English 343 Creative
Writing: Poetry
Department of Continuing
Dr.
EXERCISE 18 -- Villanelle.
A. Reading
Do not go gentle into that good
night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end
know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Step In
"The winds that will be howling at all hours..."
Wordsworth
Outside the winds howl and rant and scream,
Their teeth would like to chew the houses down.
Ignore them now and step into the dream.
Sleep's no longer possible. You seem
Distracted lately, frozen into frown
Because the winds just howl and rant and scream.
Drink your coffee hot and thick with cream,
Look out your window at the swirling town.
Ignore it all and step into the dream.
Warm your face in aromatic steam --
Your eyes look past reflection, deeper down;
Your ears hear winds that howl and rant and scream.
Slip your tired body in between
The place where night has torn her sable gown.
Ignore the world and step into the dream.
You see the strength of wind and rushing stream,
Great power of verb to drive the helpless noun.
Outside the winds still howl and rant and scream.
Ignore them now and slip into the dream.
Theory Is The Mind and Soul of Skill
Theory is the mind and soul of skill
As nerves bind brain to fingers, tongue and hand.
A webby world winds round air, sea and hill.
Sometimes in vivid dreams of flight and thrill
You jerk awake, bewildered on bare land.
Theory is the mind and soul of skill.
Imagination, like the arrow's quill,
Guides winged thoughts and words, habit be damned.
A webby world winds round air, sea and hill.
Brilliant light, white heat, fierce wind and chill:
Sun gleams off diamond snow or bone white sand.
Theory is the mind of soul and skill.
Clouds drape mountains where tiny alpine rill
Swells into a mighty river, and
A webby world winds round air, sea and hill.
Blessed mind and sacred body, won't you fill
All life with wonder, every strand?
Theory is the mind and soul of skill--
A webby world winds round air, sea and hill.
B. Writing