We've been looking at the villanelle in my writing class, so I thought I'd have a bash at one. There's something very wistful and slightly archaic about the form for me - the repeated rhymes and refrains. I have been a little free with the form but I think it is still recognisably a villanelle....
Will you never kiss my face again -
your hands reach out no more, your finger's tip
not trace the line of cheek on down to chin?
Will my tongue not taste your breathy stain
and will your lip not press upon my lip?
Will you never kiss my face again?
Remember times when we embraced in rain.
Remember how we gave the sun the slip.
Now there is terror in this parted pain.
You struck me once, I still recall the sting:
your hand against my cheek – my swollen lip.
Will you never strike this face again?
And tears you cried, when stressing under strain
or contemplating yet another trip –
for there was terror in that parted pain.
But now the parting is complete. Death's train
has swept you from the platform, made no slip.
Now there is terror in this parted painFor you will never kiss my face again.