Closed forms: Villanelles, Sestinas, et al

Ok, I've been reading ahead and not doing poetry exercises. Into closed forms now, which are defined by their strict structures and rules.

The villanelle, for example, is a 3-line stanza verse form in which the first line of the first stanza concludes the stanzas of even numbered stanzas and the third line concludes the stanzas of odd-numbered stanzas; the first and third lines then form a couplet at the end. Stephen Fry credits a famous villanelle, Dylan Thomas' "Do not go gentle" as being the inspiration for him to write Ode, or rather his friend's contemptuous disbelief that a modern poet could be using archaic closed forms. Here's the poem and an analysis.

Another closed form is the sestina. Sestinas have six stanzas of six lines each. They end with a 3-line stanza. What is unique is that the last word of each line of the first verse must also be used as the last words of the lines of successive verses, except that the order shifts with each verse. For example, the last word of the last line of the first verse then becomes the last word of the first line of the second verse. Confused yet? The example below does illustrate.

Which brings me to the example. What prompted me to write this post rather than just pretend I was taking a long time on my poetry exercise was the serendipitous turning of the pages of Neil Gaiman's Smoke and Mirrors where I found that Gaiman had written a sestina. For those who do not know his work, Gaiman started off writing graphic novels with the most famous being The Sandman series. He then moved into fiction, collaborating with Terry Pratchett and also writing on his own, works such as Stardust (illustrated by Charles Vess and now made into a movie), American Gods and Anansi Boys. Smoke and Mirrors is a collection of short stories and other writings, including of course... a sestina.

Vampire Sestina
by Neil Gaiman

I wait here at the boundaries of dream,
all shadow-wrapped. The dark air tastes of night,
so cold and crisp, and I wait for my love.
The moon has bleached the colour from her stone.
She'll come, and then we'll stalk this pretty world
alive to darkness and the tang of blood.

It's a lonely game, the quest for blood,
but still, a body's got the right to dream
and I'd not give it up for all the world.
The moon has leeched the darkness from the night.
I stand in the shadows, staring at her stone:
Undead my lover... O, undead my love?

I dreamt you while I slept today and love
meant more to me than life--meant more than blood.
The sunlight sought me, deep beneath my stone,
more dead than any corpse but still a-dream
until I woke as vapour into night
and sunset forced me out into the world.

For many centuries I've walked the world
dispensing something that resembled love--
a stolen kiss, then back into the night
contented by the life and by the blood.
And come the morning I was just a dream,
cold body chilling underneath a stone.

I said I would not hurt you. Am I stone
to leave you prey to time and to the world?
I offered you a truth beyond your dreams
while all you had to offer was your love.
I told you not to worry, and that blood
tastes sweeter on the wing and late at night.

Sometimes my lovers rise to walk the night...
Sometimes they lie, cold corpse beneath a stone,
and never know the joys of bed and blood,
of walking through the shadows of the world;
instead they rot to maggots. O my love
they whispered you had risen, in my dream.

I've waited by your stone for half the night
but you won't leave your dream to hunt for blood.
Goodnight, my love. I offered you the world.

p.s. Gaiman also has a few other poems in this collection. Including another closed form, the Rondel (that comes in the next chapter of Ode).