And they still don’t go

Oh, startled shudder, worms and worries
with ash and soil and raging hair
I put my trust in winter’s flurries

In raging moon my eyesight blurry
for milky shadows, winded stare
startled shudders, worms and worries

when you’re dying what’s the hurry
to grasp, inhaling acid air
and put your trust in winter’s flurries.

Night was dark and I could bury
the letters marked with tattooed tears
With startled shudder, worms and worries

hear the rodent’s claws that scurry
across my chest and for your ears
let’s put the trust in winter’s flurries

Eyes are green, your hands are furry
please let me wake release the fears
from startled shudder, worms and worries
I lost my trust in winter’s flurries

And they still won't go by Francisco Goya

And they still won’t go by Francisco Goya

A little crazy Villanelle. Just for fun.

June 29, 2015

21 responses to “And they still don’t go

  1. This quickly descended into nightmare, Bjorn! I always love a villanelle well-executed.

  2. Really very effective at bringing the grue here Bjorn–I love a good villanelle, and your word choice and twists on the phrasing make this one superb. I especially love(and am creeped out by) the fifth and sixth stanzas.

  3. A fun read, Bjorn. Weren’t there rats in Poe’s The Pit and The Pendulum?
    When I was in the Army pulling missile radar site guard duty we could sleep while the operational personnel were finished and departed. Normally they were off from about five until eight the next morning. From my sleep I would awaken to big rats crawling up and down the 2 X 4 bracing fore the walls. I never knew of any crawling on me. For sure they didn’t ever bite me.
    I tried to envision the “tattooed tears” but couldn’t. DNA tattooed? Anyway I had the meaning.

  4. Worms and worries says it all. Somehow I felt like I was being buried alive!

  5. A really cool villanelle. It is so in a league of its own, it ought to have a cult following. By deliberately over-emphasizing certain elements you’ve brilliantly created an extraordinary (and ghoulish) satirical milieu … “when you’re dying what’s the hurry” – very camp.

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