The Curse Of Formal Verse

I agree with "~justim" that you have betrayed yourself in a few places. Nevertheless, it is (unlike some efforts I've seen on DA) a true villanelle which actually works and makes its point. I think also that those whose comments are against strict forms have completely misunderstood the poetic values of form - in particular, its liberating influence (free verse is very difficult to do well, and I myself find that the demands it imposes on my poetic skills are considerably greater than the reassuring structure of a fixed form).

However, I would suggest that you pay closer attention to eliminating irregularities in your pentameters; one of the virtues of the villanelle is the tremendous sonority and power which it can develop when the metre is regular and assured. The one place where I think you have set up an effective irregularity in this example is right at the start, where the "missing" first syllable of the iambic foot makes it start with quite a bang. The other irregularities are, as they stand, more in the nature of stumbling-blocks to an effective reading.

When writing a villanelle, you may find it helpful (I certainly do!) to write out a complete list of possible rhyme-words for the rhymes you have chosen; these might then suggest possible lines to use. But this - writing a line just to lead up to the rhyme - is always a trap very easy to fall into (I certainly do this too!), because so often it merely shows that you haven't paid any attention to the development of your thought. Just writing to the rhyme isn't enough, as you are clearly aware.

I've never been able to just sit down and say "I think I'll write a villanelle" - the form is too unusual for that - but I have found that some ideas are definitely villanelle-shaped (so to speak) so they demand to be worked out in that particular way. For me, the hard part has generally been to find a pair of "refrain" lines which will work (and be grammatically correct) throughout the poem; once I have settled that, the rest comes fairly easily. One of my early ones, for example:

The small man

The words break diamond-bright on bars of sand
in sprays of glory, fierce with strength untried
run though my head, and then escape my hand.

So hot they blaze! Trying to understand,
I feel their fire. Before my ink has dried
the words break diamond-bright on bars of sand.

Form is no answer – trapped when they are scanned,
still they elude each mechanism tried,
run though my head, and then escape my hand.

At each attempt to pierce the grand
illusion – hoping to work with love, not pride –
the words break diamond-bright on bars of sand.

Voyaging thus to visions far from land
I chase the phantom rules that give no guide,
run though my head, and then escape my hand.

Faced with such splendid choices, so unplanned
and with such powers, how can I decide?
The words break diamond-bright on bars of sand,
run though my head, and then escape my hand.

You can see that the regularity of the iambic pentameter gives it that relentless feeling which is a great strength of the form; and the places where it breaks down are (hopefully) all the more intense and intimate for that breakdown. It's not a brilliant poem, but it does attempt to use the form itself to support the point being made.

I would also say that the critique of the villanelle is in many respects also the critique of the sonnet, in that very similar poetic values and concepts apply to both. You may therefore find it helps if you try writing sonnets (which are better understood, and more free-ranging in their structuring of ideas) purely in order to practise (a) your handling of iambic pentameter for effect, and (b) the development of poetic ideas in a similar but less demanding setting. But that's just me - you may have different ideas.