Edward Hirsch's poem, "Ocean of Grass" from On Love, though not strictly a villanelle, follows that form. I think that in it the repetition of the lines works well with the subject matter.
Though some consider this a difficult form, Hirsch says that the key is to begin with a particularly strong line that bears up under the repetition. You may try his looser variation of this form, or look at the stricter versions in the poems referenced below.
VILLANELLE = A poem in a fixed form, consisting of five three-line stanzas followed by a 4 line quatrain and having only two rhymes. In the stanzas following the first, the first and third lines of the first stanza are repeated alternately as refrains. (Hirsch changes the refrains slightly.) They are the final two lines of the concluding quatrain.
check
other villanelle samples, including the use of rhyme: by E.A.
Robinson and Dylan
Thomas Another one of those strange events Just when you think it all makes
sense, occurs and throws you off the
scent, unless you don't believe that
things are meant How can it be a meaningless coincidence so why not be content
She was wild, staggering secretly
into the night She rode on silver horses, their
spirits taking flight; The bonds that bound us with love-knots
so tight I searched her soul and mine for
the source of this blight So I sent her to the hills to
be healed by the bright She picked apart the pieces of
each dark delight The fire inside that makes it
yield the barrelmaker's dance, as I
pound caramelizes the oak and burns as we force the wood into its
circle. What is it that most shapes
Beauty I'm in thrall to the clutter and
hum of sleep, I've dreamt of a bear ticking
in a box. To keep At the cliff's green edge I toppled
him into the deep And now a man in red begins
to rescue me, to leap And now a man behind a
sword rides me up a steep And now I am discovered,
my fever blouse awry, the seep I am the knotted flower my
father could not keep.
Her life was shadowed by a thousand
names. She did not feel she could live
whole, or sane, She moved through the living heartsick
and maimed, At the end of her life, holding
fast to the pain, she sought sunshine and soil,
gave praise to the rain, My memories glint with thin hope
that she gained
You placed a flower in my hair sounds of springtime filled the
air. I was a wood-nymph smiling there. We were a blindly love-struck
pair I smiled at you without a care, In retrospect, did we dare Catherine LeGault
A mother's blood runs thick and
deep He holds her leg learning to creep, Time tells her he's not hers to
keep about the day when he will seep A man stands so she takes a peep The price to pay becomes too steep.
Yellow Peril My garden's full of daffodils This sea of yellow flows and spills Up to their ears in yellow frills Not Narcissi, no! - nor Jonquils Each tidy border overspills - The twentieth vase, this armful
fills Lal Asharni
Survival The parched man drinks His tongue as dry as words, and the water is bitter and cold he lifts the pen again a sip with each sentence.
Sailing West to find the East Cortes, inspired by his priest, He takes by Divine Right, (indulgences
increased), Sutter hosts a Californian feast. Trade winds warm a global yeast, Lands and people— all are
pieced The Morning Ritual: Setting Free Freeze dried or instant slow roasted
or ground Buy it in cupsful or order a pound Beware the syllable too easily
found Forget the old rules; don't let
words be bound Bring memories of tables set seven
around Blend Starbucks with murmurs in
gerundive gowns Susan Sapnar
There Are No Accidents
leads you to the conclusion that
there are no accidents.
that you know your life's plot,
another one of those strange events
rips away your vision of the world as flat.
There are no accidents
to be, that in matters like love, we attract
to another through those strange events.
that you now sit where I have sat?
There are no accidents,
to think that this duet's
another one of those strange events?
There are no accidents.
Back to the Light
where once she danced and rainbows were her dream.
Come, my daughter, come with me back into the light.
the forest and the sea offered stones and shells that gleam
but her wild staggering secrets compelled her to the night.
slowly unraveled as she pulled at every seam
and I pleaded, daughter, please return to the light.
but she eluded me scheme by darkened scheme
as she staggered with her secrets back into the night.
truth of life flowing through there like a stream.
Go, my daughter, go and find your own spirit's light.
and scattered them like ashes beneath the moon's beam.
No longer was she staggered by secrets in the night;
welcome back, my daughter, welcome to the light.
Craft
is what makes my cooper's art.
The dance we do around the edge-
the staves even, making the seal tight.
The fire inside that makes it yield
but does not destroy the wood.
The dance we do around the edge
We sing the smoky praises to
the fire inside that makes it yield.
this life that we are building-
the fire inside that makes it yield?
the dance we do around the edge?
wrested here for a spindle's worth of blood,
the knotted flower my father couldn't keep.
him there, I carried him to the top of a wide wood,
in thrall to the clutter and hum of sleep.
plain sea where he growled and wept into the flood,
the knotted flower my father couldn't keep.
into the brambled clot, the brocade brood
of the spell, the thrall and clutter of sleep.
field, watches in the mirror for my mood,
the knotted flower my father couldn't keep.
and glint of love's bright bruise claiming me for good,
in thrall to the clutter and hum of sleep.
Phoenix
She felt them whispered in the winds of night,
their lives consumed by a maelstrom of flame.
until, somehow, she put something right.
Her life was shadowed by a thousand names.
grasping for meaning that would shed fitful light
why they met an end filled with fury and flame.
she grew a forest autumnally bright.
Though her life was still shadowed by thousands of names,
sat with head tilted back, watching birds taking flight,
as though they could rise from the maelstrom of flame.
on the ache that had dogged her in pain and in fright.
Her life had been shadowed by thousands of names,
their lives consumed in a maelstrom of flame.
Nowhere
the other night when I walked with you.
Along that path that led nowhere
You held my hand - I told you to.
When you placed the flower in my hair
Flowers are lush, but fruits are few
along the paths that lead nowhere.
With naught but pleasure in our view.
As you placed that flower in my hair
and wondered just what we would do
along that path that led nowhere.
- in that nothing-time - just we two,
To place more than a flower in my hair
along that path that led nowhere?
Mother's Blood
while giving birth a crimson stream.
She and her boy-child cling and weep.
then walks. She smiles. He is supreme.
A mother's blood runs thick and deep.
but a loan of light, a gleam.
She and her boy-child cling and weep
away. Then they both deem
a mother's blood runs thick and deep.
at him grown-up. It's so extreme
she and her boy-child cling and weep.
"Please do not leave," you hear her scream.
A mother's blood runs thick and deep.
She and her boy-child cling and weep.
Each border is a-groan with them
And so are all my windowsills.
Around, about each stalk and stem
My garden's full of daffodils
The garden's quite an anadem
And so are all my windowsills.
Or flower as dignified as them -
My garden's full of daffodils.
Blazing with ochre meristem
And so are all my windowsills.
I shall not plant this bulb again!
My garden's full of daffodils
And so are all my windowsills.
the salt water
knowing it will kill him.
his fingers barely able to hold a pen,
the parched man drinks
as the island he inhabits.
Knowing it will kill him,
and begins to write.
The parched man drinks
It is the salt water
the parched man drinks-
knowing it will kill him.
On the Belly of the Beast
Columbus sails in circles— for he is
Sailing on the belly of the beast.
Seeks believers, blood and gold while
Sailing West to find the East.
Ripping the treasure from Monteczuma’s chest—
Just above the belly of the beast.
His menu makes manifest our destiny of
Sailing West to find the East.
Then grinds-up bones to bake the bread
To fill the belly of the beast.
To fit the contours of coffers stuffed by
Sailing West to find the East—
Sailing on the belly of the beast.
Take it with sugar or sweetened with cream
Once words are spoken their wings make the sound
Wait for the genuine; search for a dream
Freeze dried or instant slow roasted or ground
Try risking the truth; abandon the scheme
Once words are spoken their wings make the sound
Create a fountain. Envision a stream
Freeze dried or instant slow roasted or ground
Sing magic sing starlight crack open the beam
Once words are spoken their wings make the sound
Brew nouns into coffee and soak up the steam
Freeze dried or instant slow roasted or ground
Once words are spoken their wings make the sound
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