A villanelle with alliteration
“He doesn’t look like a champion, barely.”
When you’re blind, and times seem darkest,
grimly, you see clearly; steer from fear, near me.
Take your best shot, a bandana blindfold, dimly.
A swing and a miss, fourfold.
“He doesn’t look like a champion, barely.”
Speak for yourself; heal ye, will he.
The most dangerous weapon; a focused mind.
Shouting obscenities loses meaning; hear he, believe me.
A river runs bombs on a rock in the river, standstill, fiercely.
Like the heart of a warrior amid liquid thrills.
“He doesn’t look like a champion, barely.”
The rock in the river, standstill, in theory.
Kingly, I’ll show you how it’s done; here be, grizzly.
Grimly, you see clearly; steer from fear, near me.
You’ll ‘come a champion, like ye.
You’ll be better, until he, year we.
“He looks like a champion,” feared he.
Grimly, you see clearly; steer from fear, near me.