If I had nothing to worry about except this blog, I could say a whole lot more and post at reasonable times of the day. Oh well, I'll take what I can get. This poem is a villanelle, a fancy french term for the rhyme scheme and repeating lines throughout the poem. It was written for a poetry competition I was in once upon a time. I like how it turned out; actually I was surprised how well it turned out.
Wings of Glory
Love flies on the purest wings of glory.
Gentle in its nature; flawless in its
form.
The great adventure of the human story.
Those who pursue are terrified by folly;
Believing foolish pitfalls are the norm.
Love flies on the purest wings of glory.
Brighter than a wind flung winter
flurry;
Stronger than a lighthouse in a storm.
The great adventure of the human story.
A fruit desirable to make one happy;
A dark and cankered soul it can
transform;
Love flies on the purest wings of glory.
Truthfully it is a sweeping journey;
When taken, imperfections will reform;
The great adventure of the human story.
As long as I may be allowed to tarry,
I’ll love the one who with me will
affirm;
Love flies on the purest wings of glory;
The great adventure of the human story.
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