From Graham, Roger’s friend and ole’ drinking buddy
Greetings from sunny Essex, UK.
Spring has arrived in a delirium of birdsong and the intoxicating scent of cut grass. The sun flames low, setting the river ablaze like smelted gold; gilding trees and rooftops. My gaze lingers as a curtain of dusk draws down; a darkening vignette blushes vermilion, among peach and lilac clouds. Stirring a quixotic soul to reverie.
But meanwhile… throughout the two decades I’ve known Rogie he’s loved writing villanelles. You may have noticed there’s entire forests of them populating this blog (and even more in printed collections). His enthusiasm even extended to encouraging me in the art. Although I rarely dabble nowadays. There’s something quite satisfying in their construction. A bit like finishing a crossword puzzle or a Sudoku. They may even have wellbeing benefits, who knows? Stimulating theta brainwaves or something…?
Assuming you’re interested in poetry (and not here checking for offensive content), I’d encourage you to try composing a villanelle of your own. It’s a fun challenge and could help to while away the boredom of commuting? Or offer a welcome distraction from the banal babble, ear-piercing screeches and nose-picking forays of fellow passengers? Certainly preferable to bumping along in a packed carriage facing someone daubing makeup on in some bizarre homage to Picasso?
Rog sometimes bestowed framed villanelles to friends for special occasions. (I’ve included an example near the end; ‘Free Spirits’.) I hope this might offer an added incentive to get writing. Imagine… sending an amorous villanelle to your secret valentine, or a Mother’s Day tribute that would touch the heart. Alternatively, it could be a satirical vehicle on the growing global trend in demagogues and dictators? Whatever, your choice.
I’ve included a writing guide below:
A lay-person’s guide to villanelles (by Prof. Phil E. Stein)
So I won’t bore you with stanzas, tercets and quatrains, blah blah…
Structure and rhyming scheme:
Simply, a villanelle is a poem of nineteen lines which is divided into 6 verses. The first 5 verses are 3 lines each. For each of these verses the first and third line rhyme. The very last (6th) verse has 4 lines - with the first, third and last line all rhyming.
A second (different) rhyming scheme is used on the second line of all 6 verses.
Line repetition:
From the first verse - Line 1 and line 3 repeat alternately on the last line for verses 2, 3, 4, and 5.
In the last verse things change. Line 1 and 3 from the first verse couple together – forming the last two lines.
It’s probably easier to understand structure if you search out some examples. Such as ‘Do not go gentle into that good night’, by Welsh poet Dylan Thomas.
Note 1 - on composing villanelles: I’m not aware of any limit on line length. So provided you can read aloud each entire line without gasping for oxygen then it’s probably fine.
Note 2 - on rhyming: ‘Internal rhyme’ can be used in the rhyming scheme, i.e., words with a similar vowel sound but not an exact rhyming match.
Tip: try jotting down two separate lists of all the words that work with your two rhyming schemes. You can then select from these while composing. And remember that line 1 and line 3 in the first verse need to make sense when placed together in the very last two lines.
* * *
As you can probably tell, I’ve never studied literature like wot Roger done. But I can at least pass on his verve for villanelles! I’ll leave you with some selected examples. And as a cheeky bonus I’ve even included one of my own.
Happy writing! x
* * * * * * * * * * * *
THE ZEN OF DISCERNMENT
Like ghosts, our years pass us,
(the mixed blessings of memory)
as hauntingly beautiful as stars
No lesser regard for science
than Earth Mother’s finer poetry,
like ghosts, our years pass us,
Images of laughter and tears
finest art can only ever but copy,
as hauntingly beautiful as stars
No hopes wing more precious
than family and friends in harmony;
like ghosts our years pass us
Come birdsong to fine old trees,
so joy and pain creating our history,
as hauntingly beautiful as stars
As centuries turn nature’s leaves,
so each human heart creates eternity
like ghosts, our years pass us,
as hauntingly beautiful as stars
Copyright R. N. Taber, 2011. Dedication: Jim Howard. From the collection Tracking The Torchbearer.
FREE SPIRITS
To Earth Mother, joy among tears
wherever we run
the gamut of life’s fears
Keeping faith with friendly trees,
embracing every one;
to Earth Mother, joy among tears
Come glorious sunsets on pastures
pink and green…
the gamut of life’s fears
Choice, all humankind gladly frees
to be true to its own;
to Earth Mother, joy among tears
Peace (nature too) will find enemies
where its colours run
the gamut of life’s tears
Gay love, blessed by summer kisses,
a bid for freedom won!
To Earth Mother, joy among tears,
the gamut of life’s fears
Copyright R. N. Taber, 2012. Dedication: written for Paul & Rob to celebrate their Civil Partnership in Biggleswade, Saturday 11 July 2009. From the collection: On the Battlefields of Love.
* *
WATERWAYS OF BRITAIN: MAKING PEACE WITH PROGRESS
On the waterways of Britain
(many neglected for years)
Man and nature as one again
Compensating for acid rain,
find honest sweat and tears
on the waterways of Britain
Ever mindful of loss and gain,
(Oh, spirited volunteers!)
Man and nature as one again
A testament to industry’s pain,
toiling through its centuries
on the waterways of Britain
Hosting the occasional swan,
even water voles and otters,
Man and nature as one again
Among such, pages written
of a nation’s finer endeavours;
on the waterways of Britain,
Man and nature as one again
Copyright R. N. Taber 2016. Note: I wrote this poem to accompany a video shot by Graham Collett for my You Tube channel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WA8VQoPgX2M
* *
A TREATISE ON EFFLUENCE
[or CONSUMERISM ANGST]
They’re feeding me crap
I’m the worm that turned*
I’m biting back
For our burger and bap
a forest burned
They’re feeding me crap
I am more than a stat!
Processed-mind; unlearned
I’m biting back
Your snake-oil snack
leaves my stomach churned
They’re feeding me crap
This consumerist trap;
my escape route discerned
I’m biting back
I’ll dump all these apps
Sail to Crusoe’s island!
They’re feeding me crap
I’m biting back
By Graham Collett, 2024. [Apologies for this vulgar effort!]
* ‘Even a worm will turn’ is an English language expression used to convey the message that even the meekest or most docile of creatures will retaliate or seek revenge if pushed too far. It was used in William Shakespeare’s play Henry VI. (Sourced from Wikipedia).
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