Let me just put it out there and say that I think sestinas suck. I really do not like this form. It's too long and unwieldy. It's repetitive, and not in a good way. Beyond slotting the end words into each stanza, you can't do much planning. In each poem I wrote, the words and poem took on a life of their own and I was forced to follow along.
We began this process by suggesting words to work with. I started writing when we had only 6 words to choose from. Those words were: here/hear, sense/cents, cart, turn, up, wind.
I listed the words on the top of a form and wrote the first stanza. Then I listed the end words in the remaining stanzas and envoi, looked them over, and jumped in.
Inspired by Sara's villanelle, I got caught up in something a bit more playful as I wondered who is actually crazy enough to write these things. Apparently, when all is said and done, I am! Here's the very first sestina I've ever written.
Writing the Sestina
Who does these things? I hear
poets can make sense
of this form, turn
words inside out, put the cart
before the horse. I wind
myself up
gearing up
to write. I hear
rhyme and meter in the wind,
devour poetry with every sense.
I cherry pick words, ripened fruit from a peddler’s cart,
watch them tumble down the page, turn
the corner, swirl around, and turn, turn, turn.
Churning in my stomach, they wander up
to my heart, my head. A menu, this a la carte
collection of sounds, an “oh” here,
an “ah” there, makes sense
only when read aloud, my breath on the wind.
I’ll toss this poem to the wind
hoping it will return,
that it has the good sense
to straighten up
and fly right. Say hear!
Cooperate and I’ll give you carte
blanche to carry this thing away in a push-cart,
unbound by rules, wind-
-ing and moving from here
to there as wheels turn
round. Energized I’m looking up.
Do I sense
the end is near? What per-cent
is complete? Can I pack it in? Cart
it away? Not yet. Don’t give up.
Stand firm against the wind.
Don’t hesitate to turn
the page. Put words here and HERE.
This sestina is nonsense in the wind,
a cartful of playful word tumbles and turns.
Listen up! There’s poetry here.
We began this process by suggesting words to work with. I started writing when we had only 6 words to choose from. Those words were: here/hear, sense/cents, cart, turn, up, wind.
I listed the words on the top of a form and wrote the first stanza. Then I listed the end words in the remaining stanzas and envoi, looked them over, and jumped in.
Inspired by Sara's villanelle, I got caught up in something a bit more playful as I wondered who is actually crazy enough to write these things. Apparently, when all is said and done, I am! Here's the very first sestina I've ever written.
Writing the Sestina
Who does these things? I hear
poets can make sense
of this form, turn
words inside out, put the cart
before the horse. I wind
myself up
gearing up
to write. I hear
rhyme and meter in the wind,
devour poetry with every sense.
I cherry pick words, ripened fruit from a peddler’s cart,
watch them tumble down the page, turn
the corner, swirl around, and turn, turn, turn.
Churning in my stomach, they wander up
to my heart, my head. A menu, this a la carte
collection of sounds, an “oh” here,
an “ah” there, makes sense
only when read aloud, my breath on the wind.
I’ll toss this poem to the wind
hoping it will return,
that it has the good sense
to straighten up
and fly right. Say hear!
Cooperate and I’ll give you carte
blanche to carry this thing away in a push-cart,
unbound by rules, wind-
-ing and moving from here
to there as wheels turn
round. Energized I’m looking up.
Do I sense
the end is near? What per-cent
is complete? Can I pack it in? Cart
it away? Not yet. Don’t give up.
Stand firm against the wind.
Don’t hesitate to turn
the page. Put words here and HERE.
This sestina is nonsense in the wind,
a cartful of playful word tumbles and turns.
Listen up! There’s poetry here.
Poem ©Tricia Stohr-Hunt, 2015. All rights reserved.
Once the group settled on a larger set of words (12!), I decided to try again, not completely happy with my first poem. I'll share that sestina with you next week.
We're missing Sara today, but her book draft was much more important than this month's endeavor. Don't fret ... she will be back! You can read the poems written by the other Poetry Seven compatriots at the links below.
- Tanita Davis - Torch In My Pocket, Face To the Wind
- Kelly Fineman - Sestina
- Laura Purdie Salas - The Uprising
- Liz Garton Scanlon - March Sestina
- Andi Sibley - Hornets
I do hope you'll take some time to check out all the wonderful poetic things being shared and collected today by Robyn Campbell. Happy poetry Friday friends!
Trisha, I think your playful aproach works well! My favorite part:
ReplyDelete"I cherry pick words, ripened fruit from a peddler’s cart,
watch them tumble down the page, turn
the corner, swirl around, and turn, turn, turn.
Churning in my stomach, they wander up
to my heart, my head. A menu, this a la carte
collection of sounds, an “oh” here,
an “ah” there, makes sense
only when read aloud, my breath on the wind."
That is poetry, the way the sounds swirl and wind up to heart and head...
I kind of enjoyed doing this form and the way it tells a story in a spiral. It was a bear of a struggle though!
approach
DeleteAndi, your comment is poetry ... "the way the sounds swirl and wind up to heart and head..."
DeleteIt is true though, isn't it? It just isn't poetry if I can't hear it.
I wish I could say I enjoyed this form and want to revisit it, but ... no.
Oh, Tricia, there is so much here I love! Sometimes it feels really good to follow someone else's lead and see what happens, and I think you springboarded off Sara's fun in a wonderful way. You unleashed something totally different in yourself. Brava! My favorite part is
ReplyDeleteI’ll toss this poem to the wind
hoping it will return,
that it has the good sense
to straighten up
and fly right.
And that ending, of course.
Thank you, Laura. These are kind words. At times I was so focused on form, it didn't feel like poetry. It still doesn't, depending on my mood when I read it. I suppose I'd like it better if it had some traditional meter to it.
DeleteLove all the sestinas I have read today. Your word tumbles and turns are a delight to read. :-)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Robyn It was a chore, but a good challenge.
Delete
ReplyDeleteStand firm against the wind.
Don’t hesitate to turn
the page. Put words here and HERE.
I know you thought you mucked it up, trying to fix that one five line stanza, but I believe that you simply made it go a whole new direction, and I like it. I can't be self-referential enough to write a poem about poetry - it never sounds right when I do it. ☺
Tanita, I never write about poetry, but this form had me so frustrated, I just started playing and that's what came out. I think it's more about me and how I think (overthink) when I write. This form just added to that.
DeleteMy second poem, the one on winter into spring, is the one I found with only five lines. I changed it so many times. Probably too many and at the same time, not enough. I'm going to share that one next week.
So much to love about this poem, and how "meta" it is - a poem about writing itself. I especially like these lines:
ReplyDeleteDo I sense
the end is near? What per-cent
is complete? Can I pack it in?
I'm glad you didn't pack it in. Also, I find this reminding me of Billy Collins's "Sonnet", which you can read here: http://www.theguardian.com/books/2008/jun/07/poetry1
Thank you for sharing that sonnet! I'd forgotten all about it. Sometimes I write a lot of junk about my writing. I'm not completely satisfied with this, but happy enough with it to share.
DeleteHmmm... considering I only tried my first pantoum not long ago, the sestina will definitely have to wait. Perhaps for a good long time. I do like your playful approach and, whether or not you believe it, I think your persistence paid off. The parts that Andromeda and Laura mentioned stood out for me as well.
ReplyDeleteThere is poetry here! I love the way you mixed your honest feelings with a sense of humor. I especially love the image of the poet cherry picking "words, ripened fruit from a peddler’s cart."
ReplyDeleteYou ladies crack me up with your bickering about the form and your perfectly wonder-full poems that emerged!
ReplyDelete