Villanelles

see also work by Sherman Alexie



Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do no go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



One Art

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day.  Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel.  None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch.  And look!  my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones.  And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied.  It’s evident

the art of losing’s not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

—Elizabeth Bishop



Women in Love

It always comes, and when it comes they know.
To will it is enough to take them there.

The knack is this, to fasten and not let go.

Their limbs are charmed; they cannot stay or go.
Desire is limbo--they're unhappy there.

It always comes, and when it comes they know.

Their choice of hells would be the one they know.
Dante describes it, the wind circling there.

The knack is this, to fasten and not let go.

The wind carries them where they want to go.
and that seems cruel to strangers passing there.

It always comes, and when it comes they know.

The knack is this, to fasten and not let go.

—Donald Justice



The More You Have to Lose

Time flies, and a year can go by in a day.
Look at your watch.  Do your eyes say 2:45 or 9:15?

The more you have, the more you can give away.

You know the feeling, having no money, having to stay
With relatives when you travel, unable to say what you mean:

Time lies, and a year can go by in a day.

When my father turned into my son, as in a play,
All the fun took place offstage.  What about the missing queen?

The more you have, the more you can give away.

The less you believe.  The more you wish you could pray.
Like a clock without hands, the truth of a face remains unseen.

Time lies, and a year can go by in a day.

With an elbow on the counter, and no passions left to sway,
The all-night waitress smokes butt after butt, coughing in-between:

The more you have, the more you can throw away.

Ocean, what is on the other side of all that blue and gray?
What does the grass know of yesterday's vanished green?

Time lies, and a year can go by in a day.

The more you have, the more you can give away.

—David Lehman



First Offense

I'm sorry, officer, I didn't see the sign
Because, in fact, there wasn't any.  I tell you

The light was green.  How much is the fine?

Will the tumor turn out malignant or benign?
Will the doctor tell us?  He said he knew.

I'm sorry, officer, I didn't see the sign.

Not every madman is an agent of the divine.
Not all who pass are allowed to come through.

The light was green.  How much is the fine?

Which is worse, the rush or the wait?  The line
Interminable, or fear of coming fate?  His anxiety grew.

I'm sorry, officer.  I didn't see the sign.

I'm cold sober.  All I had was one glass of wine.
Was anyone hurt?  Is there anything I can do?

The light was green.  How much is the fine?

Will we make our excuses like so many clever lines,
Awkwardly delivered?  Never to win, always to woo?

I'm sorry, officer.  I didn't see the sign.

The light was green.  How much is the fine?

—David Lehman





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