Battlegrounds
 

REVISION 3

Inside the bleakness of despair
over rubble and contorted bone
the blind, black eyes of buildings stare.

We are beyond the help of prayer.
The burden of our dead has grown
inside the bleakness of despair.

Not one hand reaches out in care
as much is said but nothing’s shown.
The blind, black eyes of buildings stare.

What’s left of life’s well past repair.
We reap what enemies have sown
inside the bleakness of despair.

The foul now redolents the air.
Our children sacrificed on stone
while blind, black eyes of buildings stare

We’ve lost all hope and have to bear
flies humming in a monotone
inside the bleakness of despair.
The blind, black eyes of buildings stare.



REVISION 2


Out from the bleakness of despair
over rubble and contorted bone
the blind, black eyes of buildings stare.

The foul now redolents the air
with bodies offered on the stone
inside the bleakness of despair.

There is no God inside our prayer.
The number of our dead has grown
while blind, black eyes of buildings stare.

Bodies broken, blood black, sprung snare
Flies humming on a single drone
inside the bleakness of despair.

The waning moon with mythic ware
of folk tale legend borne in bone,
receives the black eyed buildings’ stare.

What aspect will the goddess wear
the maiden, mother or the crone
inside the bleakness of despair.
The blind, black eyes of buildings stare.


REVISION

Out from the bleakness of despair
over rubble and contorted bone
the blind, black eyes of buildings stare.

The foul now redolents the air.
Bodies lie broken on the stone
inside the bleakness of despair.

There is no Jesus hearing prayer.
The number of our dead has grown
while blind, black eyes of buildings stare.

We cannot offer what is fair,
our sacrificial smoke has blown
its acrid bleakness to despair.

The waning moon with mythic ware
of folk tale legend borne in bone,
receives the black eyed buildings’ stare.

What aspect will the goddess wear
the maiden, mother or the crone
inside the bleakness of despair.
The blind, black eyes of buildings stare.



ORIGINAL

Out from the bleakness of despair
over rubble and contorted bone
the blind, black eyes of buildings stare.

Our children are quite well aware
that all the blood you squeeze from stone
is hope in bleakening despair.

The foul now redolents the air.
Bodies lie broken on the stone
and blind, black eyes of buildings stare.

Our last recourse is primal prayer
now sacrificial smoke has grown
in acrid bleakness and despair

The waning moon, its mythic ware
of folk tale legends borne in bone,
receives the black eyed buildings’ stare

What aspect will the goddess wear
the maiden, mother or the crone
inside the bleakness of despair.
The blind, black eyes of buildings stare.

Hello Jan,

I am all for little variations in a form, but for me your repetition of "stone" indicates you could probably find something better, a better rhyme, better lines, better movement in the "chord" progression.

In terms of the "chord" progression (the movement of mood and motif across the stanzas), I would swap stanzas 2 and 4. One of the conventions of a villanelle is a stanza which functions like an epigram with some oddball witty or surprising saying which takes an unusual angle at the dominant thematic riff, and I reckon the poem is better off to immediately amplify the serious mood of stanza 1, and then latter go for your epigram and then bring the poem home with doubling down of "mythicness" of the last two stanzas.

Also moving stanza 4 up to stanza 2 means you bring in the "mythic" motif earlier, and allow the final two stanzas to be foregrounded, instead of just suddenly pilling on all the mythic stuff in your last three stanzas.

Hi Jan,

I am basically just bumping this back to the top of the board after my comment on one of my older poems bumped it down. I want to write some villanelles of my own so every one I read is educational in some way. This has some starkly lean and almost scary lines and I hope to come back with a closer look.

All the best,
Jim

Hullo Yves,

I am not unhappy with the repetition as to me it adds to the overall feel of what I am wanting to say. What I love about convention is how little authority they really have.

The progression is based on the despair in the gulags. On the modern battlegrounds the non combatants (collateral damage) are similarly crippled with despair. As despair increases there is a total break from what used to be, as thinking of the former world exacerbates the depression of living in the present hell. As such there becomes a movement away from Christianity as there is no solace to help, futility is absolute and so the world retreats into a primal state recreating a religion or accepting more primitive concepts.

Hello Jan,

Partly, I wonder what you would come up with if you had to find another rhyme, and partly I wonder how many times you need to mention broken bones on stone before it becomes a bit... gratuitous like a camera that lingers and lingers on the broken bones and then lingers some more. Is the point not made? Does one not become dulled to repetitive tragedy?

Let us just assume your thesis about going further and further from Christianity in times of despair is reasonable, because that is just table stakes for this poem to exist, then does the progression of the last three stanzas seem more reasonable to me?

Originally, the context I viewed the poem is that the pitch of despair had already been reached in the first line "Out of the bleakness of despair", and what the other lines were doing was simply beating the drum over and over again, so I would not have felt the need to set up "Our last recourse is primal prayer".

I suppose the "bleakening" in "bleakening despair" might be setting up progressive variables, but stanza 3 returns to kind of static present of stanza 1 of "the catastrophe has already happened and reached its peak and this is where we have arrived at far beyond the catastrophe".

Maybe you could find another rhyme for "stone" to strengthen the sense of the progressive dynamic movement of the negative emotion "despair". I suppose my issue with your breaking of convention with the repetition of the "stone" rhyme is in an expression of how I interpret your handling of the dynamic versus the static in relation to the cyclic within the standard movement of the villanelle (how one sets up and arrives at a climax if there is a climax). Is the despair progressing, cycling, being static? Is the mythos progressing, cycling, being static? Why? What effect does it create?

Originally, I got the feeling of increasing dependence on old mythos sort of like Wordsworth's "I’d rather be a Pagan suckled in a creed outworn" but I got that without needing such a linear progression either of the despair or the mythos in a villanelle, as the movement was implied, which is why I felt comfortable moving the stanzas around.

Hello, Jan,

Nice work with a strong and visually striking villanelle. The technical framework is solid, and the imagery resonates with bleak intensity.

A few things to consider:

• In the first stanza, I wonder about “contorted bone.” Does contorted feel quite right thematically? A term like splintered, broken, or shattered might better match the visceral, battlefield imagery you’re building.
• In stanza two, the line “all the blood you squeeze from stone” is vivid, but the you feels a bit unanchored, especially since it’s not echoed elsewhere. Perhaps a more neutral phrasing like “all the blood that oozes from stone” or “all the blood drawn from stone” might preserve the metaphor while avoiding ambiguity.
• In stanza three, “The foul now redolents the air” is grammatically off. Redolent is typically an adjective, not a verb. Maybe something like “The foulness now pervades the air” or “The stench now settles in the air”?
• From a sequencing perspective, it might be worth considering switching stanzas two and three. The appearance of “our children” seems more impactful after we’ve been immersed in the horror of the setting.
• Lastly, I’d recommend more consistency in the repetends. A little variation can be powerful, but too much can weaken the hypnotic rhythm that makes the villanelle form so effective.

This is already a powerful piece—bleak, resonant, and timely. I hope something here is helpful as you continue refining it.

Cheers,
…Alex

Jim, Alex and Yves,

Jim my apologies for my lack of acknowledgment

Alex and Yves,

Thank you both for solid crit.

Yves,

Yes the repetition is a risk and I have revised.

It is not my thesis this actually happened in the Gulags I have still got in the revision but that does limit the poem to a Westerns view which is problematic. It is the Lord of the Flies, in breakdown we revert.

Given his time and classical bent I guess Wordsworth would reference more a Romulus and Remus suckling. My reference is far more primitive.

Alex,

The contorted bone was the twisted steel reinforcing of concrete emblematic of building destruction.

I have dropped the squeezing of blood I also was not happy with it or the reference to children in that manner.

‘redolents’ lol allow me my denominalisation I can feel the itch in a grammarian’s trigger I aspire to some iconoclastic behaviour.

I hope the revision addresses some reservations.

Regards,

Jan

Hi, Jan! Sorry to be so late to the party. I've been circling this and enjoying your revision process.

Minor punctuational suggestions here (although I know you take a more minimalist approach to line-end punctuation and Oxford commas than I do):

What aspect will the goddess wear
the maiden, mother or the crone
inside the bleakness of despair.
—>
What aspect will the goddess wear —
the maiden, mother, or the crone—
inside the bleakness of despair?

I really love that bit, BTW, and what leads into it.

I like the new "drone" rhyme, too, although it took me two readings to figure out that it was the flies' sound, not a downed military drone that the flies had landed on. Maybe that's okay, though.

Since the repetends are so varied (although one more than the other), the double appearance of "bone" stands out a bit, but maybe that's okay, too.

Hello Jan,

I like the repetition of the "bone" rhyme, and you have addressed my issues with your 2nd revision in respect to how you lay out and progress your theme.

Yeah!

Jan, if you want to avoid ambiguity in S4L2 you could use "Flies humming in a monotone." S3L2 seems unnecessarily abstract. Can you turn it from a number to something we can visualize? I like Julie's suggestion of adding dashes to S6 to improve clarity.

Susan

Julie, Yves and Susan

Thank for the pushes and recommendations you have helped greatly as my vision started fogging.

I hope the third revision becomes the final.

Regards

Jan

Hi Jan,

While this was always gripping, I find it more accessible and moving now after revision. Thumbs up.

Jim

Hello Jan,

I do not think it is worth the loss of the following stanza:

What aspect will the goddess wear
the maiden, mother or the crone
inside the bleakness of despair.
The blind, black eyes of buildings stare.

Hello, Jan,

I agree with Yves about preserving the transcendental ending. Right now, the final stanza in Revision 3 — “We’ve lost all hope and have to bear / flies humming in a monotone” — while effective, essentially reiterates the prevailing themes of loss and decay already laid out in the previous stanzas. In contrast, your earlier version’s concluding stanza:

What aspect will the goddess wear / the maiden, mother or the crone / inside the bleakness of despair. / The blind, black eyes of buildings stare.

… offers a kind of volta — a mythic elevation that brings a broader lens to the devastation, adding symbolic and even archetypal weight to the poem. It feels like an imaginative leap that expands the emotional scope, rather than merely echoing the literal horror.

Also, I appreciated the progression of tone across the revisions — how you’ve shifted from stark grotesqueries (e.g., "Bodies broken, blood black") toward a more human and introspective mode, as in "Not one hand reaches out in care / as much is said but nothing’s shown.” That movement into the interior space of despair makes the poem feel more lived-in and less like reportage.

Continued good luck with this, Jan — it’s a powerful and resonant piece.

Cheers,
…Alex

Gives and Alex

I am grateful to you both. I’m afraid I have to put this one onto the back burner as I cannot decide my problem being the mythic ending constraints the thrust to be a western one.

Vacillatingly,

Jan

Jan,

It depends if your goal is to present a specific ideological message, or to present the best poem that you find.

The world has enough ideology.

Hi Jan,

I'm going to go out on a limb here and respectfully present a differing opinion from the seeming majority on here about your original refrains. To my ear, they did not vary too much to disrupt the echo the repetition creates. In fact, I found them to be more interesting than the strict repetition you've revised to, though I do appreciate the other edits that you've made.

I would encourage you to feel free to play with the strictness or looseness of the refrains. It can make a really powerful poem to have a fairly strict refrain that plays with the lines around it. It can also make a really interesting and playful poem to mess around with variation to a higher degree, even if sacrificing a bit of the echo. I would argue it depends on the individual poem and poet as to how much echo you want to hear in your villanelle. And critics are more than welcome to call it a loose villanelle or a wannabe villanelle. If an interesting poem is produced from it, I say so be it.

I know many will not agree with me, and that's okay, but I just thought it might be helpful to hear a different opinion, if only for future reference.

Take care,
Chelsea