Dust and death are on her scorched wings
The sightless witch who haunts the barren skies
We crumble of the fatal curse she sings
The world no longer cares for living things
Just the harlot with abyssmal eyes
Dust and death are on her scorched wings
The living hide but she is always listening
To satiate her lust to terrorize
We crumble of the fatal curse she sings
The will of men bends to the darkening
To pledge to her their humble little lives
Dust and death are on her scorched wings
When every funeral bell has ceased to ring
She walks the Earth, her voice begins to rise
We crumble of the fatal curse she sings
The last of men await the wrath she brings
Our courage wanes under her stinging eyes
Dust and death are on her scorched wings
We crumble of the fatal curse she sings
Author notes
Apparently I was very tired and quite out of my mind when I wrote this poem, and I realize now that the second lines in stanzas 4 and 5 are out of rhyme with the others. They have been corrected but the corrections are mere substitutes for the original meaning and will be revised at a later date. For more information on villanelles please consult this article.
allpoetry.com/Column/784856
Edit: The site does not recognize the accented e character so be informed that the second syllable of "scorched" is accented, "scorch-ed."
Written March 19th, 2006
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I am not much of a critic but i will say that i happen to love your imagination and words that you so written here i am not one on stanzs but i do believe in write what comes to ones self. i loved this if there is any flaws i wouldnt see them when i like
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