I have seen the face within your face
Humbled ,showing pain which  rent my heart
I have  felt the ache of your disgrace

You felt  worthless like a worm misplaced
Your heart was struck too  keenly by sharp darts
I  have seen  lthe face within your face

A child  whom no one  even once embraced
Your reticence and silence played its part
I have   shared the ache of your disgrace

A  bullied child who came last in the race
I  condemn men  blind , who had no heart
I have seen the  pain   hid deep inside your face

Then your  mask slid into  its  old place
You  caught the train  and re-lived this same hurt
I have   shared the ache of your disgrace

I hate the  people proud  but, to me ,base.
Who made your  soul and all your being smart
I have seen the face within your face
I have  known the ache of your disgrace

We ‘d  hoped to see the rose gardens in June
But on the 1st he died and travelled on
We  both enjoyed   the roses in  full  bloom

We used the dark to see the stars and moon
But by the 1st  I found that he was gone
We hoped to see the rose gardens in June

As  I tell,  dark death arrived  too soon
And  took away  the  life of   a  dear man
We  wished to see the  flowers when in full bloom

As he  lay,I sang  to him the psalms
I  knew before the doctor’s he was going.
We meant to see the rose gardens in June

Then  there with me he  re-encountered calm
I had not gone there with a plan
We  longed to see the  flowers  enchanting blooms

May was cold and bitter with alarm
That was when he fell , yet rose again
We  hoped to see the rose gardens in June
We    loved the  scent of roses in their time

I’ve lost the cordless handset  and my specs.
I   put them down   right when the doorbell rang
I  can’t phone out nor read a message  texted

To lose more than a partner makes me vexed
Already in my heart I feel a pang
I’ve lost the cordless handset  and my specs.

I wonder what possession I’ll lose next
The knell is waiting anxious to be rung
I can’t moan nor read a message  texted

I’ll have to go next door on some pretext
But must not keep them talking for too long
I’ve lost the cordless handset  and my specs.

I feel if I continue I’ll be wrecked
But all us humans need to use our tongue
I  can’t weep nor read a message  texted

I must not rumimate nor thoughts dissect
I ‘ve been careless but I ‘ve done no wrong
I’ve lost the cordless handset  and my specs.
I  can’t speak nor read a message  texted

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/resources/learning/glossary-terms/detail/foot

 

Poetic form, oh architecture  sweet,
Sonnet,terza  rima,villanelle;
Let me   sense your truth in  sentence  neat

Emotions and desires  with syntax meet;
The sentences,   like waves, each softly swells.
Poetic form, oh architecture  sweet.

Like Shetland lace, the  patterned forms repeat
Oh,draping shawl, be not obsessive hell.
Let me   sense your truth in  sentence  neat

Our language starts as  babbles and small  greets;
From interactions, we  learn words  as well.
Poetic form, oh architecture  sweet.

Poems and music , each  has  rhythmic beat.
Each may give us peace or vital thrill
Let me   sense your truth in  sentence  neat

Underneath the oak trees take your seat.
Read aloud  or silent,as you will.
Poetic form, oh architecture  sweet;
Let me   sense your truth in  sentence  neat

 

 

Rich deep silence brings pleasures unique
From  peaceful green of  trees where small  birds  hide.
The work within the mind  may be complete

About our souls, we each must be discreet
Even to those  who’re  living by our sides
Rich deep silence brings pleasures unique

Happy to do nothing,nothing seek
Innocent as  young,beloved bride
The work within the mind  may be complete

Ignorant of Latin,Hebrew,Greek,
The heart needs no such learning to decide
Rich deep silence brings pleasures unique

I listen to the  world around me speak
Underneath the turmoil,love’s alive
The work within the mind  may be complete

In our society,  sensitive means freak.
Yet, by our intuitions, we may guide
Rich deep silence brings pleasures unique
The work within the mind  may be complete

When shadows fall  and night  begins again
When  artificial light is all I have
I feel the grief of loss  in  biting pain

And by the evening ,energy is drained.
We list the memories of those we’ve loved
When shadows fall  and night  begins again

 

So like the moon ,my feelings wax and wane
And sunlight does not fall from far above
I feel the grief of loss  in    biting  pains

When no words seem appropriate to explain
The river rushes fast, but I’ve no  boat
When shadows fall  and night  begins again

At least I do not look for who to blame
But wish to live surrounded by a moat
I feel the grief of loss in   biting  pains

A premonition warned me of what came
And down I sank forgetting how to float
When shadows fall  and night  begins again
I feel the grief of loss  in  biting pain

 

The point of living is to feel alive
Not caged  by  too high walls or steely fence
We want to love,be taken by surprise.

Our  wounded mangled self we can’t deride,
Recalling  fights and  struggles lived  through once.
The point of living is to feel alive.

We dither to and fro in puzzled ways
We feel the anguish, still and quite intent.
We want to love,be taken by surprise.

The self’s spontaneous, not a thing contrived;
Formed with love and  hate,with all intense.
The rage of living is to be alive.

When washed away by feelings glad,immense
That cross our borders without our lament
The  hope,the need of living is  our life
We want to  give and take  yet fear surprise

What shall I do ,the  widow asked her friend.
I feel this knife inside my heart again
What  can I do to make my sorrow end
What can I do to  stop the bloody   pain?

Do nothing, the  sweet friend  gently replied
Your task is  to  accept   your own despair
The  wisdom in your mind will work,she sighed.
Your body hurts and  for such  pain we  care.

Sit here and  count the daisies i n the lawn
No need to talk or  even think  or will.
As in this peaceful sitting for  a day
Your mind will    rest and  hope  and trust may call.

Receptive to the shivering, daisied  fields,
The heart releases; to  its  grace  we yield

I knew you well  for  just the  everyday
The little happenings which we have shared
But in your  grief, I  don’t know what to say.

How many losses hit you on  your way?
I know you well enough to wish to care
I knew you well enough for  every day

Is sorrow  what survivors have to pay?
I’m afraid  to feel  my dark emotions  bared.
So in your  grief, I   fear what I might say.

On your hand,my hand I gently lay
I lived near you when all was kind and fair
I knew you well enough for  every day.

I ‘ll comfort you  perhaps just for one day
We’ll live this darkness hour by   pained hour
Oh,in your  grief, I  don’t know what to say.

We’ll take a walk ,and movement shall be prayer.
We’ll smell the  damp green lawns and   lavenders
I knew you well  for  just the  everyday
But  when you grieved, I   knew not what to say

The universe may be the heart of God
And this  natural world  is  where he left his soul
Where good and evil fight and love is bred

 
By our perceptions we are slowly led
To  see   through light and so become more whole
The universe may be the heart of God

And yet some say he rules us with his rod
When  others in his love he does enfold
While good and evil fight and love is bred

Sometimes  alas  we feel that  God has fled
And shrink  our hearts   as   we feel  deathly cold
The universe may be the heart of God

He shows himself in signs and what he said
As in the sky his  sonorous thunder rolls
Yet good and evil fight and love is bred

To the mountain, were not the prophets led?
Till in their minds the  words  made up a thread
The universe may be the heart of God
Where good and evil fight and love is bred

I wonder if it’s  best to write in form
When I feel this panic and  bleak fear.
Breathing will be easier  when I’m calm

Will these patterns act like a soft balm
When I’m confused and have no real ideas?
I wonder if it’s  best to write in form

Shall I on  my  ego lay the   blame?
Or  my inner critic ever near
Breathing will be easier  when I’m calm

I thought  my  face looked very strained and plain
Maybe I  had drunk too much black beer
I wonder if it’s  best to write in form

 

Is this life  just God’s intriguing  game?
Am I sure if you are really here?
Breathing will be easier  when I’m calm

No need to panic when alarmed.
No need for the secondary fear
I wonder if it’s  best to write in form?
Breathing will be easier  when I’m calm

The earth has its own gravity and grace
Perception will develop as we grow
Maintain the sacredness of this dear space

When we live we need to find our place
The process may be long and very slow
The earth has its own gravity and grace

The good and bad both need to be embraced
Grace comes easiest to those who’re low.
Maintain the sacredness of this dear space

Good and bad make patterns as in lace
And through the gaps, the living waters flow
The earth has its own gravity and grace

Life must grow at its own steady pace
By our intuition ,we will know
Maintain the sacredness of this dear space

Of the fruits of earth, the living taste.
Admire the flying birds from thrush to crow
The earth has its own gravity and grace
Maintain the sacredness of this dear space

 

Note:Gravity and grace is the title of a book by the French mystic
Simone Weil

Do we choose what we perceive each hour?
Or are we automata clothed in skin
Which see the thorns and then ignore the flower?

Can we, like grass, be grateful for a shower.
Or is our store of gratitude too thin?
Can we choose what we perceive each hour?

 

Can we choose to smile instead of cower?
Can we  love the game  played not to win?
Who  sees  sharp thorns and then ignores the flower?

 

Do we   choose  to love or to play power;
Can we  choose   the virtue ,not  the sin?
Do we choose what we perceive each hour?

 

As we struggle inside Babel’s tower
Our ambivalence  tortures us within
Most see the thorns and then ignore the flowers

With   softened eyes, we see the entire bower
If we move ,  we see what is now dim
Do we choose what we perceive each hour?
Some  see the thorns and then ignore the flower

 

 

Could you write a poem if you tried?
It’s just a few black patterns on the page.
I  wrote this villanelle  before I died

Would you write free verse,  just on the side?
Or would the lack of form  make you enraged?
Could you write a poem if you tried?

Do you  know what manners like to hide?
Would you keep your black  dog in a cage?
I wrote this villanelle  before I died

Has your ink got all glued up and dried?
Does your handwriting  fit  on the page?
Could you write a poem if you tried?

Write all day and weep  when you decide
My cat and I have now become engaged
I wrote this villanelle  before I died

Do  not let the critics you deride
At the worst, you ‘ll start a brand new page
Could you write a poem if you tried?
I  wrote this villanelle  before I died

 

 

I’ll have to give up writing villanelles
My rhymes are strained so why not stop this game.
I’ll  write the  tales  of cats who went to hell

I thought if I wrote dozens in  a spell
I’d get  more skilful and  relax again
I’ll have to give up writing villanelles

My inner critic says we’re going to move to Hull
I don’t know if it’s Larkin   being  famed
I’ll  write the  tales  of cats who went to hell

I guess the housework made me feel unwell
I didn’t do it but I saw it, all the same.
I’ll have to give up writing villanelles

Maybe my ideas need to gell
And that’s not easy with a villanelle
I’ll  write the  tales  of cats who went to hell

I ought to write some words that I can sell.
Or letters to the  papers,  all insane
I’ll have to give up writing villanelles
I’ll  write  more  tales  of cats who went to hell!

The places I associate with you,
Durham in the  deepest, whitest frost
The places that I dream  of what we  knew

We walked  the Cleveland Hills when love was  new
Saw  icy windows in your parent’s house.
The places I associate with you

 

Lincoln floodlit,  threw  me  to my knees….
We crossed the Humber in midwinter lost
The places  that I dream  of, that we  knew

Christmas time  your mother  felt   the so blue
We  walked  the sea edge Redcar,Saltburn first .
The places I associate with you

But where’ve you gone and  why  is there no clue?
I travel in my dreams ,with you  impressed.
The places I associate with you,
The spaces   where we  travelled ,where are you?

I long to see your face just one more time.
I didn’t know that day  would be the last.
I can’t create the real by using rhyme.

You’d  smoke a cigarette  and write some lines
About the mountains that we’d  climbed or  passed
I long to see your face just one more time.

On Ingleborough  we had made designs
But heavy rain came down and we were lost
I can’t create the real by using rhyme.

We turned around as if it were a crime,
For we knew  such decisions have a cost
I long to see your face just one more time.

I teased you  on the muddy  slopes  in mime
I could not speak for I had seen  your ghost
I can’t create the real by using rhyme.

 

In Dent  or  up in Teesdale  will you come?
Or  by  scarred boats in Staithes,  eternal rest?
I long to see your face just one more time.
I can’t create the real by using rhyme.

 

 

 

I wish that I had kissed you ten more times
I didn’t know  how soon you had to leave
I’d   draw upon your lips my best design

I tell my love in words,  which is no crime.
I didn’t show you all you might receive
I wish that I had kissed you ten more times

If I had  bought you  bottles of best wine
Would you have stayed and  kept me unbereaved?
I’d   draw upon your lips my best design.

I know you were perceptive and read signs
Eyes a-crinkle   green as sun washed  leaves
I wish that I had kissed you ten more times

I’d  hold your  mind and  weave  your thoughts to rhymes
Until  the  truest love poem  arrived
I’d   draw upon your lips my best design.

I’d write  you letters ,much love I would leave
With my mind and body I perceive.
I wish that I had kissed you ten more times
I’d   draw upon your lips our own design

I am no less human   than before
The way you  speak does not true measure grant
Can it be it measures you  who score?

I  trusted you who begged me to adore.
Yet looking back the basis was too scant
Still I am no less human   than before

Moderation is a  better  core
Bewitching love is what you seemed to want
Can it be it measures you  who score?

What ever I gave, you always wished for more.
With criticisms you often me did  taunt
Still I am no less human   than before

When I saw your rage I  sought the  door
You took for granted I’d dwell in your haunts
Can it be it measures you  who score?

Though you might beg  while kneeling on the floor
I  wish for nothing but you be absent
I am no less human   than before
Can it be it measures you  who score?

 

 

 

 

 

 

The article I posted this morning points out that because of the repition o two of the lines a villanelle is especially suited to write about something that is bothering us a great deall.Dylan Thomas wrote “Do not go gentle into that goodnight”   when he learned hius father was dying.But his father did not know.
Because of the importance of the repetition they recommend writing the last two lines  before you write the body of the poem.So that is what I did with “I can’t believe,I wown’t believe you’re dead.” I think it is a very wise idea
Because of the strength of  repetition it would be suitable for writing about an unhappy love affair as well as death.Or maybe about breaking up with someone.

Do not destroy the  joy of  all we  had
If you need space then take it and be glad.

I just wrote that but I don’t know if I can write a whole villanelle.
Well I managed it but I may want to edit it some more.And it does seem suited to strong feelings.Otherwise it’s   just an intellectual jigsaw puzzle as my friend said

DO NOT DESTROY

Do not destroy the  joy of  all we  had
The good need  not be lost when lovers part.
If you need space then take it and be glad.

Because I love you, I shall  now be  sad
But there’s no need to  stab me in  the heart
Do not destroy the  joy of  all we  had.

With your loving words I once was clad
Now naked to the winds, I must  depart
If you need space then take it and be glad.

The only constant love is that of God
No Eros is He with his arrowed darts
Do not destroy the  joy of  all we  had.

On these forlorn, faint tracks I have  once trod
In my mind I search for   ragged  charts
If you need space then take it and be glad.

I have my maps and now am fully clad.
With tenderness,farewell my dearest heart.
Do not destroy the  joy of  all we  had.
If you need space then take it and be glad.

 

 

 

 

It doesn’t matter what the doctors said.
I know you’d never leave me here alone.
I don’t believe , I  won’t believe you’re dead.

You’ve always like a nice lie down in bed
And never, ever answered your iphone
It doesn’t matter what the doctors said.

The doctors  scanned  those parts angels tread
The priest said that you’re going across to Rome
I don’t believe ,I  won’t believe you’re dead.

I know your friends  are pleased I keep you fed
And snatch an hour  or more for  writing poems
It doesn’t matter what the doctors said.

My cousins  told me that I should be glad.
I have free time and all the world  to roam
I don’t believe,I  won’t believe you’re dead.

They say to  find another man instead.
That nearly made me  lose my funny bone
It doesn’t matter what the doctors said.
I don’t believe , I  won’t believe you’re dead.

 

We don’t die,  we merely  cease to be alive
Though the body looks the same to  strangers
From this truth, all other  thoughts must be  derived

Though the anguish in our  bosoms ever writhes
All the  sacraments of death  and law arranged
We don’t die,  we merely  cease to be alive

To hide these  blatant truths, society connives.
We weep and moan and we are called deranged
From this truth, all other  thoughts must be  derived

The loss is like a stabbing  with some fearsome knives
Though we sensed the presence of the  angels.
We don’t die,  we merely  cease to be alive

God has turn asunder  gentle man and wife
Some say, you start  another newer page
From this truth, all other  thoughts must be  derived

 

We don’t die,  we merely  cease to be alive.
From this truth, all other  thoughts must be  derived