The Sestina
This week's challenge is focusing on structure.
The sestina requires a lot of thinking, but can produce some amazing poetry.
Don't know how to write one?
Read this:
Example:A sestina is a form of poetry that uses a method of repeating words at the end of each line. It has 6 stanzas of 6 lines each, with an envoy (or tercet) of three lines to conclude the poem. While a sestina may seem daunting at first, they can be used to create vivid, powerful poems.
How:Become familiar with the structure of a sestina before writing one. You will use 6 repeating words throughout the poem. If you label each word with a letter (e.g. A, B, C, D, E, F), the stanzas will follow this line pattern:
Stanza 1: A, B, C, D, E, F
Stanza 2: F, A, E, B, D, C
Stanza 3: C, F, D, A, B, E
Stanza 4: E, C, B, F, A, D
Stanza 5: D, E, A, C, F, B
Stanza 6: B, D, F, E, C, A
Tercet: AB CD EF
What this means is that in Stanza 1, the word you labeled “A” will end Line 1. The word labeled “B” will end Line 2; in Stanza 2, the word you labeled “F” will end Line 1, and so on. This pattern continues throughout the poem. In the tercet, there are only 3 lines. Line 1 will contain word “A” somewhere, and it will end with word “B”; you use the same pattern for the other two lines.
Mid Summer
In a big chair by the light of sunshine,
I am half way into a book of poems,
undisturbed by the busy world of my sister,
who is creating bouquets of straw and silk,
placed in containers carved from wood,
as she hums softly to her working with flowers.
She hasn't always worked with flowers.
For months she searched for the warmth of sunshine,
let the bitter edge of her thoughts carve planks of wood--
to comfort her--as does my book of poems
envelope me, shimmer inside me, like silk.
There aren't enough people in this world like my sister.
A year ago, you would not know my sister.
Of all the things she might choose, the last would be flowers,
standing in the doorway, her hands pulling silk
scarves away from her head in the bare light of sunshine,
her voice falling like the ending of sad poems,
her eyes, unremittingly solid as a block of wood.
But there is something settling in the richness of wood
with a deep sigh of its own, learned by my sister.
Like the metaphor of soothing poems
she found in it, a vessel for flowers,
leaning against the hope of crystal sunshine,
a sheen about her face--pure as silk.
There is something precious and delicate about silk,
working over a rough plank of wood--
her voice humming the melody of sunshine....
I have never seen her so beautiful as today, my sister
in the quiet moment of flowers...
She is the holiness of poems.
She is the commitment expressed in a Book of Poems,
her head wrapped in silk,
her strength, placated by bouquets of flowers,
the fury of her cancer carved in wood--
this ordinary woman of thirty-six, my sister
so young to be called from sunshine.
As the sunshine of spring garden poems
my sister will leave me scarves of silk
the scent of wood, and light crossing bouquets of flowers.
Betty Ann Whitney, Wesley Chapel, FL, USA
Once you are done, please post your piece in Poetic Scriptures
(after responding to at least 2 other pieces, of course)
Provide a link to your completed piece in this thread
so that we can find your attempts at the sestina!
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