14 August 2012

bastard villanelle

this bastard
wont let me write about wild flowers on rooftops or
coal loading staithes, absent
so I shrug 
and I sulk
waiting for the bolder to roll
it's territorial teeth
bared and bold
backing me into a corner
a cul
this bastard

clay feet 

mid air

she's in between
she's almost there

what is unbearable she must bear
the constant now
clay feet mid air

this taciturn communion air
the fallen...fell
she's almost there

this vaudeville unending prayer
his bone dry womb
clay feet mid air

straw men collide with excess flare
a shrug a wink
she's almost there

this bastard villanelle laid bare
a slip of form
clay feet mid air
she's almost


Brian Miller said...

form does the same to me as well...damn form...haha...some wicked flow in this and amazing imagery....smiles.

manicddaily said...

Ha! Very clever. Well done. k.

Audrey Howitt aka Divalounger said...

Such a clever write--form always ties me up in knots!

ayala said...

Nicely done !

hedgewitch said...

Dry and witty twisted villanelle that works very well--and what's unbearable she must bear is a most appropriate line here. Form can confine, but pressure also makes diamonds. ;_)

RMP said...

an intense struggle lies here,
but in the end she made it there.

I think bastard might be a strong word, but I too find form frustrating (and yet quite rewarding. nice piece.