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A Villanelle poetic form
Is a Nineteen line poem
5 Stanzas of three lines
Followed by a single Stanza of four lines
Two refrains and two repeating rhymes
Rhyme patterns
A1 ,b A2.a,b ,A1.a,b,A2.a,b,A1.a,b,A2 ,a,b,A1,A2
Here is a famous Villanelle by Dylan Thomas.
1914-1953.
~~~~~~~~~
Do not go gentle into that good night
Old age should burn and rage 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 lightening 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 men 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 ***
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.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Posted by Philip as a Villanelle Exercise.
December 7th 2018.
An exercise in writing a Villanelle
of what is a love poem
for me, to me was

always cyclical
first noun
then pronoun
then nothing

noun loves me,
pronoun loves me not

noun loved me last week
prounoun loves me not this week

noun will love me evermore,
pronoun, poe-no, nevermore

a name is a noun
a pronoun is a substitute

for matters of love I announce forevermore
only call me by name
no substitutions

even cycles must end,
only call me by noun-name,
forevermore
TATTOOED

She appear Juicy,
Delicious Must be Her Pink *****,

I am Loving her, I am Liking her,
I Already Feel Like I am Licking her,
I Picture Myself Cracking her,

I Mean On Bed So Bad... .. . [•]  

She has a *****, Body... For Years like she has been craving for it Four Years, I am sure the day she Left, Her ex was in Tears,

because Of Her Warm Heart and beauty that Pierce Like Spears, and She is Steamy Like That Beef From Steers,

Should I go on in her Life? Or wait till the dust of her Previous Relationship Clears,

She has an Electronic Scent just like a ***** ready to mate, When I look at her image, it Stays Up Till Quarter to Nine, at Night, so Bright is her appearance, Curvey is her Body, She also appear Godly, I want her Badly, Madly and Sadly,

She is tattooed allover her Body, you can easily tell, She is a Freak, but to judge, You never know, I might be Quick,

Unbelievable is the way she make me Feel, She make me want to Kneel, Send her a Picture On My Knees Holding a Golden Diamond Ring,

She is a woman I wish She Could Break the Spring of my Single Bed, because I have a wish to make Love to her until my white blankets are Red, if she has it or not I am NOT afraid,

I am tired, of looking at her pictures, paralyzed like I am nothing, with a wish to give her something so pure like the love of Christ,
She is the type to get wet for days, I just wish we could lay together on bed and blaze, as I gaze at it ready to **** it, peel it and lick it when it starts to drip, her beauty held me with a strange grip, can't even believe the way it pulls me closer, its like my life is about to be over, because I would give my all to her, if this whole imagination thing works out,

I always work out, because when I have her that night I want us to burn out, ignite the forces of our newly found love, Given by the one from above, The moment I looked at her I was set free like a dove, Now I am attached to her tight like a glove,  

I like the fact that she has tattoos, freaky you can see her, the type that knows how to choose, now I have a wish to walk with her in these shoes, The way this whole thing goes, only *** knows, How her love wind blows, it might be deadly or friendly, because this type of a woman possesses some sort of super natural powers that I call Black Girl Magic,

Her body is on point, worth more than one point,

I am Liking and Loving her, wish to smell and touch her hair, she seem fair, I have got no fear but a wish to get near, Fall in Love and get out of here, When she read this I hope its my Voice That She hear.
Dedicated to my special perfectionist everyday lady crush Phomolo Dineo Seshohli.
out of all the beautiful, vibrant, vivid colors
i am a bland, dull, uninspired hue
between the words in a book,
withered, dehydration grass,
or the color of a summer hare.
however, i’ve been told that i was once creative,
rain twisted oil spilled on cement,
poppies in a mid-afternoon sun,
or the tone of a summer goldfinch.
i wonder if it was the sun’s rays that desaturated my existence
i am the product of years worth of desaturation.
Oliver Philip Nov 24
A limerick (3)
I am a poet.
~~~~~~~~~
I am a poet who loves his Queen
She loves him, do you know what I mean?
From dawn until dusk
Linked hearts in their trust
Forever and each year in between

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 25th 2018.
A limerick of love
Latifah Nov 9
Loving you,
is by far,
the scariest thing,
I’ve ever done.
Since you've been gone
empty chairs and empty
rooms
At times It seems as If
my very world has
ceased to be
Every day a struggle
to go to sleep to
nothing, and wake up
to nothing
And not wanting to do
anything, no drive now
left In me, thank *** I
have my poetry writing
to shelter
me from
harm
I poetry to keep from harm love write about my wife
Do you see us when we cry?
When we try to hide our faces in the sand?
have you ever thought it through,
That these people might be hurt too

Do we seem like we do not have pain receptors in us?
Nay, we are born out of bone and blood
We also feel the same pain you do
Only that the would sees us as weak and your strong when we show it

Do we seem like goats
We do not need to be told
“You are a man, be one”
Will you tell these words to my boy when I am gone?

Of course, I am a boy!
Is that a curse?
Can I not feel hurt as well?
Or will you only notice my tears when I drown in the well

Please look into my eyes and tell me
It’s okay to be a hurt boy.

From a friend that cares,
©Emmiasky Ojex
A poem on the negligence of the boy-child and total focus on the girl and the danger this may cause.
Heather Ann Oct 31
1; fear will not **** you, but it can eat you alive and make your insides rot.

2;you must allow yourself to thaw before you can melt--the cold was meant to allow you to feel your own heartbeat. don't ignore it

3; you are alive, even if just barely. make sure to lift your eyes to the sun to know that it still shines even amongst the dark.

4; breathe in with your nose and out through your mouth. you are a passageway for ancestral air and you should take that responsibility seriously.

5; your blood is not special, nor is it ordinary.

6; it is only by chance that you are here. a line of perfectly timed decisions birthed you--remember why you're here.

7; look at the mountains. they were here before you and will be long after you're gone. one day you will become the air that surrounds it.

8; you can lose your footing, but don't despair. sometimes you fall into a new path and it's like breathing in clarity you've never once known.

9; listen to what you're body tells you, it knows you better than you think.

10; when everything turns to dust remember you have the ability to start over. it cannot harm you to wipe the slate clean
"I just want everyone to leave me alone!"


-----


".....I'm so lonely....."
Written: October 21, 2018

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