Living Up To My Name
Don't know if I ever mentioned this before, but my name, Devin, is actually Irish for poet. If you ever see the name, Devon, fyi, that's the English version. Which, actually also means poet. Both names are neuter, I've met about an equal mix of both, but I don't know if one is more common. Its a pretty rare name, though not unique. There are currently three of us in my school of 1300. Still, I like having a rarer name, but having the Irish spelling does mean that I have to correct people all the time. Still, I'm more Irish than English, so it makes sense.
Anyway, to get back to my original purpose, I do live up to my name in my love of poetry. I've been writing poetry on and off since 4th grade. I've already posted some about my poetry habits, and months ago I posted some prose writing of mine. Now, I think its time to get back to posting my writing. Under the cut are three villanelles. If you've never heard that last word before, trust me when I say you're not alone. Earlier, I made this post about villanelles, describing what they are. So, if you're curious head on over for the discussion of their structuring, which is kind of complex. (Oh, and as a note to that entry, I haven't started on any of the HP villanelles.... the number of unfinished projects I have lying around is astronomical.) Anyway, here are the three poems:
This first poem was written for a Valentine's Day assignment in 9th grade:
Erosion and Heat
In darkness you cannot know I’m not whole,
Somehow my emptiness is everywhere,
I am full of sweet wine; drink from my soul.
I’m in the waiting line to pay the toll,
Beyond typical golden lights, I stare,
In darkness you cannot know I’m not whole.
My quest is for he who makes the waves roll,
If he makes angels float and eagles dare,
I am full of sweet wine; drink from my soul.
If my light is reflected in this coal,
I will not let go until the rope tears,
In darkness you cannot know I’m not whole.
Severed rope, I will drown in my hole,
Under covers, warm tears would roll with care,
I am full of sweet wine; drink from my soul.
Surrounded by the coveted he stole,
Happiness constricts the passage of air,
In darkness you cannot know I’m not whole,
I am full of sweet wine; drink from my soul.
This second villanelle was written after Soph Hop, in April of my sophomore year. The title means "The Lemon King":
Le Roi de citron
I’ll hold my breath; I won’t drown in this rain
I fight endlessly to remain serene
Waiting for the gunshot to bring my pain
If the Good he bears and the great sustains
I’ll follow the Lord to the end of green
I’ll hold my breath; I won’t drown in this rain
Only bloodstains remain of the Queen’s reign
Wife of Louis, he like I the sixteen
Waiting for the gunshot to bring my pain
I’m joyless in the rhythm the waves feign
The shrouded distance of the in between
I’ll hold my breath; I won’t drown in this rain
I’ve fin’ly escaped the black hole’s domain
Found warmth and a fall-out shelter unseen
Waiting for the gunshot to bring my pain
I were that he who kisses be thrice slain
I pray that time’s dagger be not too keen
I’ll hold my breath; I won’t drown in this rain
Waiting for the gunshot to bring my pain
This third villanelle was actually just finished a few minutes ago, but 95% of it was written about 2 months ago:
Drowning (In) My Will To Fly
You are the angel ascended from hell
Your gaze is frigid yet each contact sears
What ecstasy to be under your spell
Serpent strangling what I have to tell
Your tongue entreats many feminine ears
You are the angel ascended from hell
Foully intoxicating is your smell
I’ll not breathe as one infinitely near
What ecstasy to be under your spell
Toward blackness I’m lured, what if I fell?
Brutal resolution to all my fears
You are the angel ascended from hell
Bewitching me with your luscious gospel
Your prowess provoking me without peer
What ecstasy to be under your spell
You would keep me as a silenced bell
These blue waves do nothing but draw my tears
You are the angel ascended from hell
What ecstasy to be under your spell
Please let me know what you think, and feel free to ask questions. My writing is definitely deflective to an extent. It has to be so that it can be shown to people I know without giving away what I'm talking about. Hopefully, more non-villanelle poetry will be in this journal's future.