Villanelle: Constraints of Form

Constraints of Form

I’m tired of villanelles. I want free verse.
These strictures would no doubt make Whitman cry.
I know he cried when he saw Lincoln’s hearse.

Expansiveness, that’s it. Throw off the curse
Of formalism before you mummify.
I’m tired of villanelles. I want free verse.

The villanelle renders my poetry terse
And unfit for a Whitman lullaby.
I know he cried when he saw Lincoln’s hearse.

Everything I say I must rehearse.
I think I’ve lost all spontaneity.
I’m tired of villanelles. I want free verse.

Whitman worked as a Civil War nurse.
He saw the bloody bodies piled high.
I know he cried when he saw Lincoln’s hearse.

Why can’t I cry? Has form emptied my purse?
I want to rip it off like a necktie.
I’m tired of villanelles. I want free verse.
I know Walt cried when he saw Lincoln’s hearse.



At 1.5 Kilorats,

CE