Tag Archives: villanelle

National Month of Poetry Day 18

Today is National Poem-in-your-pocket Day! You can read about it at Stephanie’s blog or go to poets.org.  Just like I have a hard time choosing favorite books, I have a hard time choosing favorite poems, but I did decide to share some of my own.

These first two poems are more serious (not my kid or silly poems, in other words).
The first poem was the first Villanelle I ever wrote – a challenging form and quite fun. I like playing around with the repetition and varying the punctuation to bring different meaning and lessen the constant repetitive feel. I shared it back in 2006, but thought it’d be fun to do so again.

Solar Flare

by Julia Wagner

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.

Next is a free-verse – not sure if I used that term correctly, but no specific rhythm or rhyme pattern that I wrote years ago. I’d forgotten about it until I started scouring my poems trying to decide what should go in my pocket today.

Passion

by Julia Wagner

How does one describe
emotions of the heart?
Words, insipid, fail to capture
the ardor with which I love.

Nor can it be painted with
the finest brush in hand.
Colors dull with time,
so opposite my passion.

What resemblance to
nature could I possibly compose?
The most majestic mountain or
delicate rose sallow in comparison.

As time erodes the most formidable citadel,
devotion, secured in the
fortress of my heart,
will crescendo through eternity.

And now, because I especially love kids’/light hearted silly poems, I have to include a couple:

A Wee Little Fella

by Julia Wagner

If I were a wee little fella,
I’d live in a red-capped
mushroom house;
I’d harness the snails and go
for a ride,
tipping my cap to the white-
knight mouse.

I’d drink the dew from blue-
bell cups and dine on daisy plates,
And glide across the ice puddles
on a pair of grapevine skates.

Excuses

by Julia Wagner

I cannot write a poem today
I promised I’d help Fannie Mae
I’m her back up wedding singer
You see she sprained her pinky finger
Then I need to dye my hair
and find pink polk-a-dot underwear.
I need to practice my ninja skills
And pay grandpa Joe’s ballroom bills.
I have an appointment at ten
to decide ownership of a pygmie hen.
I need to pickle some pigs feet
and tame a wild parakeet.
I promised old man farmer Zirkle
I’d investigate his crop circle.
I also need to catch a tree frog
I spotted hopping through a bog.
And so you see, I’m sad to say,
I just can’t write a poem today.

Thanks for reading and poke a poem in your pocket to share today!!

*PLEASE REMEMBER ~ any poetry found on this blog, written by me, is my personal property and may not be used without my permission, other than sharing it as an example in a lesson or to read it to someone.

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Filed under Children, Humor, Poetry

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)

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Filed under Poetry, Writing