A Villanelle- That Poem From Hell A villanelle- that poem from hell, You cross the river Styx to go there. It’s where, I swear, mad poets dwell- Obsessed, distressed, diseased, unwell With frightened look and ghastly stare. A villanelle- that poem from hell Repeating like a tolling bell- This ghoulish verse and putrid prayer From where, I swear, mad poets dwell. No medicine can ever quell The mania, desire to share A villanelle- that poem from hell That torments readers with its spell So festered, foul it may ensnare. It’s where, I swear, mad poets dwell. It’s Hades’ lair. Avoid. Forswear! Stop reader. Halt! Read no more here. A villanelle- that poem from hell, It’s where, I swear, mad poets dwell.
Douglass Allen has not quite, despite many rejections, been cured of that contemporary poetic virus of writing rhymed poetry. He even has found a dozen or so journals that have published his verse. He enjoys the challenge of sonnets and formal poetry, the kind he loved as a kid and even taught a few times in high school classes.
Grand Little Things 