A Soul's Triumph and Waste

Short note: the following poem is in Villanelle style.

As words that infuse life into a dark place,

Poetry gave a face to the tangled mess in my mind,

As strokes on a page that probe a soul’s triumph and waste.

 

I realized its power from a young age,

As rhythms on a page that could heighten glories sublime,

And as words that infuse life into a dark place.

 

Shel Silverstein’s words made my imagination race;

Even before I was five feet tall how my mind would climb,

Through strokes on a page they probe a soul’s triumphs and waste.

 

In that strange void between childhood and the adult phase,

Poetry became a release of the confused energy kind,

And as words that infuse life into a dark place.

 

As I phase into adulthood, poetry is a case,

In which sits a mirror revealing a subconscious pried,

Strokes on a page that probe the soul’s triumph and waste.

 

In words drawn from the deep place,

can come speech from a face divine;

Words that infuse life into a dark place,

and as strokes on a page that probe a soul’s triumph and waste.

This poem is about: 
Me

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