Salem Poetry

A weblog for English students

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

The Broken Windmill: A Villanelle

The skyline eyesore, awkward, still,
The broken windmill stood alone,
No arms, aloof, no grain to mill.

The city's heart around it, still,
The hectic rush of traffic drone,
All passed it by, or wished it ill.

Armless, voiceless in the shrill
And raging urban tone,
No tilting knight would come to kill

The coiled and seething dragon, till
One day, with traffic cones and phones,
The workmen came, with bricks and powerdrill.

It started small, it is small still -
Salvation from stagnations's drone,
No arms, no fight, just "Yes, I will".

The windmill turns now, I as well.
I tilted, lance now sharp and honed.
The skyline I saw, awkward still,
My arms aloof know grain to mill.

Clare Krojzl


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