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Submitted on
November 7, 2012
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816 bytes
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He sings of things that were and are,
Sitting in his office chair,
A man and his guitar.

And though his mind meanders far,
The chords contain his every care,
He sings of things that were and are.

Those calluses, like hard-earned scars,
Speak temperance and not despair,
A man and his guitar.

Now syncopate, now by the bar,
Now dissonant, now fair and fair,
He sings of things that were and are.

I caught his music in a jar,
A leaky one. I stop and stare:
A man and his guitar.

A glow too cool to even char,
A brief but distant signal flare,
He sings of things that were and are,
A man and his guitar.
Inspired by my roommate Alan. He practices guitar every day, so I decided to sort through my thoughts as I listen to his playing. I realized these thoughts would fit a villanelle perfectly. One of my favorite forms for good reason.

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:iconariademezzocarattere:
AriadeMezzoCarattere Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
This reminds me a lot of my dad. Very nice form... such lovely flow and feel.
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:iconrlkirkland:
rlkirkland Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
This is a form that must fit its subject well.
Nicely crafted.
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