Villanelle

Elizabeth Ten-Hove writes,

The world I knew is gone without a trace.
The walls and trees, the paths and where they led—
All’s lost behind a dancing veil of lace.

I crunch along as crystals sting my face;
There’s not a sound besides my noisy tread.
The world I knew is is gone without a trace.

Unsure of where I am, I slow my pace
And vainly search for landmarks up ahead:
All’s lost behind a dancing veil of lace.

Disoriented, lost in swirling space,
I wonder: is this where I’ll lay my head?
The world I knew is gone without a trace.

But I am sure of home in any place:
I never am alone, and need not dread.
All’s lost behind a dancing veil of lace.

I turn around and silently retrace
My wayward steps. How faithfully I’m led!
The world I knew is gone without a trace:
All’s lost behind a dancing veil of lace.

Posted at 2:52 pm EST on the 26th of January 2010 by E. M. Ten-Hove.

Under Art, Poetry as

There are 10 replies.
 
  1. Lucie says on January 26th, 2010 at 3:00 pm

    Very pretty sounding. And it’s patternly, which I like a lot.
    But what is the dancing veil of lace? From the whole poem, I had an image of someone trying to get somewhere during a snowstorm.

  2. E. M. Ten-Hove says on January 26th, 2010 at 3:31 pm

    The veil of lace is the snow; that’s what snow always reminds me of when it’s in very fine, feathery flakes.

  3. Lucie says on January 26th, 2010 at 4:27 pm

    Awesome. I’m glad I wasn’t deluding myself. ^_^

  4. Carson Spratt says on January 26th, 2010 at 6:49 pm

    Very interesting. The repetition of the last two lines throughout the poem lent it a sort of sound of confusion, and blindness, which is naturally what you see in a snowstorm. At least, that’s what I got out of it. Is the person who’s leading you in the last verse Jesus?

  5. V. K. Blake says on January 27th, 2010 at 10:08 am

    Oh, it’s snow. No wonder I didn’t get it. ^_^
    I’m not sure if I like the insistent use of the same rhyme scheme. At first it seemed really clever, and then it seemed to be getting old, and now it’s seeming clever again.

  6. Lucie says on January 27th, 2010 at 10:33 am

    True, Vicki, sometimes rhyme scheme can be annoying- but you have to admit, it takes talent to come up with 7 distinct words that rhyme with each other. ;)

  7. P. James McCord says on January 27th, 2010 at 11:33 am

    Good thoughts, Lizzy, and an interesting format.

    The punctuation seems slightly inconsistent. Is there a substantial difference between the pause indicated by the dash in line 2, and those denoted by colons in 8, 13, and 18? If not, I would go with one or the other. Dashes always seem cleaner to me, but the difference is minimal.

    And I should mention: if the above thoughts (or any subsequent comments I may make on your work) suggest indifference towards your stylistic independence, then tell me to shut up. Works every time.

  8. E. M. Hansen says on January 27th, 2010 at 2:49 pm

    For those who were commenting on the repetition: Two full repeated lines are among the requirements of the villanelle form.

    Miss Ten-Hove, this is very beautiful. The alliteration of ‘crunch’ and ‘crystals’ in l. 4 particularly illustrates the sound and sense of snow. I love that the repeated lines seem to lean toward either a hostile or a redemptive sense, depending on the context: the familiar world’s absence could imply confusion or new life, the loss of order and direction or the loss of the fallen world. Although you don’t use the word ‘white,’ the colour of snow — and redemption — might be read; and the veil reminded me of the temple curtain. Along with the idea of a journey and the words ‘faithfully… led’ in l. 17, it all seems to suggest — whether you intended this or not — the journey of life in Christ. Brava!

  9. P. James McCord says on January 27th, 2010 at 4:15 pm

    Thanks, Ella. Lizzy — listen to the person who knows what she’s talking about.

  10. E. M. Ten-Hove says on January 27th, 2010 at 4:26 pm

    Many thanks for all your comments!

    Vicki, I’m not so sure I like such a strict rhyme scheme either. I really wanted to try writing a villanelle (Dylan Thomas’ “Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night” is a much better example) and it was as I expected: fiendishly difficult. Should I ever rewrite the poem, I think I’ll choose something a little less binding.

    Thanks for the punctuation suggestions, James; I think I’ll put them into effect. I’m always a bit over-cautious about using dashes, although I’m very fond of them. I’m afraid to look like an Emily Dickenson copycat, I suppose.