Don’t Cower To The Dark
September 15, 2007 by Shirley Allard
Don’t cower to the power of the dark,
The saber that you hold within your fist.
Reach out and grab the chance to make your mark.
If dreams are not pursued they’re but a lark,
Compounding all the light that you have missed
Don’t cower to the power of the dark.
Reach deep within yourself and find that spark
In solitude, where mortals have been kissed
Reach out and grab the chance to make your mark.
Reality is crude, and truth is stark
Recoiling from the warmth, you must desist
Don’t cower to the power of the dark.
Revive the child that frolicked in the park
Release your grown-up penchant to resist
Reach out and grab the chance to make your mark.
On journeys filled with light, we shall embark
Hearts thaw, words flow, the glow of healing mist
Don’t cower to the power of the dark,
Reach out, and grab the chance to make your mark.
It may be your first villanelle, but it is well done. I love the energy of this.
i know what you mean shirley… mine feels like pieces parts put together for rules not meaning… you did a really good job.. it is just a really hard form to follow and actually mean anything….
Thanks guys, I actually never enjoyed reading this form so I never attempted writing it…now that I have I think I like it even less!
But, you never know until you try!
In this piece I feel your ‘inner Shirley’ saying, “Okay… I did it, now what?” It’s a worthy experiment that you accomplished far better than I could ever hope, but it denies the ’soaring Shirley’ permission to take off, even if it gives her coordinates and flight plan.
To me, Shirley, reading your work is like equating writing a poem to flying an airplane. Writing to form is like flying a jumbo-jet; charting a flight plan and setting the coordinates into the computer before turning the engines on and allowing the plane to fly itself to your destination. Writing to your heart’s form is more like flying a single-engine Cessna just above tree-top levels, feeling the contour of the earth and marveling at every single sensation until you gently set it down in a farmer’s recently-mown pasture.
Amen! The comment is better than the poem…hey, you should take up writing. You’re pretty good at it! Thank you.