Fringes on the Crimson Tree

By lupus tenebrae

The rules of paper, turning leaves,
are wider and a little blurred,
with crimson fringes on their sleeves,

wearing hearts, would you believe,
and captioning my every word?
The rules of paper, turning leaves

to stanzas of the mind, conceived,
their pictures, just how I preferred;
with crimson fringes on their sleeves

and yellow braiding in their weave
that puts you in a trance, allured.
The rules of paper, turning leaves

to pallets, where the paint bereaves
the branches of their nesting birds,
with crimson fringes on their sleeves

to wear a semblance, on the eve
of October, so I‘ve heard;
the rules of paper, turning leaves,
with crimson fringes on their sleeves.

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Published on Tuesday, October 9, 2012. Filed under: "Structured" and "Poetry"

Author's Note:

Seems like forever since I've done villanelle; maybe a little rusty or lacking in the magic of the previous works, but it's something.

Comments on "Fringes on the Crimson Tree"

A former member wrote: This reads very well and is incredibly fluid. I like the style that you've captured here so I'll have to look into more villanelle in the future.
A former member wrote: well woven villanelle! sparkling emerald imagery, hypnotising.
On Tuesday, October 9, 2012, Alchemist (688) wrote:

I am sure ink grieves when it leaves your sleeve, to never rest again in a poet's speech, it must breeze the page in a mindful siege.
A former member wrote: Another simply wonderful and accomplished write. Fits the mood of my day. A softness gathering speed.