A Memory of Tomorrow - A villanelle

stuartcturnbull in Blockchain Poets • 10 months ago

Bourbon starts the day with many regrets.
Stale smells of bacon from the warming plate,
A memory of breasts. Truth, not a jest.

Drowning in comfort from cake I confess,
It’s easy to dream what I think I’ll break.
Bourbon starts the day with many regrets.

Calling to mind each and every excess,
the bacon, bourbon, boobs, coffee, and cake.
A memory of breasts. Truth, not a jest.

Woven together, a small arabesque,
randomly chosen by those who partake
Bourbon starts the day with many regrets.

Recalling whiskeys taken as a guest
requires coffee supplied in endless crates
A memory of breasts. Truth, not a jest.

When stimulants come to their conclusion
your left with forgetting. An illusion.
Bourbon starts the day with many regrets.
A memory of breasts. Truth, not a jest.

text by stuartcturnbull, picture by Hans via Pixabay

#blockchainpoets #villanelle #hiveengine #archon #proofofbrain #pimp #vyb #poem #poetry #writing

10 months ago in Blockchain Poets by stuartcturnbull

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rinconpoetico7 10 months ago

A memory imprisoned by a headache and mental blackouts that invade the blank spaces left by alcohol and excesses. Repentance? Haha...

Thanks for sharing.
Good day.

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1 vote

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riverflows 9 months ago

I love how this loops and loops - it mimics circular, repetitive thinking of someone who's had too many bourbons! I do wonder whose breasts they were...

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1 vote

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stuartcturnbull 9 months ago

thank you - yes the way a villanelle repeats is one of the things I like about it. and as for the query - well that would be telling 😁

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riverflows 9 months ago

I wasn't familiar with a villanelle but after a quick Google I can see famous examples... Now I want to experiment with this form but am not sure I can pull it off as well as this bourbon soaked reverie!!

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1 vote

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stuartcturnbull 9 months ago

Your villanelles will be uniquely yours and like any new thing, they get better with practice.

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riverflows 9 months ago

I made the mistake of re reading Plath's Mad Girl's Love Song again (I knew the poem once but paid little attention to the structure back then) and am intimidated into blank page itis. It'll stew for a while and I'll let you know when I'm brave enough to have tried it.

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1 vote

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stuartcturnbull 9 months ago

Please do!

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grindan 10 months ago

This is a great still frame of how partying can lock people into loops. You've left the pungent smell of bacon cooked in a time perhaps unremembered lingering with the image of an isolated body part. A spiral which can only be washed away with another shot of whiskey...

I really enjoyed how raw this was!

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1 vote

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stuartcturnbull 10 months ago

Thank you

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hive-161465 10 months ago

You've received an upvote from the Blockchain Poets account. Thank you for submitting your poem to our community!

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