Some Villanelles Which Double as Songs
written by: Jim Bellamy
O, once upon a mind in a dinner-strangled sea,
Where pans clatter in the deep and the starving dare to dream,
The rich feast on echoes of silent pleas.
In the cruel ballet of the haves and have-nots, we see
The absurd dance of fortune’s cruel extreme,
O, once upon a mind in a dinner-strangled sea.
The banquet hall roars with gilded glee,
While outside, hollow eyes of the hungry gleam,
The rich feast on echoes of silent pleas.
“Feed us,” cry the poor, “from tyranny free,”
But the wealthy’s ears are stuffed with the cream,
O, once upon a mind in a dinner-strangled sea.
The tables turn, yet no one flees,
The starving serve, their spirits teem,
The rich feast on echoes of silent pleas.
So dare the starving feed the rich? A twisted decree,
In this dark, absurdist, cruel scheme,
O, once upon a mind in a dinner-strangled sea,
The rich feast on echoes of silent pleas.
***
O, when me and my dead lover come glowering from mirrors,
In the hush of night, our whispers dance in a spectral swell,
Perhaps a keen dream will make us well.
Through the glass, our silent ballet conjures fears,
Yet in this madcap song, our hearts rebel,
O, when me and my dead lover come glowering from mirrors.
The world sleeps, but in our realm, time nears,
To the rhythm of eternity, our souls compel,
Perhaps a keen dream will make us well.
In the silvered pane, the past appears,
And we waltz in the moon’s soft pastel,
O, when me and my dead lover come glowering from mirrors.
With every gaze, the boundary clears,
In dreams, the living and the lost meld,
Perhaps a keen dream will make us well.
So let the morning wait, as dawn nears,
For in this mirror’s depth, our love we’ll tell,
O, when me and my dead lover come glowering from mirrors,
Perhaps a keen dream will make us well.
***
Do not go aside the dark till death dawns on madmen,
Where shadows weave the tales of silent might.
Hold fast to dreams, where day’s bright beams are spavine.
The gentle hum of life, a soft-spun cadence,
Whispers through the void, a beacon’s light.
Do not go aside the dark till death dawns on madmen.
In twilight’s grasp, where thoughts of lore are laden,
Seek not the comfort of the fleeing night.
Hold fast to dreams, where day’s bright beams are spavine.
Through tempest’s roar and peace the heart does harden,
Stand firm against the tide, with all your might.
Do not go aside the dark till death dawns on madmen.
With every dusk, let not your spirit sadden,
For morrow’s morn will chase the starless plight.
Hold fast to dreams, where day’s bright beams are spavine.
So here, my friend, as fates and time do bargain,
Embrace the dusk, till dawn’s forgiving light.
Do not go aside the dark till death dawns on madmen,
Hold fast to dreams, where day’s bright beams are spavine.
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