Villanelle PUBLICATION

Hello everyone!

I don’t know why it is…but I tend to “purposefully forget” to share publications to my amazing readers & followers, to my friends and family. I think it’s because I write for me and for the basic joy of language. I publish and submit to publication so that others may share in this joy with me.

I’ve two new villanelles published in the Winter 2019 Edition (Volume 13 Issue 2) of Mezzo Cammin: An Online Journal of Formalist Poetry by Women. I’ve been blessed to have been published in this journal before as well in 2011, also with two villanelles. *You can find those HERE!

After I share a snippet of my poem(s) here and post the link, I want to give just a brief introduction to the villanelle! So….please check out the rest of this post!

Excerpt from my villanelle: “Therapy”

Therapy 

Why did you come and talk with me today?
I loved a girl; she left and broke my heart.
Well, for a price, I’ll take your cares away!

I do hope that you can afford to pay…
Exactly when will the therapy start?
Why did you come and talk with me today?

Was it some broken heart? What did you say?
I feel as if my soul’s been ripped apart.
Well, for a price, I’ll take your cares away!

Perhaps you need a scrip: “Take twice a day”.
No, no…I’m just another broken heart.
Then why’d you come and talk with me today?

•••••••••••••For more, please follow the following link: Brittany Hill TWO Villanelles Mezzo Cammin Here you will find what happens at the end of this therapy session AND my other published villanelle “Grandma’s Relationship Advice to Me on My 16th Birthday”••••••••••••••

The Villanelle

First of all–NO! I’m not referencing the main character/killer/amazing actress from Killing Eve! But…the form is just as intriguing.

Much like the sonnet, the villanelle is a poem in ‘form’ and written in iambic pentameter--five foot lines of stressed/unstressed syllables. Although, a villanelle usually has 19 lines. It also contains five stanzas of three lines, or tercets, followed by a single stanza of four lines, or a quatrain.

Now, the trickier part… There are two repeating lines and two repeating refrains. If I were to write out all these instructions, it would be even more convoluted and confusing! So, I’ll just go ahead and write out the rhyme and refrain pattern for a visual guide, followed by a famous villanelle example.

Note: Capital letters are the refrain & lowercase letters are the rhyme.

A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2.

So, as you can see: A1 and A2 are the repeating refrains, while a/b are the rhyming lines.

Let’s look at an example!

One of the most famous villanelles is Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” (I have bolded the repeating A1 phrase and underlined the A2 repeating refrain).

     Do not go gentle into that good night,
     Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
     Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

     Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they
     Do not go gentle into that good night.

     Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
     Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
     Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

     Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
     And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
     Do not go gentle into that good night.

     Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
     Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
     Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

     And you, my father, there on the sad height,
     Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
     Do not go gentle into that good night.
     Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

WOW! Such a powerful poem! No wonder it holds such strength, intrigue, and longevity. You can really see how those repeating lines build up momentum in tone, in the heaviness of emotion throughout the poem, in a hope or longing for the author’s father to beat death–to ‘rage’ against the dying light (his life extinguishing).

YOU TRY!

I would love to see your villanelle examples! Feel free to comment them OR email them to me if you’re not comfortable having them posted here. Remember: Most villanelle topics are chosen so that they are suitable for repetition. Much like my published example, “Therapy” the speaker was having very difficult time in the relationship and even the therapist couldn’t figure out how to fix that broken heart. In Thomas’ example, well…there’s nothing more intense than dealing with losing a loved one. You may even choose to write happy villanelles too that require repetition: can’t figure out where to move, couldn’t choose between two great desserts, daydreaming all day about vacation?! All great topics! I’d love to see them and your thoughts on my published work 🙂

See you all really soon!

B

Staying Afloat

Burning

I wish that I could be caught on fire

With scented candles placed from tips

Of fingers to tips of toes, body stripped

Of worldly clothes—make it sacrificial.

I want to be sent out to the Atlantic,

Vast and cold, with fired sorrow emblazoned

In me so that I may commence rebirth

From the ashes, washed in the sea. 

—-Brittany Rea Hill

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Today has been a pretty very difficult today. One of those days where you’d like to never move from the couch, or bed, or chair, but you have absolutely no choice because you have doctors appointments and life. Yep–that day.

One of the most uncomfortable symptoms of my RA is pleurisy which is basically when the pleura–membrane with a layer of tissue that lines the inner chest cavity and a layer of tissue that surrounds the lungs gets inflamed–and has severe sharp/shooting pains. I know, really basic, right? All that is important to know is BREATHING=PAIN! I was given one of those Peak Flow Meters a few months ago when I had my first severe case of pleurisy that sent me to the ER.

It is supposed to help keep my lungs open, make deep breathing easier, and allow me too track my progress with breathing when I am having long flare ups. Ugh! When I have to take this thing out, I almost immediately break down and crack open my little steroid tic tacs every time! But, I attempt to take my steroids as little as possible since it has so many longterm side effects.

My pleurisy has been so bad though, that I couldn’t even do my nails today! That’s right: I have Memorial Day toes and tips on! It is so terrible. For those of you who follow me on Instagram and Snapchat, you know that I am constantly changing my nail designs and nail shapes. I absolutely love doing my nails, it’s very relaxing to me. I think I enjoy doing most creative activities because they allow me to utilize my brain in different nonrestrictive ways.

My first attempt at doing a French Fade/Baby Boomer!

This is precisely why working in a corporate setting has never uhh been my ‘thing’. I feel like I am suffocating and that my time should and could be better spent doing a million other things than literally anything else going on on my desk, let alone in the office. The only thing that I found remotely exciting was the office gossip, and even that got too much too fast. I had my own stuff going on, I didn’t have time for all of those people coming to my desk stressing me out because her baby’s father wanted to have their baby around his new girlfriend, or because Jose caught his boyfriend cheating with Jose’s Uber driver that he thought he was going on a date with after he met him on Tinder…or the 45 year-old alcoholic coming into work cussing out the entire management staff, throwing papers in his face and telling him he needs to do the work himself if he can’t keep his mouth out of her business…and then she gets suspended for two weeks, but comes into work the next day, stands by my desk where I give her the eye and she sits down leaving a whiff of alcohol that I don’t know is Listerine or 80 proof. I do not have the time. Besides, I now have dedicated time and teaspoons of energy to give to my writing and music.I do miss working outside of the home though; just being able to see different faces, absorb fresh air and sun. Yet, for such a long time, being unwell has made me unable to work, both physically and mentally. It has just been in the last month or so that I’ve felt like, ‘Hey! I may be able to start doing this again!’ Most people don’t know that I have been working since the age of 13 (actually prior to that because my family has a business and you better believe I was contributing my share of help! But now, I want to focus on my writing and music–funny, how life works out that way I think. 

So, my post is shorter and later today because I spent most of my afternoon getting yet another chest X-ray to check the condition of my lungs and heart (pleurisy and pericarditis–which I have had a couple of times before as well). Last night I was awake and in terrible pain (PAINSOMNIA!) until about 3:00AM, and in those moments, I spend time writing, editing, and submitting poetry. I want to share this piece with you which I have submitted for publication in various journals. It was under revision and I wrote this while awake at 4:00AM during a PAINSOMNIA! event, too. Please, I am open to your comments, to your questions.

If you also have a piece of writing that you’ve writing during a time of ‘PAINSOMNIA!’ do feel free to post it in comments below, or send mean e-mail so that I may post it here at a later time! Here is my poem again below!

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Burning

I wish that I could be caught on fire

With scented candles placed from tips

Of fingers to tips of toes, body stripped

Of worldly clothes—make it sacrificial.

I want to be sent out to the Atlantic,

Vast and cold, with fired sorrow emblazoned

In me so that I may commence rebirth

From the ashes, washed in the sea. 

                   —Brittany Rea Hill

Monday Morning Memes

Well!!!!! It’s that day again–Monday 😩

The first day of the week when we just try to make it through until the weekend, again. The day when all of Friday night and Saturday day’s festivities have either taken their toll, or created a slow-burning, yearning down in our souls whispering to us, “Do it again…Do it again”.

But I mean, how many times can one excitedly leave the couch to triumphantly answer the door for Amazon Prime deliveries?? In FRESH pjs nonetheless! How can we ever top the fascination of finally washing that laundry that’s been sitting stacked in our laundry room for two weeks because our legs, wrist, shoulders, waist (body) has been too tired to move along with our own existence? And wait! What about just the triumph alone of not canceling plans with your in town/out of touch friends for once?! Like, it has been about two months since you’ve seen anything outside of your own four walls, your office, and that coworker who always hangs around your cubicle giving you puppy dog pity faces even though she has absolutely no idea what chronic illnesses you have–and if Laura and Jessica say one more time, “Oh. My. God! I have terrible cramps, too! Period sisters!!”–you will seriously start to fantasize about which Lifetime movie you can reenact without getting caught and going to jail, citing temporary insanity…A woman finally snaps on office workers who don’t bother to look up what endometriosis is and constantly compare their butterfly 🦋 fluttering of period cramps to the T-Rex 🦖 stomping inside her uterus on a daily basis in…‘Endo Put Her To An End, Yo’. Yes! Such amazing triumphs throughout this past weekend, and I’m sure so many more to come this week. All of us with chronic pain and illnesses know that even the minute of accomplishments are mountains to many of us! And for that very reason, I wanted to start off this week with some of my favorite chronic pain and chronic illness memes I have come across! If you happen to find any that you’d like to share, please feel free to comment them below OR email them to me @britr2002@yahoo.com and I’ll put them in my post next Monday morning!

1.

I mean…yassss

2.

If I hear one more time “Exercise will make you feel better!” When I can’t even move…

3.

4.

LIES!!!!!

5.

One. Of. My. Favorites.

6.

Every time! Such a Catch-22!

7.

8.

9.

10.

I knew I was talented, but this is too much.

in media res

in media res

I never believed anyone would want to read my story, as it’s difficult to lie to the mirror within yourself; to settle and strap down the peripatetic heart inside of you–living just to burst free and explore its beats. It’s even harder to shape the hairs that run along your supercilious spine, almost ceremoniously holding you together, every one locked in place; it bends and bows barometrically with enough force to give the illusion of choice, direction.

We are but visitors with a stranded path and plotted genetics, which most times make our journey not difficult but…interesting. “Interesting” as my father says fondly over Sunday cups of steaming coffee. He can find the slightest ground of intrigue in the mundane. I share the lust for irreplaceable replaceable knowledge. My mother, of a different sort, not much in noticing the luxe of nothingness in everything. Although she may at times mutter, “I love learning about stuff like that!” her love of useless knowledge ends as most do–Snapple Facts and the passing trivia. She is business with a child’s heart–that I get from her.

I am a dreamer. Most of the time I can be found lost in my reverie, shifting feet from left to right, or searching for a pen. I was just recently reacquainted with several of my monogrammed moleskin journals, so I will no longer have to jot down lengthy ‘trivials’ in the note section of my iPhone (as easy as it is, there’s something about putting pen to paper!)

I wasn’t sure to begin…the very beginning? Back in time to my earliest memories? Some of which, quite fondly, contain delicate moments between my grandpa and I. Should I begin in middle school (bleh!) where I first realized and experienced the truth that my skin color made me different as I traveled through this world? High School? Where the students really had me realize that my ethnicity chose multitudinous outcomes in my high school culture regardless of my awareness or not. Honestly, I never had dates or escorts to the Prom, or any formal event for that matter except one (and if he’s reading this, he knows who he is!) To this day, I know that my slow…uhhh…nonexistent dating life in high school gave me a slow start in dating overall which has unfortunately carried into adulthood. In my young adult years, I dated a LOT, but I never thought twice about having a family too young, too early, I always believed there would be time. Yet, as the years continue to tick by, endometriosis has become, “The Hand that Rocks the Cradle” and I begin to weigh relationships as forgotten opportunities–retrospect. I was engaged once, too, but that’s a nightmare, story, for a different time.

So, I begin here: in media res (‘in the middle of things’) which at this point is the only way I know how. As I have been experiencing some level, some type, some distinction of chronic pain since the age of 11, I have always been in action and continually moving to the next moment. I am hoping that my brief snapshot has been able to give you access to not only my vulnerability, but also entry into your own. It has been a long 7 years away, but it feels fantastic to be back with everyone! Please remember that we are all here together, and no matter what you may have gone through or are going through right now–you are enough.

ME!