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Jodie-Elaine Nov 2018
He awoke on frozen concrete,
The broken glass.
Locked door, let the house run down around us,
At least we’re safe, right?
We had Time on our hands, we always said we’d go Someplace,
said our youth was a tragedy.
We’re our own worst enemies, silent screaming, kicking ourselves out the door, glass limbs.
Your hands fumbling over the catch of the lock, unmending the hinges.
The last glass we owned skidded off the other side of the table,
Throwing itself, disembodied and disfiguring
onto the floor.
We were empty in that last glass,
Cold eyes at means to an end.
Staring at the broken glass, wishing
To his sleeping form
It would glue itself back
Together

Together,
It would glue itself back
To his sleeping form.
Staring at the broken glass, wishing,
Cold eyes at means to an end.
We were empty in that last glass,
onto the floor,
Throwing itself- disembodied and disfiguring-
The last glass we owned skidded off the other side of the table,
Your hands fumbling over the lock, unmending the hinges.
Glass limbs.
We’re our own worst enemies, silent... screaming, kicking ourselves out the door,
Said our youth was a tragedy,
We had Time on our hands, we always said we’d go Someplace,
At least we’re safe... right?
Locked door, let the house run down around us...
The broken glass.
He awoke on frozen concrete.
mirror effect vilanelle-like poem, 2015. I've forgotten the name of this poetic technique. If anyone knows please tell me and release me from the niggling bug of not remembering
Tyler Houck May 2016
Here I am, waiting for you,
patiently, just so I can talk.
I hope I can trust you too.

Waiting under the sky’s red hue,
Here I am on top of this rock.
Here I am, waiting for you.

Because of the cold, I can see the dew
Forming on top of a flower near a tiny shamrock.
I hope I can trust you too.

I hope that you are not coming to bid adieu
as I sit here and check this clock.
Here I am, waiting for you.

The amount that I talk to you is unfortunately few,
but my secrets I wish for you to unlock.
I hope I can trust you too.

I see you coming all dressed in blue,
prepared to talk and never to mock.
Here I am, waiting for you.
I hope I can trust you too.
This is my attempt at a villanelle.
Cori MacNaughton Jun 2015
A Moment in Life Twice Lost to Time
The Swiss watch is my paradigm
Residing now ‘neath Tampa Bay
A moment in life twice lost to time

The gift, from a wall of ice to climb
In Luxembourg where I did stay
The Swiss watch becomes my paradigm

Research belaying the banker's crime
Through valleys green, o'er bridges grey
A moment in life twice lost to time

While belching diesels share their grime
And church bells call all souls to pray
This watch, my truest paradigm

In this city from another time
In Europe's heart I found my way
A moment in life twice lost to time

Returning from this land sublime
My walls and battlements fell away
Rodania watch, my paradigm
A moment in life twice lost to time

2 March 2000
This poem was my first, and to date only attempt at a villanelle.  The watch was a birthday gift from a doctoral candidate for whom I was acting as research assistant, which I lost years later, sailing in Tampa Bay.

I have read this in public but this is the first time it appears in print.
David Mar 2015
To arms! To arms! The battle calls
Stand up brave and loud in the light;
Rise to Valhalla at the fall.

Raise your arms, rush to the brawl,
Set your jaw firm for the fight.
To arms! To arms! The battle calls

Fade amidst the shouts of all
Young and old, try as they might
Rise to Valhalla at the fall.

Collapsing star, fiery thrall
Of destruction, burning bright –
To arms! To arms! The battle calls

Last words in the ****** hall;
Doing what he thought was right.
Rise to Valhalla at the fall.

You, my son, no more in life’s drawl
Fell from that brave black hallowed height:
To arms! To arms! The battle calls –
Rise to Valhalla at the fall.
Poppy Oct 2014
Villanelle
Please don’t stop the rain,
On the floor is where I lie
Ready to be hit by the pain

Distorted thoughts go through my brain
Asking questions, wondering why,
Please don’t stop the rain.

Keeps repeating, but I have to break the chain
I keep falling I can’t stop but I try
Please don’t stop the rain.

Pressure on me, slipping closer to the insane
People don’t see these tears, they don’t see me cry
Please don’t stop the rain.

I want to leave because I can’t take this pain
Fly away. Soar. Touch the sky.
Please don’t stop the rain.

As I slip away there is no strain.
On the floor is where I lie,
I am in a euphoric peace, no more pain.
Please don’t stop the rain.
I wrote this in English at school a few years ago, and heard James Morrison on the radio earlier that morning.

— The End —