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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Other · #1282329
My first attempt at a villanelle.
                      For those who grieve, and those who grieve, not knowing why.

Now,
            my love, I too am trapped in here (as well
            as on the bright, the vast, the summer sea)
            where ghouls and imps inside make Hell,

                        where fears and hopes, long trying, long vying, to dwell
                        where a whole and healthy heart once used to be.
                        My love, I – too – am trapped in here as well.

Now,
            my love must flee; it burns and yearns to tell
            the story of a broken heart, but cannot see
            (when ghouls and imps inside make Hell).

                        Where are You, Soul of Souls, Who knows to heal
                        where wounds and tears will long fester, unseen to me?
                        My Love, I too am trapped in here as well.

Now,
            my love bursts out. Its putrid demons it expels,
            and my heart exhales, weeping softly for all and any
            Whom ghouls and imps inside make Hell

                        Where are you, my loves, who Hell’s fire smell?
                        Where shall we meet, you and I, and together grieve?
                        My love, I still am trapped inside as well,
                        where now ghouls and imps sometimes make Hell.
© Copyright 2007 S.O. Hart (soh65 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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