Villanelle, 7th grade

Here is a sample of our final product from the villanelle series of lessons. Some of the poems below fit into the villanelle format, others are unfinished villanelles, and still others are a different form employing certain elements of villanelle (rhyme patterns and repetition). I really felt like they took ownership of this one, and I'm very happy with the results.

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Shut Up!
Genina T.

Shut up, listen, listen to me.
He is so mad.
Shut up, I mean, I’m so sorry.

Can I please explain?
He is so sad.
Shut up, listen, listen to me.

I’m in so much pain,
so much sadness.
Shut up, I mean, I’m so sorry.

He is in more pain! Pain, pain, pain,
so much madness.
Shut up, listen, listen to me.

You don’t get it, I’m trying to explain.
No more flatterness.
Shut up, I mean, I’m so sorry.

I tried to explain.
No more loveness.
Shut up, listen, listen to me.
Shut up, I mean, I’m so sorry.


Villanelle
Charles H.

Ding dong, ding dong, won’t you come in
Don’t stand there
Come in, come in

Wipe off that grin
Won’t you come in
Ding dong, ding dong, won’t you come in

Come in, filled with adrenaline
You look so grim
Come in, come in

Take off your moccasins
You can play your violin
Ding dong, ding dong, won’t you come in

We’ll sing a song
Let’s begin
Come in, come in

I have some gelatin
Let’s eat onion skins
Ding dong, ding dong, won’t you come in,
come in, come in


Villanelle
Beatrice R.

Everything scares me in the dark blue sky.
A man dragging his feet on the creaky wooden floor.
Now there’s a good reason why I cry.

This is so strange. Why do I hear children play?
The little ghosts don’t look rich, they look poor.
Everything scares me in the dark blue sky.

I hear people up the stairs but in the day.
A boxer wanting to be stronger by punching my wall more and more.
Now there’s a good reason why I cry.


Villanelle
Myriam L.

I am one and you are too
just sitting thinking about nothing at all.
What will we do?

Staring at the sky, looking at the trees,
that’s all you can do in the fall.
I am one and you are too.

We see little kids playing with glee
and us talking about anything at all.
What will we do?

We watch little ants flee and flee.
We hear our friends call and call.
I am one and you are too.

We just want to sleep.
I hate the fall.
What will we do?

It’s so boring I want to weep.
I am one and you are too.
What will we do?


Villanelle
Braulio R.

It is the world’s darkest hour.
The ghosts are so hypnotic.
We have no more flour.

The world even has no flowers.
The horror is so exotic.
The meat is stale and sour.

People are filled with sorrow.
We are not excited.
The world will end tomorrow.

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Mrs. Bourret, Rm. 208, 7th grade

Go Skate
Abraham G.

Go skate in that beautiful summer again and again.
Babies should grave a board and learn life.
Anger, anger, try again.

Through wise kids and adults
skating is life and that’s a fact.
Go skate in that beautiful summer.

Good men don’t quit.
The rail needs a grinder.
Anger, Anger, try again.

Wild dudes who are masters
think skateboard is God.
Go skate in the beautiful summer again.


Villanelle
Martin F.

Siblings, please don’t cry.
Let’s have fun and play.
I am here to try.

Try to catch that firefly.
Let’s have a very good day.
Siblings, please do not cry.

My eyes are very dry.
I will listen to whatever you have to say.
I am here to try.

Do you guys want to fly?
We could play with the colorful clay.
Siblings, please do not cry.

All of you are very sly.
Let’s play with an imaginary death ray.
I am here to try.

It’s time to say bye.
You deserve the pay.
Siblings, please do not cry.
I am here to try.


Villanelle
Jonathan N.

Don’t speak, don’t squeak, don’t even laugh.
This castle is so evil.
My leg hurts, I think it’s my calf.

I didn’t want to be there,
the castle is medieval.
Don’t speak, don’t squeak, don’t even laugh.

I was scared of a hair.
I wanted to shrivel.
My leg hurts, I think it’s my calf.

I didn’t follow the trail.
I tried for retrieval.
Don’t speak, don’t squeak, don’t even laugh.

I didn’t take care.
The vase was primeval.
My leg hurts, I think it’s my calf.

My face was a mirror
I wanted to dishevel.
Don’t speak, don’t squeak, don’t even laugh.
My leg hurts, I think it’s my calf.

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Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade

Guitar Hero
Jesus J.

When I play Guitar Hero
I am very quick
’til I lost and got zero

I’m not a superhero
I get very ticked
when I play Guitar Hero

I’m subzero
I like to kick
’til I lost and got zero

I’m an anti-hero
I am very slick
when I play Guitar Hero

I’m a fearo
I get very ticked
’til I lost and got zero

I’m subzero
I am very quick
when I play Guitar Hero
’til I lost and got zero


To Lose
Kevin Z.

Have you ever felt to lose
It feels just like an ambush
Our streak has gone way past the deuce

Instead of a sitting duck I’m a sitting goose
The enemies’ basket as I stare all I hear is swoosh
Have you ever felt to lose

My anger, my anger, when I look at the final score, we lose by deuce deuce
We could’ve won if my boys never smoked that cush
Our streak has gone way past the deuce

Our enemies are riding victory like a caboose
Every time I play my teammates are so confused
Have you ever felt to lose

As I say again, I’m a sitting goose
I can’t stand it, I’m going through a violent rush
Our streak has gone way past the deuce

My anger, my anger, when I look at the final score: we lose by deuce deuce
I can’t stand it, I’m going through a violent rush
Have you ever felt to lose
Our streak has gone way past the deuce


Villanelle
Alejandra R.

Shading into the woods that are fading
leaving not saying a word to our fame
not knowing what to say when I am failing.

Come on, say something, don’t leave us here waiting,
shading into the woods that are fading.

Don’t, please don’t, it’s not time to fade,
not knowing what to say when I am falling.

Remember the time we used to overtrade,
shading into the woods that are fading?

When we share our things we’re missing everyday,
not knowing what to say when I am failing.

Shading into the woods that are fading,
not knowing what to say when I am failing.


Villanelle
Edgar R.

The world is a battleground of massacre.
It don’t matter what color UR, they’re all out 2 get us.
As we hear the gunshots the world gets blacker, blacker.

All the pain will go away if we believe in her.
There’s no survivors, they hated us before they even met us.
There is more violence than ever, that’s for sure.

As we hear the gunshots, the world gets blacker, blacker.
I don’t know why they make all the fuss.
I wish we could switch good n bad like it was a transfer.

When people die our hearts beat faster and faster
’cuz he didn’t wanna die they called him a wuss.
There is more violence than ever, that’s for sure.

Now the world is a blur.
They would say, Come on, little boy, don’t be a wuss.
I wish we could switch good n bad like it was a transfer.

Don’t U just wanna knock out that fake reporter?
There’s a person who killed my boy named Gus.
There is more violence than ever, that’s for sure.
I wish we could switch good n bad like it was a transfer.

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Mrs. Harris, Rm. 210, 7th grade

Peace means gun in ghetto
John A.

I feel like I got no one left.
I had an illusion then
I was full of confusion
Give me a peace.
Then we saw the police.
I had honor but I knew I was a goner.
I was a fool, I wasn’t cool,
I was cruel.

I had an illusion then I was
full of confusion.
I feel like I got no one left.
Give me what I want, the peace
then I saw the police.

I had honor but I knew
I was a goner.

I was a fool, I wasn’t
cool, I was cruel.


Unintentional Intentions
Christy Z.

I knew about your electrolyte.
But you’re so naïve, I’m too tired to try.
Naïve drags me across the room, here we are for another late night.

The conversation oh so skin deep.
But you’re so naïve, I’m too tired to try.
I knew about your electrolyte.

You wouldn’t understand with those tear-stained cheek.
But you’re so naïve, I’m too tired to try.
Naïve drags me across the room, here we are for another late night.

I’ll play with you like a deck of cards.
But you’re so naïve, I’ll win my first try.
I knew about your electrolyte.

You’re deaf, you’re blind, and you’re dumb.
But you’re so naïve, I’m too tired to try.
Naïve drags me across the floor, here we are for another late night.

You fooled me like a magician, sly and sweet.
But you’re so naïve, I tried and tried.
I knew about your electrolyte.
Naïve drags me across the room, here we are for another late night.


My Coach
Nick C.

He makes me feel like it is my fault
He releases his anger on me
but he is also my dad

He works hard to make me better
He tries to make me see
He makes me feel like it is my fault

Every time it is my fault
he yells and yells but the tells me the key
but he is also my dad

Why does he keep repeating what he has said before
He sometimes treats me like I’m three
He makes me feel like it is my fault

Why oh why does he push me so much
He is my coach with the black goatee
but he is also my dad

After he pushes me and pushes me, I am better
He is the best coach to me
He makes me feel like it is my fault
but he is my dad.

Villanelle Mania (8th grade)

Here is one first draft from the 8th graders and turned out quite well. I am very impressed with how Vanessa made use of the repetition in her poem, literally noises heard over and over again in the street.

Today the 8th graders began their villanelles, and next week we'll finish them up, so watch for more to be posted then. I know I can't wait.

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Villanelle
Vanessa D.

Boom, boom, shooting in the street.
Different gang, different blocks.
Run, run, listening to running feet.

Guys play tough, but inside they’re sweet.
Life is hard, tough like rocks.
Boom, boom, shooting in the street.

Many people try, it’s a game, we kill-n-defeat.
A lot are so scared they shiver in their socks.
Run, run, listening to running feet.

Taking cars, happy when their mission’s complete.
When li’l kids die, families are in shock.
Boom, boom, shooting in the street.

So many aren’t dead but they die in the street.
We try and run but still end up on a block.
Boom, boom, shooting in the street.
Run, run, still listening to running feet.

Yo soy un hombre sincero...

We spent some time with the first verse of "Versos Sencillos" by Jose Marti, a long, rhyming, metered poem, a manifesto of sorts--a statement of ideas, principles, and purpose--that contains a lot of vivid concrete imagery. I brought a small bag filled with slips of paper, each one with a different word (mostly nouns; like salt, paper, water, etc.). I had each student draw three words, and asked them to write the story of their life, or a story of their life, or their own manifesto. The details could be real or made up. They had to use all three words. I also asked them to write in three-line stanzas.

I had a chance to do this writing with two out of four 7th-grade classes. The results were fascinating; I can't wait to try it with the other two.


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Mrs. Jamen, Rm. 207, 7th grade


Untitled
Charles H.

I lay on my bed
with the cover overhead
I read a book that
I can’t understand

I walk down
my dark stairway
looking for candlelight,
I’m scared to death
because I can’t see a thing

I wanted in the
kitchen where I eat
a carrot
I don’t understand
why I ate a carrot

I go back up
and I go to
sleep where I
dreamt of a
carrot, candle, and a cover


Untitled
Myriam L.

I sit under a tree
with my sketchbook in my lap
thinking, imaginating, and drawing

Picking at the staple
holding my papers together
not paying attention


Untitled
Paola S.

My life is like a blank sheet,
it’s not destroyed, but not smooth
though there’s nothing there.
It’s like a rock.


Untitled
Lorybeth A.

I see grass within glass.
I tie my lace with my hands.
I use my shoe to walk to school.


Vampire Heart
Aaron B.

I have looked for
garlic on one of my
very high shelves. I ran
through the doorway and
killed the vampire with it!


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Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade


Dark Lonely
Shakeela M.

My life’s like ink on paper
splattered with emotions no one knows.
There’s a lot of things in my life that comes
and goes.
When I’m sad my life is slow.
I’m like a plate on the floor.
I have no one else.
I’m all alone all by myself.
I feel so sad inside I might need
help.
I’m like cream with cones.
Different than others.
But some people tell me I look like
my mother, and that’s a real bother.


Untitled
Lilibeth U.

I remember when I was little
I used to be a sweet as sugar.
And I used to be bossed by everyone.

But one day I felt like I was getting
used by everyone. I felt like hiding
inside a bag so everyone would leave me alone.

I could feel the salty tears running through
my face. That’s when I exploded. The girl
that used to have a heart that was as
sweet as sugar turned into a girl that
has a heart as hard as cement.


When You’re Doing Life
Kevin Z.

When you’re doing life
you feel like a book
you’re being read until you’re dead
When you’re in prison you feel
like a screen you get looked at and you
will never be seen


Untitled
Cynthia M.

Outside in the brisk fall
morning by the big oak tree
raking up the leaves in
little piles then walking away
and having to go back and
do it again.

My mother calls
me in from the cold to
eat lunch. Mmm—spaghetti and garlic
bread and a glass of chocolate
milk.

Family comes looking around.
I’m nowhere to be found.
I’m on the roof to relax
looking at the stars.


My Life
Cyntha S.

The mother watches us
grow just like
we do when we’re growing a
tree.

Onions’ mothers don’t like them
because they make them cry, just
like me.

Glass is see-through sometimes.
I wish that I could see
through my life.


Life
Susy G.

Feeling like a curtain
is wrapped around me
not able to move

The river going
fast and faster like you can’t
run fast like the way your life goes!

The way your blood
goes fast through your
body!