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Nightfall (Villanelle) by Niphredil I lie beneath a darkling cedar tree
The branches swaying slowly to and fro
As weather-worn caresses sigh to me.
The gray-cloaked sky is all that I can see,
Sketching shadow contours with a pale glow.
I lie beneath a darkling cedar tree.
And now that it is late and I am free,
I cannot bring myself to turn and go
Yet weather-worn caresses sigh to me.
My thoughts float up from darkness silently
And all of time does not suffice; although
I lie beneath a darkling cedar tree.
The day grows dimmer; daylight turns to flee,
And in its wake fall silent wisps of snow
As weather-worn caresses sigh to me.
No prayers left to say; no ardent plea,
Necessity had faded long ago.
So soft beneath a snowy cedar tree
As weather-worn caresses sigh to me.
Up the ladder:
Ctrl freak (Alt+ version)
Down the ladder:
The Bed
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 8.111111
Posted: January 1, 2006 2:06 AM PST; Last modified: January 1, 2006 2:06 AM PSTWeighted score: 6.5555553 Overall Rank: 637 The following users have marked this poem on their favorites list:
Comments:
[10]
deleted user @ 204.97.18.217
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1-Jan-06/3:24 AM
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Reply
Nicely done. You are an extremely talented writer and it's a pleasure read your work.
"Darkling" means "in the dark." So how can the day grow dimmer when it's already dark? Also, if the cedar tree is snowy, and it's branches sway in the breeze, why is there no mention of snow falling in the face of someone lying under it?
It flows well, but I can't get past illogic.
The idea was of someone lying beneath a cedar tree, looking up; what they would see is a dark web of branches, framed by lighter foggy sky. Hence, the cedar tree is 'darkling', from that person's point of view. Nightfall would darken those gaps of foggy sky, rendering the landscape entirely black.
Besides, it doesn't even start snowing till the stanza before last! The 'softness' in the last stanza is meant to convey the image that the narrator is covered in snow. I'm afraid my logic still holds... in addition to the fact that I don't *have* to describe snow falling on somebody's face. :-)
What are you? 100% Vulcan? If every poem were perfectly logical, would they be poems anymore? I think not. They would be Wapiti.
Either you've been spending too much time discussing certain things with a certain group or you need a heavy dose of Uhura.
I presume you mean uhuru, freedom, an African word. Yes I could use more of that. With his explanation it makes more sense, but without it, I am still lying under a swaying cedar tree with snow on its branches, in the dark, in the daytime, unaffected by falling snow.
Um, no. While I'm sure we could all use a little more uhurU, I'm talking about a Star Trek thing. Obviously you don't understand. I think you're being hyper-logical about the poem. Oh well.
Oh well.
...With *HER* explanation. :-) I am woman, hear me roar.
In any case, I really think you're nitpicking. This was the kind of cedar tree I envisioned in the poem, which is quite large enough for darkness, snow-protection and whatever. http://www.gutenberg.org/files/13011/130 I'd like to remind you that it's also twilight on a foggy day, which is really quite dark; the poem deals with the transition from black shadows against gray to entire darkness. I think, however, that you misunderstand the general idea of the poem. It is meant to be told from the point of view of someone who has been dead for some time, and is now lying - perhaps in a grave? - beneath a cedar tree. Perhaps re-reading will clarify.
We have many trees in my neighborhood that have dark bark on them and they are still very dark in full daylight. I like the way the tree starts slightly ominous and becomes "friendly" by the end. Villanelles are a mother to do. I've only tried twice. Thus far.
INTRANSIT: Find me a well-known illogical poem.
Kerouac comes to mind.
Oh, him. The point was supposed to be that most good poems are logical, but, Touche.
Though I think (well-known) are the key words here. I'm sure one exists though I may not be able to find it as I'm not near as well read as others. What used to not make sense to me in my Kerouac , now does. But.
Nothing's wrong Something's right W.C, fields bathrobe Kerouac that makes no sense to me. Funny though.
I was trying to keep you from giving a poemranker post for an answer. Kerouac seems perfectly logical to me, mostly because reporting stream-of-consciousness is a perfectly logical thing to do, and that's obviously what Kerouac's doing. Yes, something like your quote above (or this one: "The taste / of rain / âWhy kneel?") makes loose, unlogical "conclusions". But compare that with Niphredil's poem here and you can see how Kerouac gets away with it and Niphredil doesn't.
And anyway, a great way to get around having to be logical in poetry is to say 'I'm a Beat Poet' three times, then spin around and vanish.
Well, what exactly is the illogic in Nephs poem. the word darkling? Perhaps it's the pale glow in s-2 that leads us awry? I personally see no problem here.
Oh, actually nothing. I didn't remember reading it and just kind of assumed it had some. Sorry, Niphredil. This is a great poem. I don't know what Dovina's problem is.
*curtseys*
> "Darkling" means "in the dark."
No it doesn't.
My dic. says that it also means: Dark;dim. I'm guessing She went with darkling for flow/beat reasons.
Pretty much for flow, yes... I guess I can find something different if the word is overly problematic.
It's not for me. though it does cause me to have snickerous thoughts about -=Dark-Angel=-.
Mu-ha-ha. cute!
The most famous use of "darkling" is the line "we are here as on a darkling plain", in Matthew Arnold's Dover Beach. If darkling really only meant "in the dark", you should be able to substitute "in the dark" for darkling in Arnold's poem...
We are here as on a in the dark plain. CONCLUSIONS: darkling also means "darkish; in the process of darkening".
This is a fantastic villanelle, very well-written and extremely vivid. The only thing I would change is removing one of the 'ands' in line 7, maybe changing it to something like 'Now that it has grown late and I am free...' (a bit clumsy-sounding actually, but you get the picture).
'Weather-worn caresses'? Beautiful.
Beautiful. "And now that it is late and I am free, I cannot bring myself to turn and go . . ."
I think this is well written and I especially like the last lines of each stanza, esp. the repetitions.
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