By The Death
The dusty break of dawn inclines sun rays
toward each lifeless nook in this dull house
where only silence drifts across the air
to mock at dreams I lost along the drag
of life – too young to apprehend its tricks.
The freshness of this light surrounds my soul
and pulls it within whirlpool of bleak thoughts,
inside which stillness suffocates the sense
to feel what golden glow around may bring;
for changing shadows’ play reminds me of
the time I spent in reveling across a world
not fated to explore the land of truth.
It's odd how hopes so false leave fast, just as
they come – like waves that fondle lonely shore
for seconds...then abandon it to grieve
for loss of touch not meant to favor some
relief but constant pain that never ends…
by stealing visions drawn across grey sand.
When nothing’s left, regrets resound a tune;
unheard before, it haunts my sullen heart
until the day surrenders flames against
familiar darkness, calling me to fall
along the lap of night whose lullaby
will steal all obscure views, for when I sleep,
I slip into a realm of blankness dreamed...
By The Death
"Come Mourning Night"
Come mourning night, no star will grace the sky,
and moon will drape himself in cloak of black.
Devoid of light, my dreams are bound to die.
The requiem of darkness makes me sigh –
my life’s like smoke, where hopes begin to slack.
Come mourning night...no star will grace the sky.
In sorrow, thoughts turn vague, and tend to fly
away with shadows sly...thus fall on track
devoid of light – my dreams are bound to die.
The time is still, its sound appears to lie
in wait – this sudden silence hard to hack.
Come mourning night, no star will grace the sky.
My soul is lost somewhere, I can't deny –
the will to search its spark is what I lack.
Devoid of light...my dreams are bound to die.
With nothing left, I cease – the end draws nigh;
null eyes now sleep, too scared of looking back.
Come mourning night, no star will grace the sky.
Devoid of light, my dreams are bound to die.
| Author Notes |
The Villanelle is a 19-line fixed form poem with repeating lines, composed in five tercets with a closing quatrain that ends in a rhyming couplet. The villanelle is categorized as a modern classic form. It enjoyed a resurgence in the 20th century thanks to Oscar Wilde, Edwin Arlington Robinson, W.H. Auden, Sylvia Plath, Elizabeth Bishop, Theodore Roethke, Seamus Heaney, and others.
The rhyme scheme is: A1bA2; abA1; abA2; abA1; abA2; abA1A2, where A1 is the first line of the first stanza and A2 is the third line of the first stanza. Structure: 19 lines - five tercets and a closing quatrain; 6 to 11 syllables per line Measure/Beat: Iambic trimeter, tetrameter, or pentameter Common Themes: Love, loss, and challenge RE-kvi-EM: 3 syllables |
By The Death
By The Death
| Author Notes |
Tanka is a Japanese form of poetry, written over five lines using 31 syllables OR LESS, in short/long/short/long/long format. I haven't used the usual 5/7/5/7/7 format here.
|
By The Death
Sometimes, in light of day, I feel
an urge to dig my hidden fears
from graves inside my barren heart,
now left too cold for hopes to thrive.
The sound of time, I can't resist...
sometimes. In light of day, I feel
like screaming at my shadows that
are meant to trace my silent breaths.
As sunshine casts a lucid world,
my eyes are lost in dreaming dark;
sometimes, in light of day. I feel
like shutting them, so as to sleep.
The day's a drag, night seems a null;
across its stretch, I lie and lie
to make my numbing self believe--
sometimes, in light of day...I feel.
| Author Notes | A Quatern is a sixteen line French form composed of four quatrains. It has a refrain that is in a different place in each quatrain. The first line of stanza one is the second line of stanza two, third line of stanza three, and fourth line of stanza four. A quatern has eight syllables per line. It does not have to be iambic or follow a set rhyme scheme. |
By The Death
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