Identity Routine In The Poutine


*Image found HERE


Identity Routine In The Poutine


In the darkened hours do the ghastly meadows drone,

I, am dead, but in the crevice of a lip,

Branding me with names I used to own.


Who places, then, like poker cards, my scars against the glow?

I, a pearl, that slumbers amid sunken ships.

In the darkened hours do the ghastly meadows drone.


The questions softly landed in the rigid palm of crones,

The trees, parading in my gut with naked hips

Branding me with names I used to own.


I think I heard my heart conspire in the pocket of a stone,

Tune like arsenic, translucent, small sips.

In the darkened hours do the ghastly meadows drone.


I find me, a cosmonaut in vacuum, hollowed, and alone.

At quarter to six, over tea, the dream rips,

Branding me with names I used to own.


In the backdrop of the rooms I smell my fading soul;

Shadows, lights, all hungers. Angles for the dibs.

In the darkened hours do the ghastly meadows drone,

Branding me with names I used to own.

*My second ever villanelle. They are antagonising and mesmerizing at the same time, I will certainly write more of them, trying to challenge myself every time to use words harder to rhyme or, to say it better, rhyme it how I want it 🙂


~ by Oloriel on June 14, 2016.

28 Responses to “Identity Routine In The Poutine”

  1. I thought that was amazing, M 🙂

  2. Wonderful.

  3. I am looking forward to reading future attempts – this second attempt of yours already displays a fine sense of imagery 🙂

    • Thank you very much for reading and taking the time to leave me a comment, I am very happy to hear the imagery was enticing. I was really trying to shake off the classical feel and go for a more Plath feel this time around, as opposed to my first villanelle, but from my own perspective, I think I was somewhere stuck in the middle this time around 🙂 We will see what villanelle number 3 brings! 😀

  4. You say that this is your second villanelle and I say that this is fantastic.
    I see a congruence with Plath’s work.

    The feeling of that loneliness here is so concrete that one could feel its touch and be stimulated by all that it entails. There is something both comforting and heart breaking about this circumstance when unbeknownst to you, you become a spectacle even when your names are distanced from you. For others, we are alive but within, are we?
    But perhaps that’s how we stay mounted to what is the popular definition of life after all: by being dead “but in the crevice of a lip”.

    • Thank you so much for writing this, HA, I think you voiced it much better than I did in the poem!
      I am also very happy to hear from you, I hope you are well in this drowning world, and I check almost daily to read your new work!

  5. “I, a pearl, that slumbers amid sunken ships.
    In the darkened hours do the ghastly meadows drone.
    Branding me with names I used to own”….

    Powerful verses… Routine and identity… I wonder who we are if we release the names, the language… and cultural attributes.. those lessons we have been learning since day one… (?)…
    Great poem as always. Sending love & best wishes! Aquileana 😉

    • Thank you very much for your heartfelt comment, Aquileana, I am really glad you enjoyed the poem and that it made you think!
      Have a wonderful day and impending weekend!

  6. This is beyond BRILLIANT.

  7. love the dark mood here, Mirjana…
    reading the comment section here, I see you think you don’t give “sunshine material”?! I prefer raw and honest dark moods, that we all have… so I stick around ♥

    • Thank you ❤ It is troubling at times, because I think posting poetry online comes with responsibility. I shudder and fear someone reading my words will grow or become hopeless in their dark hour, dark hour when they needed a poem about kittens, ice cream and sunshine. This is why I personally always read poems some of my fellow writers call plain, or instagram poems, or napkin poetry. Two sentences about simple obvious love. We need LOTS OF THAT, daily, in today's world.
      I often feel like I am forcing whoever reads my poetry to deal with the darkness I already outgrew. I am plagued by sentences that art should inspire, poetry should illuminate and compliment. Most of all, I am plagued by honestly wanting and pleading whoever and whatever to let everyone be happy. These dark lines only a trifle, we can all read without flinching.

  8. This is so excellent! You are very talented, my friend. Is talented a name you used to own? If not you own it now, and are so branded. ⭐

    • Thank you very much, Resa, for your heartwarming words! And for inspiration, because I am thinking now and “The Talented” seems like a wonderful character name for the MMORPGs I play. So many possibilities! 🙂

  9. Fantastic Villanelle, I really love how you have chosen the repetitive lines, making it almost to a shaman’s chant. Truly wonderful.

    • Thank you very much for letting me know what you think, Bjorn! It means a lot to me, because in offering form poetry, you are among first ones whose approval I aspire to!

  10. Absolutely stunning, my friend! Your words flow like silk and your diction is always one of a kind.

  11. I thought of food first, then it wall changed…

    I like it, its different from your style however you managed to pull it of quite nicely, now I am only thinking of your names and aliases

    • I think it is because it is a dictated form? That is why it feels different. The form is hard for me, because you know I despise repetition, so it is a challenge.

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