These days….

I usually write free verse, but during this tumultuous period of Covid19 and politics and strangeness, I am taking comfort from traditional forms of poetry. When stressed, I turn to iambic pentameter, I guess.

I am intrigued by the complexity and simplicity of the villanelle form. Famous ones include Roethke’s “Waking” and Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.” Repeated lines, repeated rhymes….it’s a kind of haunting form. Tercets and a quatrain and all that good stuff.

The new publication GRAND LITTLE THINGS just published my latest villanelle. Many thanks to Patrick Fey, the editor.

Photo by Barbara Green

You can read it using the link or below.

https://grand-little-things.com/2020/10/04/villanelle-2020-by-gabriella-brand/

                Villanelle 2020

Each day, these days, I make the time for grief
It's not just sadness, but a form of prayer:
I watch the world unfolding, turn its leaf.

A plague marauding, silent like a thief,
The cities stilled, a waiting in the air
Each day, these days, I make the time for grief

Autumn comes,the grain encased in sheaf
I don't remember harvest quite so rare
I watch the world unfolding, turn its leaf.

Things falls apart, renew,and test belief
I search for hope, and dance against despair
Each day, these days, I make the time for grief

Because I know that permanence is brief
And filaments are fragile, prone to wear
I watch the world unfolding, turn its leaf

I ride the breeze, the stars, to find relief
Acknowledge kindness when I see it there
Each day, these days, I make the time for grief
I watch the world unfolding, turn its leaf.

So much is happening…

Every week NewVerse News publishes poetry that is related to current events. Most publications takes months to read, decide and publish submitted work. But New Verse News shares writer’s immediate reactions. They just published my poem entitled “The Supreme Court Justices Go to the Garage”, which I wrote upon hearing of the recent legal decision to uphold the 1964 Civil Rights Act. It was inspired by a courageous and talented friend named Erica P.

Read it here:

The Supreme Court Justices Go to the Garage

The blue work shirt.

The logo for City Motors. 

Then her name.

The name which used to be Jim, 

embroidered over the left breast.

The left breast which used to be flatter.

The voice, which used to be deeper

Oh, they teased, those other mechanics,

put tampons in the tool box, 

wrote Jennifer in brake fluid 

under the lift, on the toilet mirror.

The garage owner ticked off, weighing the trouble

yet knowing Jennifer was good,

better than good, reliable, 

on time, quick to figure out

the rattle, the hum, the tinny sound that the

others missed. 

Jennifer, not Jim. Now holding up her head.

Doing her job.

The shirt. The name. The breast. The voice. 

A turn of the wrench, a law upheld.