A Villanelle poem using no specific syllable count.

The Dreamer
Though my dreams, they may never come true,
I am a dreamer, my soul takes flight,
I find solace in what I pursue.

Through starry skies and endless night,
In every night, when I close my eyes,
Though my dreams, they may never come true,

Yet when in my dreams, I visualize,
A new path forms, a different way,
I find solace in what I pursue.

To chase my dreams, a different day.
And so I sleep, with a peaceful mind,
Though my dreams, they may never come true,

Knowing that dreams are never left behind,
In every night, a new dream is born,
I find solace in what I pursue.

Every morning, a new hope shall dawn.
So let me dream, for I shall not tire,
Though my dreams, they may never come true,

The dream may fade yet is never gone.
For in my dreams, I find my desire,
Though my dreams, they may never come true,
I am content, with what I pursue.

Original poem nine syllables
The Dreamer (Vs2)
I am a dreamer, my soul takes flight,
Through starry skies and endless night,
And though my dreams may never come true,
I find solace in what I pursue.
For every night, when I close my eyes,
And when in my dreams, I visualize,
A new path forms, a different way,
To chase my dreams, a different day.
And so I sleep, with a peaceful mind,
Knowing that dreams are never left behind,
For every night, a new dream is born,
And every morning, a new hope dawns.
So let me dream, for I shall not tire,
For in my dreams, I find my desire,
And though my dream may never come true,
I am content, with what I pursue.

Poetry is not a static art—it is a living, breathing practice of transformation. In The Dreamer, Sarah B. Royal demonstrates how a single poetic idea can evolve across forms, revealing new emotional textures and structural possibilities. The original villanelle version of The Dreamer uses repetition and rhyme to evoke longing, resilience, and the quiet power of hope. Though it abandons strict syllabic meter, it retains the musicality and recursive rhythm that define the villanelle form. Each refrain—“Though my dreams, they may never come true” and “I find solace in what I pursue”—anchors the poem in emotional truth, while the shifting stanzas explore the tension between desire and acceptance.

The second version of The Dreamer, rewritten in nine-syllable lines, offers a more measured cadence. The poem breathes differently—its rhythm steadier, its imagery more expansive. The same lines, restructured, take on new weight. The transformation from villanelle to syllabic verse is not merely technical; it reflects a shift in emotional tone, from recursive yearning to contemplative clarity.

Poetry as Iteration: Repetition as Revelation

In Sarah B. Royal’s poetic philosophy, certain words become old friends—revisited, reshaped, and revoiced across time. Her practice of rewriting poems in different forms is not just stylistic; it is a form of inquiry. A couplet may become a villanelle, a free-verse fragment may blossom into a tanka, and a strict sonnet may shed its iambs to find new breath in blank verse. Each transformation reveals hidden harmonies, emotional nuances, and structural surprises. Repetition becomes revelation.

This iterative process is akin to playing variations on a melody. The words remain mostly the same, but their relationships shift. Rhyme mirrors meaning, line breaks summon surprise, and meter hides half-uttered truths. Royal treats each draft as a laboratory—testing hypotheses about sound, imagery, and emotional charge. A single word like “fall” may evoke autumn’s melancholy, a moral stumble, or the grace of surrender, depending on its poetic context.

Constraint as Catalyst: Form as Creative Engine

Rather than limiting creativity, poetic constraints become catalysts for innovation. Royal embraces syllable counts, rhyme schemes, and stanzaic structures as tools for discovery. Folding an existing poem into a new form forces its language to do different work—stretching into unexpected meanings or snapping back with renewed concision. This constraint-driven evolution adds layers of depth to both the poem and the poet’s craft.

In The Dreamer, the villanelle’s refrains echo the persistence of longing, while the syllabic version offers a more linear progression toward peace. Each form reveals a different facet of the same emotional truth. Royal’s willingness to rework her poems across decades reflects a belief that no poem is ever truly finished—only paused in its journey.

WoPoLi as Living Archive: The Evolution of Voice

Through WoPoLi, Royal curates a living archive of poetic iterations. Scanned drafts, digital revisions, and reimagined forms coexist, documenting the evolution of language and self. A title from decades ago may resurface with new relevance; a youthful reflection may transform into something elegiac, defiant, or redemptive. Each version bears the imprint of its moment—its questions, its fears, its hopes, and the poetic forms it sought to master.

This archive is not just a record—it is a testament to the poet’s journey. Royal honors both the constancy of her subjects and the shifting horizons of her creative vision. Her work affirms that poetry’s greatest power lies in its ability to change with us, over and over again.

Conclusion: The Dreamer as Method and Message

The Dreamer is more than a poem—it is a method, a message, and a mirror. It reflects the poet’s commitment to exploration, experimentation, and evolution. By re-speaking the same words in different ways, Royal invites readers into a dance of reinvention—where every line remains both familiar and newly alive. In this practice, poetry becomes not just a form of expression, but a lifelong conversation with language, memory, and meaning.