Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

crappy romance villanelle

i wrote it, but i will never publish this piece of bullhonky.

mayhap you'll like it:

villanelle:

the end of things, it always comes too late
when lions yawn and fires smolder down
we could have used a faster great escape

when cars give out and engines creak and groan
when telephones fall quiet just like stones
the end of things, it always comes too late

when lipstick blurs and whispers lose their moans
we lingered in an autumn after birds flew on
we could have used a faster great escape

when all the roses drop into the loam
and then thorns drop, too, with stems and bones
the end of things, it always comes too late

when we were together, we were still alone
the ants have conquered pantries, while we were home
we could have used a faster great escape

the candles died, we sat in darkness long
too long, waiting for the other to come
the end of things, it always comes too late
we could have used a faster great escape

edit: after much research, i have deduced that this is, in fact, the worst "poem" i have ever written. bask in its treacly glory. BASK IN THE TREACLY GLORY!

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