Solar Flare

Fists pound the empty air;
Defeat entwines with chords that bind.
Silent hours of repair

Do not exist where
Exasperation and distress find
Fists. Pound the empty air!

Anger licks a solar flare.
Sparks erupt when spirits declined
Silent hours of repair.

Petulance ebbs to despair,
And upon the weight in one’s mind
Fists pound. The empty air

Falls heavy. Hearts are aware
As souls are chastened and aligned.
Silent hours of repair

Ameliorate through ardent prayer.
Chasms bridged; no more do blind
Fists pound; the empty air
Silent. Hours of repair.

-J.H. Schmidt

(This poem is a form called a villanelle)


Filed under Poetry, Writing

3 responses to “Solar Flare

  1. I love villanelles. Sylvia Plath wrote some good ones. This one is amazing.

  2. Thanks Karen, I would love to read some of her villanelles if you have any suggestions. 🙂 Should I seperate the poem into stanzas, or leave it as is? I have seen villanelles both ways and was unsure of what to do, I would appreciate your opinion. 🙂

  3. You can find a good collection of villanelles here.

    All those ones that I’ve looked at seem to be separated into stanzas. (It is a little easier to understand the form that way.)

    There are four villanelles by S.P. listed on that site. The main one I was thinking of was “To Eva Descending the Stair”. Of course probably the best villanelle of all time (IMHO) is Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night”.

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