On the Odd Quality of Trumpets in the Mist (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

Day 5 of NaPoWriMo is a bit complicated. We’re to write a villanelle that uses a line from another poem and also uses lines with opposing ideas. My first line, which repeats, is from Stephanie Brown’s Schadenfreude. My third line, which also repeats, is in opposition to the first. Anyway, here’s my stab at it.


There should be the sound of trumpets, thin and mournfulIMG_7102
As we emerge in mist and set off on our journey.
We’ll make song, laughter, and love seem normal.

It’s only a walk. We won’t be won’t be beaten and forlorn, so
We can rise up and never be brought to our knees.
There should be the sound of trumpets, thin and mournful.

We won’t be stopped, though we know we’re only mortal.
We’re made of stiff stock and can always foresee
That we’ll make song, laughter, and love seem normal.

Savagery is defeated by being kind and cordial,
But we’re fighting destruction of civil society.
There should be the sound of trumpets, thin and mournful.

The angels among us sing out with joy and hearts so full
Of love that we continue to believe in future with peace.
We’ll make song, laughter, and love seem normal.

The waters rise and smoke chokes our lungs, so
We raise our banners and fists as we march through the country.
There should be the sound of trumpets, thin and mournful.
We’ll make song, laughter, and love seem normal.

 

 

Another Train Song (#poem, #villanelle)

Standing on the platform, waving goodbye to yesterday’s train.
Perhaps you wanted to feel you had a little bit of control.
You’re saying you hope that train never comes back again.IMG_2697

A peripatetic pretense helps to ease the pain.
It’s a phantom journey, but no one has to know.
Standing on the platform, waving goodbye to yesterday’s train.

You collected yourself, stood erect, and hoped to appear sane.
I’ve been on this journey for years—the train is so slow.
You’re saying you hope that train never comes back again. 

I think all I wanted was shelter from this rain,
But you’ve let the rot set in and grow,
Standing on the platform waving goodbye to yesterday’s train.

You’re still battling the demons I thought we’d slain,
We could have escaped together and reached our goal.
You’re saying you hope that train never comes back again.

 You wished me well, and I left after the hurricane,
And now you seem darkened by your own shadow.
Standing on the platform, waving goodbye to yesterday’s train.
You’re saying you hope that I never come back again.