He who perseveres wins? ~The Poet’s Poet~

He had his own style and felt at home in his own eccentric world

Once he sat to write each day he felt quite content

Even though he never knew just what might unfold

 

Whatever was going on inside his head the story must be told

Of course it had to be constructive in it very content

He had his own style and felt at home in his own eccentric world

 

He had at all times to feel free to write never be corralled

Never would he seek assurance or ever ask consent

Even though he never knew just what might unfold

 

A consolation you might say for he could be brash and bold

Be vitriolic if need be, he would find it difficult to relent

He had his own style and felt at home in his own eccentric world

 

His vision for his Villanelle – words had to be controlled

Treat them as you would an infant child which was from heaven sent

Even though he never knew just what might unfold

 

So this Villanelle now near its end soon to be unfurled

He is proud of his contribution to the writerly world that he did not relent

He had his own style and felt at home in his own eccentric world

Even though he never knew just what might unfold.

© Chris Black. November 2018

#Villanelle #Poetry #amwriting

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Do not over complicate.

He asks himself what next
As he sits to write his Villanelle
Think for now of nothing outside this text

It is important to keep everything in context
Useing his writing impliment to cast a spell
He asks himself what next

Do not over complicate, do not make it too complex
This in turn should leave it easy the Villanelle to re-tell
Think for now of nothing outside this text

Read, see how an other writer injects
Excitement into each line they write, do they dwell?
He asks himself what next

Is it really all about optics
All about casting a spell?
Think for now of nothing outside this text

What if all who read rejects
Never ever contemplate undersell
He asks himself what next
Think for now of nothing outside this text.
(c) Chris Black. Februrary 2018.

Villanelle – A wordy piece.

Words can stab, hurt, cut, bruise
Equally words can soothe
Writing obsenities, really is there an excuse?

Words do not have a choice for such misuse
They never know if or when they are to be used like a sychte
Words can stab, hurt, cut, bruise

To bow in the face of this I refuse
I, the poet am here to openly exude
Writing obsenities, really is there an excuse?

How am I supposed this dilemma to diffuse
When in this villanelle I must include
Words that can stab, hurt, cut, bruise

Yes words were born to confuse
Before any exclusion, we should appreciate the smoothe
Writing obseities, really is there an excuse?

Sixteen lines in, it is beginning to confuse
Time at this point for the poet to denote as RUDE
Words which can stab, hurt, hurt, bruise
Writing obscenities, really is there an excuse?
(c) Chris Black. February 2018.

‘A Still’

Sitting, pondering, with some time to kill

That ‘poets’ voice whispered

Why not write a Villanelle

 

If you feel at all perturbed, remember do nothing against your will

The chance of failing, would hopefully be slim

Sitting, pondering, with some time to kill

 

Taking his seat reached for his trusty quill

Think positive, don’t think outlook grim

Why not write a Villanelle

 

About him now, calmness – that was until

The idea for his subject came upon him in a whim

Sitting, pondering, with some time to kill

 

He considered, paint a word picture – title this piece ‘A Still’

In the end it may not be the finished article, call it a ‘prelim’

Why not, write a Villanelle

 

Making good use of all the time God made he soon realised he would fulfil

Within the comfort of his mind these lines he could grow and trim

Sitting, pondering, with some time to kill

Why not, write a Villanelle.

(c) Chris Black 2017.