Revision 3
The lines would shiver as they grew;
this dark slate world sublime,
because the things I draw come true.
There was a girl I drew
with hands of silk within our mime.
The lines shivered and grew,
dropped the chalk, too soon withdrew—
no ladder left to climb,
because the things I draw come true.
I made one, she made two:
a village rose up from our grime.
The lines shivered and grew
to serve a god with worship due.
Amidst chants, the bells chime
because the things I draw come true.
On this slate, I start anew,
erase the details of my crime.
The lines would shiver when they grew,
the things I draw come true.
~~~
Edit: Still has issues fitting the 4-3-4-3 with the villanelle in a way I'm happy with, but it feels closer to my intent now.
Revision 2
The lines would shiver as they grew;
this dark slate world sublime,
because the things I draw come true.
One time, I sketched a girl I knew
with hands of silken mime.
The lines would shiver as they grew.
Passion spent, I withdrew.
There was no ladder left to climb.
The things I draw come true.
I began one, then she drew two:
a people touched by grime.
The lines would shiver as they grew
prostrate now, worship due
amidst the chants, the bells that chime.
The things I draw come true.
So, on this slate, I start anew
erasing details of my crime.
The lines would shiver when they grew,
the things I draw come true.
~~~
Edit: I tried to smooth out the meter per milo's advice. I had to mess with the second refrain of the villanelle, and the fourth line to make it work. I'm not sure if it does.
Revision
The lines would shiver as they grew.
The sky so cold, the world sublime
the things I draw come true.
One time, I sketched a girl I knew
with hands of silken mime
The lines would shiver as they grew
a whisper of heat withdrew.
There was no ladder left to climb
the things I draw come true.
I began one, then she drew two:
a people touched by grime.
The lines would shiver as they grew
prostrate my worship due
amidst the chants, the bells that chime.
The things I draw come true.
So, on this slate, I start anew
erase the past; my crime.
The lines would shiver when they grew,
the things I draw come true.
~~~
This is a revision from an earlier thread here
I got great advice from a number of people, but owe a debt to milo to even get this far. I don't think its done yet so I'm reposting.
The lines would shiver as they grew;
this dark slate world sublime,
because the things I draw come true.
There was a girl I drew
with hands of silk within our mime.
The lines shivered and grew,
dropped the chalk, too soon withdrew—
no ladder left to climb,
because the things I draw come true.
I made one, she made two:
a village rose up from our grime.
The lines shivered and grew
to serve a god with worship due.
Amidst chants, the bells chime
because the things I draw come true.
On this slate, I start anew,
erase the details of my crime.
The lines would shiver when they grew,
the things I draw come true.
~~~
Edit: Still has issues fitting the 4-3-4-3 with the villanelle in a way I'm happy with, but it feels closer to my intent now.
Revision 2
The lines would shiver as they grew;
this dark slate world sublime,
because the things I draw come true.
One time, I sketched a girl I knew
with hands of silken mime.
The lines would shiver as they grew.
Passion spent, I withdrew.
There was no ladder left to climb.
The things I draw come true.
I began one, then she drew two:
a people touched by grime.
The lines would shiver as they grew
prostrate now, worship due
amidst the chants, the bells that chime.
The things I draw come true.
So, on this slate, I start anew
erasing details of my crime.
The lines would shiver when they grew,
the things I draw come true.
~~~
Edit: I tried to smooth out the meter per milo's advice. I had to mess with the second refrain of the villanelle, and the fourth line to make it work. I'm not sure if it does.
Revision
The lines would shiver as they grew.
The sky so cold, the world sublime
the things I draw come true.
One time, I sketched a girl I knew
with hands of silken mime
The lines would shiver as they grew
a whisper of heat withdrew.
There was no ladder left to climb
the things I draw come true.
I began one, then she drew two:
a people touched by grime.
The lines would shiver as they grew
prostrate my worship due
amidst the chants, the bells that chime.
The things I draw come true.
So, on this slate, I start anew
erase the past; my crime.
The lines would shiver when they grew,
the things I draw come true.
~~~
This is a revision from an earlier thread here
I got great advice from a number of people, but owe a debt to milo to even get this far. I don't think its done yet so I'm reposting.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson