all the options, sipping tea.
This afternoon I'll walk the cliff-top mile:
Take time to marvel at blue sky and sea.

Silent, now, the giddy town behind me;
As I drink in the vista from this stile.
There's just no room for writing poetry.

The lark-song overhead fills me with glee;
Meandering, mazed and map-less in the meanwhile,
Take time to marvel at blue sky and sea.

Returned, I doze beneath a shady tree.
My notebooks languish in tumbled pile:
There's just no room for writing poetry.

I've ditched the email and the phone (hands-free).
Relaxed, at peace, I sip white wine, and smile,
Take time to marvel at blue sky and sea:
There's still no room for writing poetry.
 
Posted by Doublethink (# 1984) on :
 
[Yipee]

Glad it's not just me !
 
Posted by Yorick (# 12169) on :
 
Brava, QLib!
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
This one is not strict but as good as I can say it.

All things shall be well again

As on the path of bleakness you endure
And struggle with your health and other things
And people seem so happy and secure
Yet greyness clings

All things shall be well

When something happens someday without warning
You find yourself again the odd one out.
With no one on the team you want to play for
And silence seems to shout
Give up

Still, all things can be well again

There may be something just around the corner
Or not, the case may never be resolved
But always there’s an unseen guide at work
Whose arms enfold
Who will not let the banks o’erflow the river
Or tea spill from the cup
To him you hold

And all things must be well.
 
Posted by Starbug (# 15917) on :
 
Thank you. I needed that.
 
Posted by QLib (# 43) on :
 
Jamat - that was lovely and helps to make it clear that part of the point of form is made when we break away from it.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
On a more topical (hereabouts) note -

Everyone is selling laughter:
The frequent flyer is the banknote.
But it still rains the morning after.

'This is one to shake the rafter'
(Poster striped with blazoned quote).
Everyone is selling laughter

'You like Python? This is dafter!
You'll come out chanting lines by rote!'
But it still rains the morning after.

At the Fair where every crafter
Touts woolly sheep, ceramic boat
Everyone is selling laughter

In the bar 'I'm talking BAFTA!'
Producers with ideas to float
But it still rains the morning after

Venue? Hell! - but fame hereafter
So schmooze that judge and get his vote.
Everyone is selling laughter -
But it still rains the morning after.
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
If the slipper still fits why not wear it?
Though its old and stinking a bit
With the sweat of year or two’s toe jam
which isn’t affecting the foot

There is comfort and padding and lining
Though perhaps that is coming apart
The age of the slipper is showing
But no one can see in the dark

If the slipper still fits why not wear it?
To buy a new pair isn’t wise
If the present one still keeps the cold out
And it’s still fleecy on the inside

Though maybe it’s not quite so shapely
A little distorted and worn
If the slipper still fits why not wear it?
For two is much better than one.
 
Posted by Doublethink (# 1984) on :
 
That is an interesting piece, but you don't seem to be going for a villanelle ?

Perhaps you could start a new thread for uniquely structured verse.

Doublethink
Verseworks Host
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
Sorry will not post any more distractions.
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
Tosh.

The clock is ticking on that,
On whether the day will be fine,
And someone is feeding your cat;

A plait or a bun or a hat,
A look that is all but sublime,
The clock is ticking on that;

If your mood is quite manic or flat,
Or you're feeling just simply divine,
And someone is feeding your cat;

Some behave like a weasel or rat,
They simply step over the line,
The clock is ticking on that;

And thinking is not where it's at,
For everyone's seeking a sign,
And is someone feeding your cat?

When stuff you relied on goes splat,
You think you had better resign,
The clock is ticking on that,
And someone is feeding your cat.
 
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on :
 
oooh, like that one.
 
Posted by RuthW (# 13) on :
 
Yes, that's pretty cool! I like the tetrameter with that topic.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Hip hop, or even, hop hip
I've just had a life changing op
And soon I will go at a clip.

Arthritis is like one long blip
When the limp becomes closer to hop.
Hip hop, or even, hop hip.

"Be careful that you do not slip
Lest a joint dislocated you cop,
And you'll never go at a clip."

My friends are quite fond of a quip
But the most fav'rite one that they drop,
Hip hop, or even, hop hip.

I can't reach my toenails to clip
Or walk to the handiest shop,
But soon I will go at a clip.

Be careful on plane and on ship-
No trying from great heights to drop.
I've been given a very hip hip
And soon I will go at a clip.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
We need something with a shorter line. Here's my attempt:

At the Dance

He inferred
she would try;
she demurred.

He was stirred,
which was why
he inferred.

"How absurd!"
With a sigh,
she demurred.

Vision blurred,
"She's just shy,"
He inferred.

From her word,
from her eye,
he inferred
she demurred.
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
Cool variation MT!
 


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