Erotic Villanelle Challenge

[The_Fool]

A quick question O Vanilla Guru. My Forms dictionary states that lines may be any length. ShyErraticTable talks of iambic pentameter. I'd like a clarification before I embark on any regrets.

Iambic Pentameter is not a hard requirement. Sorry, not Ange, but I bet I have both better whiskey and whisky than she does. Poison of choice lately has been Bushmill's Black Bush....

 

[ShyErraticTable]

I am vanilla, though just a table and, thus, no guru. Turco, in The Book of Forms states "Every line is the same metrical length," and in addition to quoting "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night," which is in iambic pentameter, quotes an E. A. Robinson poem that is in iambic trimeter. He tends to be very strict, however, and does not indicate the lines should be in iambic feet.

Interpret that however you may.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

What did the table just say?

 

[LadynStFreknBed]

What did the table just say?

Why do I often feel like we are at an unbirthday party in Wonderland?

Unbirthday Party

 

[ShyErraticTable]

What did the table just say?

Table apologizes for its wooden use of language.

What it meant to say was something like: Some people (Turco) say that all lines in a villanelle should have the same metrical length. "Metrical length" is a concept that is subject to debate.

Other authorities and poets have ignored this requirement. Feel free to do so as well.

The rhyme and repeated lines are the signature of the villanelle. Table is being somewhat immovable by lobbying for a metrical requirement as well.

And, as everyone knows, an immovable table always ends up as garbage. Throw a tablecloth over it. That mutes it like a parakeet.

 

[Angeline]

A sip, a momentary pause, a smile,
a greeting murmured into afternoon.
Their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style

A sip, a momentary pause, a smile,
a greeting murmured into afternoon.
Their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style

and all the while their eyes are speaking. Soon

A quick question O Vanilla Guru. My Forms dictionary states that lines may be any length. ShyErraticTable talks of iambic pentameter. I'd like a clarification before I embark on any regrets.

I tried for it in my lines. My understanding, too, is that the form isn't always written in iambic pentameter. What form is now? But I do think iambic pentameter is the holy grail of all Western form poems.

 

[ShyErraticTable]

A sip, a momentary pause, a smile,
a greeting murmured into afternoon.
Their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style

and all the while their eyes are speaking. Soon.

Oops. Terzanelle moment.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Table apologizes for its wooden use of language.

What it meant to say was something like: Some people (Turco) say that all lines in a villanelle should have the same metrical length. "Metrical length" is a concept that is subject to debate.

Other authorities and poets have ignored this requirement. Feel free to do so as well.

The rhyme and repeated lines are the signature of the villanelle. Table is being somewhat immovable by lobbying for a metrical requirement as well.

And, as everyone knows, an immovable table always ends up as garbage. Throw a tablecloth over it. That mutes it like a parakeet.

*presents gift of a table lamp for adornment*

 

[LadynStFreknBed]

Oops. Terzanelle moment.

LOL

Good catch, Table! Way to be supportive!

See! Villanelles are so much fun!

 

[Angeline]

Oops. Terzanelle moment.

Senor Table?

 

[ShyErraticTable]

*presents gift of a table lamp for adornment*

Othanks&OK. Let's switch it on and shine a light over some adornèd table.

 

[ShyErraticTable]

Senor Table?

Yes'm?

Let it anticipate. You are writing line five and leaving Fool to twist in the metaphoric wind trying to come up with line four.

It approves. Carry on.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Incubus in Tetrameter

The trumpet of her grotto calls
a Gabriel of dark design,
invoking him to storm her walls.

Her incantation rises squalls
of dancing shade in rising sign.
The trumpet of her grotto calls

again until the demon crawls
to answer on the private line
invoking him to storm her walls.

A tempest swells within his balls
to feed what from his forking spine
the trumpet of her grotto calls.

He grows and ruts within her halls,
impaling her upon his tine.
Invoking him to storm her walls,

her trumpet yet again recalls
the fallen angel's lava brine.
The trumpet of her grotto calls,
invoking him to storm her walls.

 

[The_Fool]

A sip, a momentary pause, a smile,
a greeting murmured into afternoon.
Their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style

and all the while their eyes are speaking. Soon





I tried for it in my lines. My understanding, too, is that the form isn't always written in iambic pentameter. What form is now? But I do think iambic pentameter is the holy grail of all Western form poems.

Ange, baby, ya screwed up the rhyme scheme. Should have come back with an A line, not a B line. Now I'm all flustered.....

 

[Angeline]

Ange, baby, ya screwed up the rhyme scheme. Should have come back with an A line, not a B line. Now I'm all flustered.....

Oh? Sorry, I guess SET was trying to tell me that. Well, that's what I get for tossing out the line whilst talking to d-maas on Yahoo and cooking dinner.

Hmmmm. How about:

And all too soon their eyes are speaking. While

That should fix it.

 

[The_Fool]

Oh? Sorry, I guess SET was trying to tell me that. Well, that's what I get for tossing out the line whilst talking to d-maas on Yahoo and cooking dinner.

Hmmmm. How about:

And all too soon their eyes are speaking. While

That should fix it.

A sip, a momentary pause, a smile,
a greeting murmured into afternoon.
Their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style

And all too soon their eyes are speaking. While
the caress of fingers is a silent tune;
a sip, a momentary pause, a smile.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Teach how to love and simplify
Each artful touch caress my soul
Awakened thus to an ecstatic cry

Though I have yet a virgins sigh
Let feelings now my body instruct
Teach how to love and simplify

Each moment that I by you lie
Awaiting sensual pleasures fire
Awakened thus to an ecstatic cry

Beyond this hand upon my thigh
Reach deeper still and open wide
Teach how to love and simplify

I cannot now but love you by
Moon and stars that for me shine
Awakened thus to an ecstatic cry

Entranced and bold no longer shy
Bodies entwined upon this day
Teach how to love and simplify
Awakened thus to an ecstatic cry

 

[Angeline]

A sip, a momentary pause, a smile,
a greeting murmured into afternoon.
Their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style

And all too soon their eyes are speaking. While
the caress of fingers is a silent tune;
a sip, a momentary pause, a smile.

A sip, a momentary pause, a smile,
a greeting murmured into afternoon.
Their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style

and all too soon their eyes are speaking. While
the caress of fingers is a silent tune;
a sip, a momentary pause, a smile,

hair fanned dark across his chest, no guile



(Sorry for the wait--we had a power outtage this morning. Still dunno why, but glad I'm connected to the world again!)

 

[The_Fool]

A sip, a momentary pause, a smile,
a greeting murmured into afternoon.
Their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style

and all too soon their eyes are speaking. While
the caress of fingers is a silent tune;
a sip, a momentary pause, a smile,

hair fanned dark across his chest, no guile



(Sorry for the wait--we had a power outtage this morning. Still dunno why, but glad I'm connected to the world again!)

A sip, a momentary pause, a smile,
a greeting murmured into afternoon.
Their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style

and all too soon their eyes are speaking. While
the caress of fingers is a silent tune;
a sip, a momentary pause, a smile,

hair fanned dark across his chest, no guile
in decadent distraction, and so soon
their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style.

 

[The_Fool]

I hate it when day job intrudes.

 

[darkmaas]

I hate it when day job intrudes.

So you mean I've legged it over here expecting a nice dollop of "Bushmill's Black Bush" and you are working?

 

[Angeline]

A sip, a momentary pause, a smile,
a greeting murmured into afternoon.
Their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style

and all too soon their eyes are speaking. While
the caress of fingers is a silent tune;
a sip, a momentary pause, a smile,

hair fanned dark across his chest, no guile
in decadent distraction, and so soon
their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style.

A sip, a momentary pause, a smile,
a greeting murmured into afternoon.
Their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style

and without words their eyes are speaking while
the caress of fingers is a silent tune:
a sip, a momentary pause, a smile,

hair fanned dark across his chest, no guile
in decadent distraction, and so soon
their sense of sinful pleasure worn with style

that strains each whisper to a cry, tensile

I hate it when day job intrudes.

Take your time, love. I'm not going anywhere. Thanks, too, for additing the repeated lines. Ok, what ryhmes that I haven't used yet? Lol.

 

[The_Fool]

So you mean I've legged it over here expecting a nice dollop of "Bushmill's Black Bush" and you are working?

Not a problem, I am working from home.

 

[darkmaas]

Thank-you champs, Fool and strange-table-thing for your comments. If I have read them correctly, it seems there are no hard rules but custom restrains me. I feel a regret circling ... <checking feet for iambs but finding only toes ... but at least ten of them>

 

[Angeline]

So you mean I've legged it over here expecting a nice dollop of "Bushmill's Black Bush" and you are working?

It's so unlike you not to have your own supply.