Villanelle № 114165
Kaleidoscopic (Re-Edit)
The planet turns like a kaleidoscope.
The old, reshaped, seems intimately new.
What really changes, though? Is how we cope
with the days that asassinate the hope
of years, unlike the way we always knew
the planet turned? Like a kaleidoscope
with old components, as you brush or soap,
the mirror shows each day a different you.
What really changes, though, is how. We cope
with stranger friends who blow us off with âNope,
Iâve plansâ by wishing time could stop on cue.
Still the planet turns like a kaleidoscope,
turns -and the stars turn their black horoscope
round any whoâd observe it. But whatâs true
wonât really change. Itâs only how we cope
That, like a pendulum rolled down a slope,
Can weigh and weigh on what we dare and do.
The planet turns like a kaleidoscope.
What really changes, though, is how we cope.
6 comments
With that said, I will now edit my poem
with old components, as you brush or soap,
with stranger friends who blow us off with âNope,
- I can't say what's wrong with them exactly, except the first one should probably not have a "brush or" and the second is simply too run-on to end with Nope.
I can't remember how it was before. I thought maybe better?
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