Whoops, sorry this is late--I wrote it last night, but forgot to post it before I headed out this morning.
Is everyone ready to tackle a trickier form of poetry? This week’s form is called the villanelle. It’s got some similarities to the triolet that we learned two weeks ago: there are only two rhyming sounds, and certain lines are repeated in a specific pattern.
Here are the characteristics of the villanelle:
1. It has 19 lines: 5 stanzas with 3 lines each, and a quatrain at the end.
2. It is a rhyming poem with an (aba) rhyme scheme (the final quatrain is (abaa)
3. It has a specific and consistent meter. The poet may pick any meter that works, but must strictly maintain it throughout the poem.
4. Lines 1 and 3 are called the refrain¸ and they are repeated in several places throughout the poem.
Confused? Well, I’ll try to sort it out for you, first by providing a line-by-line layout, and then by giving you a few examples.
1. Refrain, your first (a) rhyme
2. a (b) rhyme
3. Refrain, your second (a) rhyme
4. a line with an (a) rhyme
5. a line with a (b) rhyme
6. repeat of line 1
7. a line with an (a) rhyme
8. a line with a (b) rhyme
9. repeat of line 3
10. a line with an (a) rhyme
11. a line with a (b) rhyme
12. repeat of line 1
13. a line with an (a) rhyme
14. a line with a (b) rhyme
15. repeat of line 3
16. a line with an (a) rhyme
17. a line with a (b) rhyme
18. repeat of line 1
19. repeat of line 3
Probably the best-known example of a villanelle is Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night,” a poem he wrote about his dying father:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learned, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And of course, I had to attempt one for myself. This one’s not about my cat or my granddaughter, surprisingly enough! It’s very simplistic, for several reasons: I wrote it in a hurry, I’m not a deep poet, and I wanted you all to see that it’s not as hard as it looks.
I’ve given up on why
All answers lie with you
I’ll wonder ‘til I die
No matter how I try
To think the whole thing through
I’ve given up on why
You’re silent—no reply
My pleadings I renew
I’ll wonder ‘til I die
So what if I should cry?
My tears to nowhere flew
I’ve given up on why
Your grace is my supply
And hurt becomes untrue
I’ll wonder ‘til I die
So—will you sanctify?
Wilt fill with love anew?
I’ve given up on why
I’ll wonder ‘til I die
There—it shouldn’t be hard at all for you to do better than that!
By the way, there’s a free verse villanelle in Master’s this week—once hinting starts, I’ll tell you whose it is (it’s not mine—way too good to be mine!)
If the individual lines are long enough, a villanelle could conceivably be long enough as a Writing Challenge entry. Dylan Thomas’s poem above is 168 words.
I found that the key was picking words for the end rhymes that have LOTS of rhymes each. It’s wonderful to use complex and interesting rhymes for some types of poetry, but when you have to come up with half a dozen or more rhymes for the same word in one poem, you’ll want to avoid picking a word like bluster to start off with. Once you’ve used muster and fluster, you’ll find yourself in a pickle.
Homework: You guessed it—write a villanelle.
And please—let us know what your writing process was, and how you like this form, and anything else you can think of to say about villanelles. Do you think they’re especially suited for serious poetry, or can you see doing a lighthearted verse in this format?
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