A Villanelle of Purpose 1

A= 11 syllables
B = 10 syllables
A What is my meaning, if only to possess?
B Born, already envisioning my place
A Only to discover a heart-shaped abscess
A Going from class to books, always to obsess
B Over nonsense that will not fill the space
A A crazy heart makes for nomadic address
A All the majors and worldly plans compress
B Into a desperate letter-grade race
A Plagued by the guise of eventual success
A With growth one increasingly needs to impress
B Yet if what is left is hollow, a trace
A I am bereft of beauty or true finesse
A I put down the Scantron; I demand redress
B I must slow down, redirect my own pace
A Trace the maps of my fingers, to make a mess
A This fear stemmed from submission, I do confess
B Within me still a tangled web of lace
A Proves even the wise are unable to guess
A Of what will become of those we choose to bless.

1 (based on the rhyme and meter [syllable count] of Elizabeth Bishops One Art as interpreted

and percieved by Madeline Ross)