His cobalt blue sigh bid me not cry
But who will feed his dog and trees
Was what I thought when old men die.
He chose the jungle to father's sky
Monkeys, Nazis, Jaguars & no breeze
His cobalt blue sigh bid me not cry.
All hunters hunt as all pilots fly
May God take you home with all ease
Was what I thought when old men die.
One plane crashed into a yellow dye
Amazon Don Carlos is Machete & teas
His cobalt blue sigh bid me not cry.
Lavender pillows and then sleep try
Condors and thunderbird jet streams
Was what I thought when old men die.
Aquarius hands hanging garden's high
Whenst stars blaze by as you please
His cobalt blue sigh bid me not cry
Was what I thought when old men die.
Author notes
Written January 19th, 2004
In a list
What did you think
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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A perfect villanelle and rather deep too! Thanks for entering!
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Horus, this is an excellent poem reflecting myriad random thoughts we have when confronted with someone dying before our eyes. Surely this is worth the gold. Good luck in the contest. Love and hugs, BonnieQ
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had never heard of a villanelle until now...a very interesting style. obviously, i cannot criticize critically, as do not know the 'rules' of this format...but i do know what resonates with me...and this one did. think i may just have to sign up for some of the classes offered...expand my horizons. maybe even try a villanelle some day!
thanks for this introduction...and for this meaningful piece.
~liz -
Superb
Dude, this rocks.
The imagery is superb in this villanelle (in particular the second verse) and ... well, hell, I can't add anything by babbling.
Nice write. -
This is perfect in form and rhyme. I love to read th Old World style poetry bu,t I have a hard time sitting down to write in this form because my thoughts come so quickly. You have inspired me to try my hand at it, and I hope you don't mind my using this as a well written example as to how to write a villanelle. The imagery is very good and the flow is excellent. Thank you for sharing. Great job!
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great poem
when old men die
they cry
all their functions come out
and they rot
that what happened to my grandpa when he died right before my eyes
that was years ago
after that i thought that i wanted to be a mortician
until i realized that if i did do that with my life that i might become a necrophiliac and lets just say that isnt that arousing anyway good luck may the best man win
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good
It is a pleasure to see a villanelle written correctly without the most common of rhymes.
Really enjoyed your refrains:
His cobalt blue sigh bid me not cry
Was what I thought when old men die.
thanks,
John -
3/4 brickettes
mother-trucking delightful... i'd make an in-depth rant on how i perceived things and how good this is but you're too good to acknowledge admiring eyes... -
One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Thanks for helping there. Damn. Love hearing them and I'm trying to write one at least every 1-2 days. In this I have both the poem and somehow the picture checked off as well. sigh
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