Let go of the common to find the rare
Old structures upturned and new soil tilled
Though we may not believe we are skilled
We haven't the strength and do not dare
Sometimes we must destroy to build
So difficult to be strong willed
But inertia is too much to bear
Old structures upturned and new soil tilled
Though we breathe, the heart is stilled
We can not grow in stagnant air
Sometimes we must destroy to build
Create a place to feel fulfilled
Where one finds joy beyond compare
Old structures upturned and new soil tilled
Too many spirits silenced and killed
Find that thing for which you care
Sometimes we must destroy to build
Old structures upturned and new soil tilled.
submitted for Poetic Bloomings, In Form Poet, Villanelle
2 comments:
it is a truth that holds true in nature and our lives....life comes from death...nice spin on it...and nice form...have yet to try this one...
These words definitely echo my feelings of wanting to be creative in writ.
I used to try to emulate style of my artist heroes, their rythm, their meter, their flowery poetic convention, the strict parameters of traditional formats of poetry, prose, verse, etc., but I cecame a norm. Like a pattern on wall paper, sometimes beautiful in its own 'write' but common. I had to convince myself of deviating from this but I did when I came to the conclusion that my intent for projecting myself was not for applause but just to speak in my own words, own format, 'real' incorporated into a prose/verse format. Some may not think me attractive but I was not made in the likeness of your eyes. Do not judge me or my 'simple but real' style as a diminished skill set.
This is what I interpreted this piece to mean to me, Lolamouse, mi amiga. Gracias for letting me vent.
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