The Reluctant Woodsman (villanelle attempt)
Posted: Tue Sep 19, 2006 12:14 am
Hi all, it's been a while since I've posted, thought I've post an attempt at a "structured poem" the meter is out, but one step at a time!
To search for a house, when all you’ve known is home.
To seek less space with wider expanse, takes diligence.
To build your castle beneath the stars, adept, alone.
To swap brick for twig, tile for leaf, a door for none.
To seek moonlight as a source, requires experience.
To search for a house, when all you’ve known is home.
To leave a room, a street, a town, to just wander – around.
To deconstruct such building blocks, requests prevalence
To build your castle beneath the stars, adept, alone.
To sit beyond comfort, to argue with the darkness found
To caress dead boughs, whilst rotten footsteps suggest new violence,
To search for a house, when all you’ve known is home.
To be as one with moonlight gaps, and crawling ground
To live at night, without a sound, in pure ironic silence.
To build your castle beneath the stars, adept, alone.
To live as a creature of the earth, filthy fingernails, hair
Alive, shocked toward the stars, to breath real air.
To search for a house, when all you’ve known is home.
To build your castle beneath the stars, adept, alone.
To search for a house, when all you’ve known is home.
To seek less space with wider expanse, takes diligence.
To build your castle beneath the stars, adept, alone.
To swap brick for twig, tile for leaf, a door for none.
To seek moonlight as a source, requires experience.
To search for a house, when all you’ve known is home.
To leave a room, a street, a town, to just wander – around.
To deconstruct such building blocks, requests prevalence
To build your castle beneath the stars, adept, alone.
To sit beyond comfort, to argue with the darkness found
To caress dead boughs, whilst rotten footsteps suggest new violence,
To search for a house, when all you’ve known is home.
To be as one with moonlight gaps, and crawling ground
To live at night, without a sound, in pure ironic silence.
To build your castle beneath the stars, adept, alone.
To live as a creature of the earth, filthy fingernails, hair
Alive, shocked toward the stars, to breath real air.
To search for a house, when all you’ve known is home.
To build your castle beneath the stars, adept, alone.