A villanelle in my mind

I spend my time in my mind

Where the sun is black, the moon is read

And frogs enjoy swinging on the vines

My thoughts will dance around my head

They say being normal is a crime

I spend my time in my mind

Things are strange in my mind

There’s someone playing drums, whose name is Fred

And frogs enjoy swinging on the vines

In my mind my ideas are fed

I spend my time in my mind

And frogs enjoy swinging on the vines

A Rainy Villanelle

I always seem to see the rain

It’s going to kill me soon

I mean, what does it gain?

It’s giving me a pain,

Let me tell you,

I always seem to see the rain.

Look at the lovely plants I’ve lain

Drowning with the monsoon

I mean, what does it gain?

I always seem to see the rain

A Villanelle on not knowing what to say

I am writing a villanelle

I don’t know what to say

Oh I should say I’m wearing Chanel

I’m not an angel

I have a friend called Fay

My friends are all Angels from Hell

I fell

I fell the other day

I fell into a cell

My cell was in Kells

Kells is in Meath, is what they say.

I am writing a villanelle

And I don’t know what to say.

A Forest Villanelle

Here's the second in our series of specially adapted Honey Fungus style Villanelles... enjoy

I love the forest in which the animals dwell

Where the trees are oh so tall

I those woods I feel so swell

I hate the city it feels like hell

I hate the city, I hate the mall

I love the forest in which the animals dwell

I hate those places where I feel

Like I’m away and not at home at all

I love the forest in which the animals dwell

In those woods I feel so swell

Villan-elle - Dog v's Sister Jane

Today in Group we experimented with the Villanelle form - of course adapting and fitting it suit ourselves, and we got some pretty nice results - which we'll be showcasing here over the next couple of weeks, so here's the first:

That dog is on that chair over there,
Sister Jane can't adjust,
It's strange because that chair is usually bare.

Sister Jane goes to the chair,
She feels fit to combust,
That dog is sitting there, its coat full and fair.

Her mouth holds traces of smiles being rare
She is melting, turns to rust
That dog is on that chair over there,
It's strange because that chair is usually bare.