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Thread: Yet Still They Count Their Sheep (villanelle)

  1. #1

    Yet Still They Count Their Sheep (villanelle)

    I haunt the tossing dreamers, their dreams are mine to keep.
    I revel in their nightmares—the ones they never tell.
    They know I'm always waiting, yet still they count their sheep.

    I own the hours of darkness—the hours they are asleep.
    Whenever they are dreaming, they fall within my spell.
    I haunt the tossing dreamers, their dreams are mine to keep.

    My reach extends forever—my powers vast and deep.
    The seeds are being planted—their fear begins to swell
    They know I'm always waiting, yet still they count their sheep.

    The flowers of their terror are what my scythe shall reap.
    The blade incises deeper where inner terrors dwell.
    I haunt the tossing dreamers, their dreams are mine to keep.

    They cannot cry for mercy nor make even a peep—
    not that they'd find my presence so easy to dispel.
    They know I'm always waiting, yet still they count their sheep.

    My tortures are exquisite—enough to make them weep.
    I am their dark reflection, they know this all too well.
    I haunt the tossing dreamers, their dreams are mine to keep.
    They know I'm always waiting, yet still they count their sheep.
    Last edited by astroannie; May 23rd, 2017 at 05:44 AM. Reason: sas suggested some tweakage

  2. #2
    This checked off every box in my mental poem wish list...OOOoo, forget fabulous, this went straight to sublime... dark, moody, with a portent of doom... the refraining line is perfect, like a bell tolling, proclaiming disaster.... annie! you are full of delicious surprises.... I am blown away! Your skills as a wordsmith are clearly showcased in the lines of this poem... " The flowers of their terror--that's what my scythe will reap" ..... mumm hummm....
    If you are a writer, reach a reader
    If you are a fighter, teach a leader
    If you are a lover, touch a leper
    If this has helped you, thank you, reader

    If you can read this, teach a thinker

    Author: Lynn Loschky



    Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,
    love leaves a memory no one can steal....
    Author unknown.

  3. #3
    WF Veteran Bloggsworth's Avatar
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    A man in possession of a wooden spoon must be in want of a pot to stir.

  4. #4
    Very nice astro. One of my favorites by you yet.
    Carpe Diem.

  5. #5
    So impressive. I cannot do these well and have given up. I think they take much discipline and perhaps a mathematical brain. I know you are a musician and both are related. Applause on your work.

    Of course, I always look to see what I might suggest. Often it's a brain exercise for me, more than help to another. Anyway, this is how I might have seen a different line construction:

    I own the hours of darkness—the hours that they sleep.

    The flowers of their terror—are what my scythe shall reap.

    On following, I was trying to eliminate adverb and felt "into" was correct word. Hmmm.

    The blade incises deeper into places nightmares dwell.


    Maybe someday I can write these. Hope so, and hope I was a little bit helpful. sas

  6. #6
    Moody and deliciously smooth. Well done!

    New to poetry? Try The Purple Pip Challenge.

    My Poems

    Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much. Oscar Wilde

  7. #7
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    Quote Originally Posted by astroannie View Post
    They know I'm always waiting, yet still they count their sheep.

    I am their dark reflection, they know this all too well.
    numbers.
    they're everywhere.

  8. #8
    Today is one of my busier days -- will probably look at this Monday and tweak on it. Thanks all for the kinds words and the Like​s.

  9. #9

  10. #10
    Quote Originally Posted by sas View Post
    So impressive. I cannot do these well and have given up. I think they take much discipline and perhaps a mathematical brain. I know you are a musician and both are related. Applause on your work.

    Of course, I always look to see what I might suggest. Often it's a brain exercise for me, more than help to another. Anyway, this is how I might have seen a different line construction:

    I own the hours of darkness—the hours that they sleep.

    cadence

    The flowers of their terror—are what my scythe shall reap.

    On following, I was trying to eliminate adverb and felt "into" was correct word. Hmmm.

    The blade incises deeper into places nightmares dwell.
    Changed it differently.
    Maybe someday I can write these. Hope so, and hope I was a little bit helpful. sas
    They are like music in many ways... cadence and rhyme. Thank you much.

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