Should be folding laundry...

I like this form of poetry a lot. It is called the villanelle. It has specific, intentional meter and form, and I think it has more substance than free or blank verse. Someday when my kids are older and I have more than a half hour to myself a day, I'd like to learn a whole lot more about poetry.

Here's a poem I came across a few years ago, supposed to be from the perspective of Mary Magdalene. It's odd, but thought provoking.

and with that, he bowed his head

Your turn of neck has summoned up my grief;
the coma curvature of words you leave,
my lungs heave past their desire to cease!

Past habits float, reanimate belief;
hands tremble over table settings, weak,
Your turn of neck has summoned up my grief.

These laden counters seek a slight reprieve:
your unused rations build my sorrow's pique.
My lungs heave past their desire to cease.

(P)Reparations should be made: the rude thief
of morning comes again, with warmth oblique.
Your turn of neck has summoned up my grief!

I only found an empty, perfumed sheath,
your body gone, ardor becomes antique-
my lungs heave past their desire to cease.

I followed on humblest terms, however brief,
yet now it would be me: the first you'd seek.
Your turn of neck has summoned up my grief,
my lungs heave past their desire to cease.