Not Quite Right
Villanelle Poem
UPDATE: This is not a Villanelle, as you will swiftly realise. It took me some research to understand the correct structure...
They see this world is not quite right
It is bruised and broken and filled with grey-tinged ash
Billowing and building until the days shift into night
They say this world is not quite right
Blaming devils and women and fruit from Edens’ stash
A story from a storybook, written to illicit fright
They warn this world is not quite right
It's growing warm, and crowded and so full of trash
Humanity the birthplace of its very own plight
They beg this world is not quite right
Taking blade to limb to slash and slash
The leaves of a tree spreading its blight
They cry this world is not quite right
Our planet is a vehicle, we’re certain will crash
Too late, they whimper, too late to fight
They know, this world is not quite right
We did this, eyes open, straight forward we dash
We burn and blister and crumble in our light
Yet choose to go willingly, into that poisoned night.
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A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli7 days ago in Poets
Comments (3)
Great job
Awww, what a wonderful! I loved it!
This is so confronting and haunting I love it!!