Trying my hand at a villanelle

At the start of the year my online group of poetry sisters decided to challenge ourselves with writing and posting poems all year with a different form for each month. January was triolets, and February has been all about Villanelles. I have to confess I have really struggled with this one! I had a story I wanted to tell about my young son and his first taste of hot peppers, but try as I might I could not wrestle that story into the strict form of a villanelle.

Wikipedia explains the structure this way: "A villanelle (also known as villanesque) is a nineteen-line poetic form consisting of five tercets followed by a quatrain. There are two refrains and two repeating rhymes, with the first and third line of the first tercet repeated alternately until the last stanza, which includes both repeated lines."

I really love the bounce and swing of the repeating lines. But boy, howdy this was a struggle! I did some free writing, made lists of verbs and rhyming end words, wrote some free verse, and wrote many drafts. I took advice from Kelly on how to use a table first made by Trisha in a Google doc, with the rhyme scheme and repeats laid out down the left hand margin. I listened to Tanita when she reminded me to develop a strong couplet in the first stanza to carry the repeats and build tension. Eventually I gave up trying to tell the whole story of how we came to grow hot peppers on the windowsill, and just tried to focus on the seed. After weeks of wrestling with it, I told myself if it was still a stinker by Thursday night I wouldn't post it at all. But low and behold, I refused to give up!

I scribbled a lot in my writing journal, and then put the draft up on a Google doc my poetry sisters and I were sharing. Reading and discussing their drafts and hearing their comments on mine was the fun part! With their encouragement and suggestions I did a lot of editing, rearranging, walking away, coming back, scowling and sighing. What I ended up with I will share here, but I consider it still a draft. There are still some bits that snag on my tongue. I will keep working on it, but for now here it is:

THE HEAT IS IN THE SEED

A seed discarded is not lost;

the smallest flame contains the spark.

For every blooming there’s a cost.

These faded buds their zest exhaust,

so sunlight fades into the dark.

A seed discarded is not lost.

Hot pepper’s fire is quickly tossed

(those pretty pods pulled on a lark),

for every blooming there’s a cost.

Hanging fruit turns ripe by frost;

or drops to dirt to leave its mark.

A seed discarded is not lost.

The sweet of fruit - to some mere dross;

young flowers knew it as an ark.

For every blooming there’s a cost          

and in time’s sand a line gets crossed;

I tell you, listen and remark -

A seed discarded is not lost;

For every blooming there’s a cost.

 -Andromeda Jazmon

Please visit my Poetry Sisters' blogs and read their lovely villanelles:
Tanita S. Davis, Tricia Stohr-Hunt , Laura Purdie Salas Liz Garton Scanlon, Kelly R. Fineman, and Sara Lewis Holmes

And don't forget to visit the Friday Poetry Round up hosted by Elizabeth Steinglass.
Enjoy!