The Grá Reformata, created by Michael King, is based upon the Villanelle form.

Following the basic setting of the Villanelle, the a Grá Reformata has an extra couplet between each tercet. This couplet can be either rhymed within the structure of the rest of the poem, or in free verse, but always in iambic pentameter.

Format:

a-b-a
x-x
a-b-a
x-x
a-b-a
x-x
a-b-a
x-x
a-b-a
a-b-a-a

The x consists of the rhymed, or unrhymed iambic couplet.

Example #1:

Untitled

Indecent these proposals where we lie;
although the structures random beauty falls,
these tear drops ‘pon a river start to cry.

My soulless promenade is hanging high,
my mem’ry stationed true, set to destroy.

Mountaineering pressures hold my eye;
Supported by the Devils weighty calls,
indecent these proposals where we lie.

I stand alone, my pen, my page, not falls,
the splendour in this place, I now deploy.

Now grateful do I sound a burgeoned dye;
Not sinning, I have soldered iron balls,
these tear drops ‘pon a river start to cry.

Now more for me to do, and no more try.
My feelings once again in my employ.

Where once I tainted this, the very sky;
I bounce upon my spirits man-made walls,
indecent these proposals where we lie.

This hopeless beauty to me always calls,
I play upon my heart, a diamond toy.

Though yesteryear I struggled not to pry;
I wandered like a ghost amidst these stalls,
these tear drops ‘pon a river start to cry.

Await the day my tear ducts will be dry, 
and there uphill my Lady to recall.
Indecent these proposals where we lie,
these tear drops ‘pon a river start to cry.

Copyright © 2013 Michael King

Example #2:

Untitled

I met this fool, just standing in the street,
with buttons lined upon his shirt and back;
with pointed toes resembling his poor feet.
 
He beat a box, in tune to the sun’s shine,
just bopped along, a fortune in his mouth.
 
He dared to tell me his life was complete,
but I misheard; my ears could feel the slack.
I met this fool just standing in the street.
 
With rings throughout his face, he was a mess,
unholy living structure in plain sight.
 
His shirt was red, his lapels were replete
with his two hands which he placed back to back;
with pointed toes resembling his poor feet.
 
He called his name, a reference to St. George,
a college boy, a symbol of release.
 
I faltered, clear gold shining from his teeth,
and asked him where I could go for some crack;
I met this fool just standing on the street.
 
He stopped, just stared as though I had no eyes.
His eyes grew wide, and backed into his head.
 
He hit the wall, and then he hit the street,
he ran with all his might, never looked back;
with pointed toes resembling his poor feet.
 
I walked along, somehow remained discreet,
though everywhere I turned, these dogs were black.
I met this fool just standing on the street,
with pointed toes, resembling his poor feet.


Copyright © 2013 Michael King