[Andrew Frisardi]

I agree that reading this as an occasional poem, meant to honor a person’s birthday, puts a different spin on the cliché-ish second repetend. But there isn’t anything in the poem itself that clearly marks this as an occasional poem. This might be a direction that the last two stanzas could go, if the poet decides to revise. Maybe some direct address there, or some reference to a present birthday, would do the trick.

Another approach would be to tweak that repetend itself. The phrase each passing year has a padded sound, and is redolent of Hallmark. The line could be improved without too much sweat.

The first opening is a hard act to follow—both precise and ambiguous. I very much like the second two stanzas as well, but come up short, as others have, at youthful green veneer. First off, it’s not accurate: youth isn’t really veneer. Second, the phrasing is padded. And as a metaphor it doesn’t work: a plant doesn’t start to grow once it sloughs off its green.

The first two lines of last stanza seem rushed through, not really capitalizing on the possibilities of the earlier part of the poem.

Plenty of potential in this one, but a couple drafts away from being fully realized.

[Petra Norr]

This villanelle was posted yesterday and paired with "Lovechildren". I'm going to come right out and say that of the two, I like this best. "Lovechildren" may be interesting and different but it's also frustrating in its lack of clarity. This villanelle is better crafted and I like the message. As others have said, the ending could benefit from a bit more zing.

[David Rosenthal]

I have to agree with many of the crits offered above, though I liked the final stanza more than most posters.

David R.

[Michael Cantor]

Overall, this is well done - but I basically regard it as a casual poem - and I agree with most other posters that S4 is the strongest stanza, S5 the weakest, and it drops off at the end.

Suggestion - I think this would be greatly improved if L1 and L2 of S4 became L1 and L2 of the final stanza instead, providing this as the close:

So much that seemed too far, now seems too near;
so much that seems too fast, once seemed too slow;
the integers appear and disappear,
and you are more yourself each passing year.

I think that would be a great finale! Unfortunately, you can't just lift the existing S6L1 and L2 and plop them into S4, or it would sound as forced as S6 does now. So I think that for real improvement the poem needs the reconstituted S6 as above, and a more significant rewrite to S4 and S5, possibly using the existing S5 and S6 for parts, but also bringing in some changes.

[FOsen]

I share the sense that this is perhaps ninety percent of the way to where it should be. I wanted to sub in "as" and "through" for the first words of S2 L1 and 2, respectively. S5 L2 may as well be labelled "padding" - it really needs attention. Otherwise, I thought it was enjoyable enough.

Frank

[Alex Pepple]

The first three stanzas are moving and well-realized. After that -- as others have noted -- there's a sense of strain in the attempt to complete the form requirements. So, this is not finished yet, and taking the time for careful revising and re-revising can there, especially with the good pointers provided in this thread.

Cheers,
...Alex

[David Rosenthal]

Thanks again to Susan for hosting this and to Bruce for generous and insightful comments in all the threads. I am not a very good reader of these forms, and I have learned a bit from these poems and from the comments by Bruce and everyone else.

I was surprised to make the cut. This was the first villanelle I ever wrote, and the only one that I think is successful. I have tried no other repeating forms. I wrote this nearly 14 years ago for my wife on her 30th birthday, and it appeared in Blue Unicorn in 1999 or so under the title "At Thirty." I wrote two others around that time -- one also appeared in BU, but while I like it for sentimental reasons, I don't think it good enough to have in my manuscript now; and the other is mostly garbage with a couple of lines I hope to salvage one day. I wrote a fourth several years later and brought it to the Deep End where I whittled it down to an eight line poem with no trace for the original repetends. So ended my repeating forms output.

Thanks to everyone for the many useful comments. I have already revised the thing. I had changed the title to get something more universal since the poem seemed to hold up just as well at forty as at thirty. But the discussion here has persuaded me to return to the original title -- it is an "ocassional" poem and I think that adds to it more than it detracts from it. I am also taking Frank's minor tweaks to S2.

"Shedding off" is the sort of mistake I am liable to make with my approach to meter, but a particular mistake I think I wouldn't make now, all these years later. Also the middle line of that stanza has always bothered me. So I have rewritten the stanza. I hope the rewrite helps make the final stanza more palatable as well.

I can't change the final stanza. This was a rare instance of one reader being more important than any others. As a beautiful woman turning thirty, two months into her second pregnancy, my wife understood "integers" not only as years but as inches and pounds. The final stanza is what made the poem for her then and now. I don't know what to say to people who had trouble with "your legs from toe to toe." Seems pretty clear to me.

So, for those who are interested, here is the revised poem:

AT THIRTY

The integers appear and disappear
and take their fractions with them when they go,
but you are more yourself each passing year.

As water makes a jagged rock a sphere
through unrelenting bouts of ebb and flow,
the integers appear and disappear.

The numbers used to be a source of fear,
distracting you from what you've come to know,
that you are more yourself each passing year.

So much that seemed too far, now seems too near;
so much that seems too fast, once seemed too slow;
the integers appear and disappear.

The sums and differences can seem severe
at times, but you’ll outlast them as you grow,
becoming more yourself each passing year.

Your hands, your arms, your face from ear to ear,
your hips, your breasts, your legs from toe to toe --
the integers appear and disappear,
and you are more yourself each passing year.




Thanks again you brilliant Sphereans.

Best,

David R.