[Tim Murphy]

And another Powow Poet! Let me confess that I dislike villanelles, and I think this ridiculous form has finally met its comeuppance.

She Talks in Beauty Like a Villanelle

A proper, formal Miss, of classic phrase,
Her soft, hypnotic voice can weave a spell
That leaves this anxious suitor in a daze:
She is my siren of the villanelle.
Those retold lines and oft-repeated rhymes,
Old-fashionedly romantic Gallic pace,
The ease with which she makes each point four times,
Accent her elegance, her form, her grace.

And if she seems to stutter, just as well -
No twists or turns or sonnets’ clever ways
Disturb the quiet, mesmerizing swell
Of every echolalic, encored phrase,
As I begin to see that I adore
A nagging and reiterative bore.

--Michael Cantor

[Dick Davis]

Well yes Tim but as I have a soft spot for well turned villanelles I demur a bit I think. This is certainly a very well turned sonnet though, that’s for sure, and I especially like the way the first three lines of the sestet culminate in the very satisfying fourth line. But I would say that the poem slightly runs the risk of drawing the criticism it aims at villanelles – basically it says the same thing a few times over. The volta to some extent deflects that criticism perhaps, because the octave seems all praise and then in the sestet we have revealed mounting irritation, so making us reread the octave as ironic, if we hadn't already picked up on that. Even so . . . The problem is how to write about boredom without being boring I suppose. I’ve hesitated a few times over the final couplet: the last line is nicely annihilating, and I like very much the way Michael Cantor, throughout the poem, has no trouble at all integrating interesting polysyllabic words into the meter – Old-fashionedly, echolalic and reiterative are especially satisfying in this way – but I’m not sure that line 13 works as one wants it to. "Adore" seems to be there for the rhyme: I feel it doesn’t quite come off. A small hiccup, I feel, in an otherwise almost flawless technical performance. And it’s nice to have some spleen after such a great deal of good will.

[Tim Murphy]

Dear Michael, If Professor Davis' complaint resonates with you, you could adopt the courage of my conviction:

As I begin to see that I deplore
That nagging and reiterative bore.

As one who writes almost exclusively in Anglo-Saxon vocabulary, I like Dick adore the vocabulary of this; and Dick, I adore one author of villanelles, the Divine Wendy Cope.

[peter richards]

Bit of a sinful thing to do, but DD's comment: "...ironic, if we hadn't already picked up on that.", tempted me to look for some way to avoid giving the game (of irony) away as early as
"A proper, formal Miss," risks doing:

She has the perfect form that I desire,
Her soft, hypnotic voice can weave a spell
That fuels the flames of this poor suitor's fire:
She's my prometheus; my villanelle.

Perhaps I'm wrong though (it has been known), maybe those first words have just the right amount of nurse's uniform erotics.

Generally speaking, any poem about poetry is lkely to land a couple of aha's short of an inspiration.

Peter SR

I see I crossed with Tim - and I haven't sinned alone.

p

[This message has been edited by peter richards (edited May 08, 2002).]

[Roger Slater]

Even though I can think of only two villanelles that I truly admire (Roethke's "Waking" and Espaillat's "Song"), I'm still weirdly fond of the form, along with its cousin, the terzanelle (of which there are, alas, no truly successful examples to my knowledge), so I balk a bit at the conceit of Michael's very skillful sonnet while admiring the skill and aplomb with which he pulled it off. I'd look to Michael's recently-posted monorhyme sonnet, though, for an even more skillful and successful sonnet with a more varied range of expression and feeling (despite the monorhyme).

I'd consider taking Tim's suggestion, "deplore" for "adore." I'd also consider finding an entirely new line to replace L4, which is covered by the title.

I think the poem really takes off in L7, with the sarcasm of "she makes each point four times," which is a sarcastic compliment that shows how annoying her "virtues" are. In L8, maybe "Belie" instead of "Accent"?

I just saw Peter's comments, which are good.

That's some Powow to keep producing poems like this!

[Bruce McBirney]

Tim, like you, I'm usually not very fond of villanelles (except Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle"). But although Michael's sonnet good-naturedly trashes villanelles, I suspect that deep down he's actually in Dick and Roger's camp on this one.

Michael's fine sonnet appears in the current (Winter, 2002) issue of The Lyric on the same page as...an equally fine villanelle written by Michael! (The villanelle is about the similarities of villanelle-writing and gourmet cooking, no less.)

Michael, I hesitate to post a poem by a living writer without permission. I wonder if you could post your villanelle here for all to admire.

[Dick Davis]

While we're on villanelles I have a request. I once saw a villanelle about writing villanelles (I think one of the repeated lines was "It really isn't hard at all", or something very close to that). It was written in the first half of the 20th century, and I think by a Brit. I remember it as quietly witty and deflating, and generally well written, but failed to make a note of where I saw it and have never seen it again. Can anyone help me locate this?
Dick.

[Clive Watkins]

Amusing poem, Michael!

By way of an aside...

I have no special antipathy to villanelles. One of my favourites is Elizabeth Bishop's "One Art".

Clive Watkins

[Roger Slater]

Dick, that sounds familiar, and I have some ideas where to look. In the meantime, since I couldn't find the one you were looking for, I tried to fill the gap with a piece of ephemeral doggerel that I hope Michael will forgive me for posting here:


AN EASY FORM

An easy form, the villanelle,
because some lines repeat,
though it's hard to do it well.

But in fact, the truth to tell,
it has a simple beat.
An easy form, the villanelle,

its rigors offer up a shell
where poets stuff their meat.
Though it's hard to do it well

it's not unnatural to dwell
on such a well-marked street.
An easy form, the villanelle,

whose repetitions, like a bell,
sound resonant and sweet.
Though it's hard to do it well,

to write a bad one isn't hell.
Behold another one: complete.
An easy form, the villanelle,
though it's hard to do it well.

[This message has been edited by Roger Slater (edited May 08, 2002).]

[David Anthony]

Dick, I've seen a few villanelles on writing villanelles (rather like sonnets on sonnets) but don't recall that particular one.
I think Michael's poem's ironic, using one strict form to chastise another, but I don't see it as really dismissive of the villanelle; in a way more like the long-suffering spouse, aware of the partner's weaknesses, annoyed by them, but loving the partner no less for that.
And how could you not love those musical French repeating forms, Tim? Mostly when we try to write villanelles in English we screw up, but when they're right ("Do Not Go Gentle") they are perfect.
Regards,
David