Welcome to Day 3 of the September Open Write. If you have written with us before, welcome back. If you are joining us for the first time, you are in the kind, capable hands of today’s host, so just read the prompt below and then, when you are ready, write in the comment section below. We do ask that if you write, in the spirit of reciprocity, you respond to three or more writers. To learn more about the Open Write, click here.
Wendy Everard is a high school English teacher and writer living in central New York. Her role as mother and teacher has given her plenty to write about since she started writing personal narrative and poetry, lifelong hobbies kicked into overdrive when she joined a summer institute with the Seven Valleys branch of the National Writing Project a few years ago and began mentoring student teachers. She teaches in Cazenovia, New York.
Inspiration
Writer Stanley Fish says, “You shall tie yourself to forms, and the forms shall set you free.” The sestina is one of my favorite forms. It’s composed of six 6-line unrhymed stanzas and ends in a tercet (a 3-line stanza) that acts as an envoi: a summary of the poem or a dedication to a particular person. The adoption of the form can both guide and free you, producing some surprising results.
The ending words of the first stanza appear in each successive stanzas, in rotating order in the following form:
- ABCDEF
- FAEBDC
- CFDABE
- ECBFAD
- DEACFB
- BDFECA
- (envoi) ECA or ACE
(“A” = first word; “B” = second word; etc.)
Process
Today, I’d like to challenge you to use the sestina form, or a variation of it, to write a poem. Your poem does not have to follow the traditional sestina form or length.
Step 1: The first thing to do is pick a subject for your sestina and brainstorm a list of 6 words that come to mind when you think of your subject. Letter these 6 words as “A,” “B,” “C,” etc.
Hint: Try to brainstorm six words that have the potential for flexibility in both meaning and form. As you play with the connotation and form of these words in successive stanzas, you can change the form of your words, adding “-ing” or “ed” or using them as different parts of speech. Be creative.
Example:
My Subject – Christmas Memories
Word A: wait
B: edge
C: muffle
D: love
E: burn
F: couch
Step 2:
Write your first stanza, ending each line with one of these words.
Example
My first stanza:
Upon the couch, I used to wait:
Chin resting on the back of it, the edge:
Outside, snow would fall and gently muffle
Christmas lights on the window’s ledge – I loved
to watch the colors be slowly buried, to later burn
through their blanket of white, and me on the couch.
Step 3:
To write a traditional sestina, you will need to write five more stanzas, each ending in the same six words, but using them in this order:
Stanza 2: FAEBDC
Stanza 3: CFDABE
Stanza 4. ECBFAD
Stanza 5. DEACFB
Stanza 6. BDFECA
Stanza 7. (envoi) ECA or ACE
NOTE:
If you wish, shorten your sestina, making it a semi-sestina and writing a shorter number of stanzas and ending where you feel a natural end to your piece.
OR
Mix up your word order in whatever way you wish in stanzas subsequent to the first one, disregarding the prescribed pattern above, but preserving the repetition of words.
Use today’s form to play with language and create something unique! Below is a model from me, as well as one from one of my high school seniors, Baylee Piece. As always, feel free to write on a topic or in a form of your choice today if you have a poem that just needs to be written!
Wendy’s Poem
Hope
Upon the couch, I used to wait:
Chin resting on the back of it, the edge:
Outside, snow would fall and gently muffle
Christmas lights on the window’s ledge – I loved
to watch the colors be slowly buried, to later burn
through their blanket of white, and me on the couch.
Behind me, couched
In terms intended to protect young ears, mom’s muffled
Conversation with her mom. Young ears burned,
her tone struggling to stay light, but the terrible weight
beneath sank it – my heart – like a stone. Edgy
her words, while she waited on her love.
Across town, somewhere, love,
Shoulders sagging with terrible weight,
Sat, a lone cigarette burning
followed by another, the first muffled
out only to be followed by a second, third, couched
in a grimy ashtray on a bar’s edge.
Driving her to the edge.
to pace and wait –
And me to that couch
Where I would perch, hope muffled,
Heart aching and where I would burn
For his return, as if my thoughts could conjure love.
Baylee’s Poem
her hair is blonde,
but her weight…
that’s “too much.” her mirror
betrays her — and so do the models.
she hates her shadow;
she’s always praying to look different.
amongst the struggle to look different,
she said goodbye to blonde.
different, too, is her shadow:
constantly changing is her weight.
but she still doesn’t quite look like that one model
when she stares in her mirror.
so, she breaks the mirror —
and she starts viewing herself differently.
without the mirror, she doesn’t want the image of the model.
no, she doesn’t even want the blonde!
but she can still see her weight
in her shadow.
so, she changes the shadow.
no longer staring at her, is the reflection in the mirror,
only the shadow carries a crushing weight.
she starts doing too much; people notice the difference.
her hair goes back to blonde.
she starts to look like the model.
she becomes the model
because of the shadow.
her friend wants to be blonde —
like her; she starts gazing in her own mirror.
she wants to be different,
so she changes her own weight.
suddenly, everyone’s worried about her weight.
they’re whispering: “she looks like that model.”
in trying to look different,
she and her friend are the same. their shadows,
their stances, their hair… they can’t stop looking in the mirror.
their dresses are pink, and their hair is barbie doll blonde.
two girls: always checking their weight in their shadows.
constantly wondering if they look like models — if they need another mirror.
it’s a constant desire to look different, but the same results apply: pink and blonde.
–Baylee Pierce, Grade 12
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Thanks, Wendy, for this new-to-me form! I only had the bandwidth for a few stanzas, but it was a good reflection for me!
For hours after the final bell
I’d sit at my desk grading and planning—
Time not paid for, outside of contract.
I’d pull into the driveway after dark
Slowly shedding my non-teacher identities.
Thinking of it as an honorable sacrifice.
Was it worth the sacrifice
staying beyond the bell?
Reader, gardener, runner, and poet identifies
require time, discipline, energy and planning.
Most importantly, they shine light in the darkness
Yet I watched miserably as my skills visibly contracted.
I am worth expanding not contracting!!
My personhood is not worth the sacrifice,
So I’m trying to leave my old boundaries in the dark
after the ringing of an epiphany bell.
It has taken discipline and planning
to intentionally dedicate time to my other identities.
It took seven years to identify
that my time begins at the last bell,
a personal contract.
Rachelle,
Yes! This! I have been teaching far longer than you, but I still struggle with this. I’m trying, too. I love your message and commitment.
Rachelle, so good to hear you came to that realization. Seven years is better than a whole career, so good for you. Your semi-sestina is masterful. I love the quick story you told in three stanzas. It seems complete, no-nonsense, with those same six words working totally different from the first to the third. Super message and super execution!
Rachelle,
Yes, your time begins at the last bell. I keep telling Cara, I a not going back to school because I love family time.
I fell in love with books
when all I could do was read
with a broken leg. The library
was my space. A place to enjoy
new adventures, learn
about new interests — then share.
New info, viewpoints to share
with classmates. All from books.
This pass time I’ve found, learning
something new about myself — reading
is my escape, and enjoyment!
While friends head to the pool, I visit the library.
©Jennifer Kiwaczek September 2022
Wendy, thank you for this challenge—it truly was a challenge for me. I planned to complete a full sestina but time got away from me. So, this is my start.
Wonderful, Jennifer. What a perfect topic to write about. I like the variations in the second stanza. And this line truly says something more about you and the importance of the topic for you:
this poem mirrors my experiences and enjoyment of reading, Jennifer. I smile reading it. Thanks for sharing this gift!
Wednesday
By: Emily Yamasaki
a friendly, even chippy exchange
small talk for a Wednesday is typical
how’s your day going?
fine, always busy
the machines beep, keyboard clicks
I don’t know why the hair is standing on my neck
I turn to the side, straining my neck
silence fills the space, only held breaths exchanged
even the keyboard quiets, just one more click
nothing about this is typical
my mouth is dry, my brain is busy
how do I keep going?
time is standing still, but the seconds keep going
an invisible grip around my neck
a few nurses work outside my door, busy
we start to talk again, but a sorrowful exchange
business as usual I guess, typical?
machines are useless now, no clicks
her mouth is moving, it finally clicks
my reality catches up, time is going
a rundown of symptoms, I’m crying – typical
my hand reaches up to cradle my neck
condolences are exchanged
the waiting room is no longer too busy
a lone woman waiting there, her hands busied
she types away on her phone, click click click
she overhears my exchange
“please cancel the anatomy scan,” I go
the woman stiffens, she reaches for her belly, still neck
she knows now, this isn’t typical
one appointment- supposed to be typical
I barely found time in my schedule – so busy
my shoulders tense closer to my neck
no keyboards, phones, or machines clicking
when this news hits, nothing else goes
no one wants to have this exchange
an unexpected and unwelcome exchange
the pain is dull, ongoing
I hear no clicks
Emily, wow. I am there with you in the details and each click; yet I have so many questions. Your sestina is rich and detailed. This happened today?
I hope all is well.
Emily—the images are vivid from beginning to end. My mind is racing and wants to know the ending. Hoping everything is okay ❤️
I got a very late start and almost quit, but then the feeling to keep writing overcame me and I’m glad I’m no quitter! Wendy, thank you for the challenge today because I needed it. Your poem was full of emotion and such vivid imagery. I can relate with Bailey about body insecurities. I was never “model material” and I did not like how I looked. This phrase I felt to my core:
“her mirror betrays her — and so do the models.”. I still have body insecurities, but I’ve learned to live like I don’t. It’s not a mask, but a refocus on the inside and my personality. My body will change, but I will always be me. Your mention of Christmas made me think of the seasons. So, here goes…
I Quit Watching the Weather on Television
Another day of sky, steamy.
The air stifling, suffocating.
The same way to describe a beautiful masterpiece, breathtaking.
Moist, no wet air, humid.
What a tease, leaving the precipitation unpredictable.
Like a loogie in my face, this weather is disrespectful!
Winter will be coming soon, no hope for snow, but no actions disrespectful.
Looking forward to cozy books and sipping hot cocoa, steamy.
No “snow days” here, just “inclement weather”, so unpredictable.
Daring to check Facebook from under heated blankets, groans suffocating.
No worries about damp shirts and dripping sweat, no longer humid.
The weatherperson was right this time, a winter wonderland beautifully breathtaking!
Spring has finally emerged from its lovely cocoon, breathtaking!
Allergies flare up as flowers and grasses erupt from their dormant graves, disrespectful!
It’s still very humid!
Running hot water with a towel over my head, the room is steamy.
The only way to find relief from the beauty suffocating.
Keeping all medicines on deck, my body is unpredictable.
Back to summer again, again? It’s predictably unpredictable!
For all the bad reasons this season is breathtaking!
Loose fabrics to the rescue, I’m tired of suffocating!
Silk-out! Halter top- nope! Jeans-ha! This weather is disrespectful!
A cheap erotic moment,“ as in a sex story” steamy.
Though it never left, the weather once again is humid.
Jessica, I’m so glad you hung in there! Fun weather poem. I guess you don’t need to watch the weather–you wrote it yourself. Just a thought. You could finish off this poem with an autumn stanza after the first intro stanza, and then add a concluding stanza about weather in general. Where are you again? Mostly humid–argh!
“Like a loogie in my face” – Wow! What a graphic image!
This line is perfection:
Denise, I’m in Arkansas. Thank you for the suggestions because I really did think about that, but I was tired, lol! I always save my poems from these Open Writes, so I will definitely consider revising!
This was a huge challenge. I’m not completely happy with the flow, but it was therapeutic to write about my own idiocy. I have two slices across the tip of my right middle finger–semi-deep. I’m lucky I still have my finger. Ouch.
Sometimes we do something on accident
A thing we’d never do if we’d been aware
Just when we think we’ve become careful
Our attention is diverted and we slip up
Yesterday was one of these dire days
And I nearly cut off a finger being distracted
How can you prevent yourself from being distracted?
Doing something that has never caused an accident
But then the false security runs out of days
And despite my belief that I am still aware
My thoughts become muddled and I screw up
How can I maintain concentration and be careful?
Does your mind preview your lapse of being careful?
Mine gave me a sneak peak of the cost of distraction
Running an electric hedge trimmer around and up
The shrubs with alacrity before the bloody accident
And the blades hit my visceral reaction unaware
That of all the predictions this would be the day.
I can dooms-dream catastrophe for days and days
But it never comes to pass because I am careful
I try with all my might to push it away and be aware
Not giving the anxiety the chance to be distracted
But this was the hour of a foretold accident
And no amount of precaution was enough to wake up
I was trimming a branch and looking off and up
Enjoying the weather we hadn’t had for days
When the dreams manifested into an accident
My mind floating off and away from being careful
A sliced finger the price of being so distracted
The pain hitting before I was really even aware
Running in the house I made my son aware
He was playing a video game and leaped up
I am grateful he was not inordinately distracted
As he sometimes is when he plays for days
With my hand full of blood he was careful
To help me recover from my stupid accident
It was a silly and unfortunate accident
That will make me ever more careful
For the remainder of all my living days
You ask really important questions, Cara! Whenever I’m driving on the interstate, I think about how easily and innocently some accidents happen—it’s terrifying!
Cara, wow. I’m glad you have all your fingers still. You told this story well.
I like these lines…
I’m Monday tired and
a sestina the brass ring
eluding my grasp
I felt all of this Mo!!!! “Monday tired”. It’s funny because I have weekly zooms and the host is asking do we have “Monday passion”. I was ready to respond, but he didn’t ask. I was going to say “I actually have it, but trying not to lose it.” Welp!
Mo, I’m really sure! I know how busy you are these days, and I’m so glad you came. Love the image of not being able to grab the sestina brass ring. “Monday tired” says it all to those who know.
Hi Wendy,
I read your prompt and poem this morning and the intimidation of the Sestina taunted me all day. Your poem speaks to my heart because I once held those thoughts that I hoped would bring my father home to love my mother again. The way you crafted each stanza show such mastery and talent! I need a lesson!
Instead of giving up today on the Sestina, I spoke some lines into my phone notes to get at least a start on my way home from school. I wrote three stanzas and stopped there because I am still not feeling ready for the full Sestina.
My topic is leadership because I am in year two with a new principal who is struggling. I hate to vent but my poem went “venty” for a bit. LOL.
a. skills
b. intention
c. plan
d. connect
e. self-reflection
f. vision
Being an effective principal requires leadership skills
Responding to emails warrant intention
Conducting successful professional developments necessitate a plan
Visiting classrooms shows a desire to connect
Building trust includes self-reflection
Cultivating a caring community demands attention to our vision
I thrive on achieving my life’s goals and vision
Pushing past my weaknesses and building my skills
On hard days, my journal holds space for self-reflection
Write it, speak it, and set a new intention
Tomorrow offers more chances to connect
Trusting it will always work according to plan
But as long as you bypass self-reflection
Your work will never match God’s plan
Every morning you must set intention
Write and TAKE the steps to achieve your vision
Admit when you lack strength or skills
And don’t be afraid to smile and connect
© Stacey L. Joy, September 19, 2022
Oh that worked out well, Stacey. One must always self-reflect to be successful. The last stanza is wisdom.
I’m glad you committed and wrote this, Stacey. I think we are living parallel school lives!
I can’t stand it. It’s awful! Hang in there!!
Ditto, Stacey. Acknowledging what moves you is key to moving in the direction of fulfilling goals. Few folks, however, are ready to admit they are weak. With this self-reflection and acknowledgment of a need for God in your life, you will have more success than others ever imagined you would. And you’ll be able to tell them why…Who!
Thanks! I was referring to what my principal NEEDS to do in Stanza 3. She has a long way to go.
Stacey, I believe this was not really a vent, but some gospel truth! Full transparency: I’m year 2 at a new district and I’m starting to see the cracks in my administration. Fortunately for me, I’m assigned by the district to this particular building, but I’m not on that campus and the principal is not my boss! Unfortunately, my daughter is and the principal is on my “not so happy” list as a parent. I really want to send this stanza to her:
“But as long as you bypass self-reflection
Your work will never match God’s plan
Every morning you must set intention
Write and TAKE the steps to achieve your vision
Admit when you lack strength or skills
And don’t be afraid to smile and connect”
Thank you for your thoughts!
Great job, Stacey! It’s a healthy and lovely act to write a poem for venting feelings. Self-reflection and intention. Very wise words.
Thank you for this challenge, Wendy, and the beautiful examples. Here’s my short version of a sestina.
Letting Go
I used to be part of a circle
Our bonds were never meant to break
But many years I spent wondering and wanting
Something closer to love
I felt trapped in a fake family, an unfortunate mistake
I look back laughing and crying over years of waste
It was wrong on many levels — so broken
Complicated by superficial friendships, efforts wasted
Angrily I slipped away unnoticed from the toxic circle
How could I have been so mistaken?
My soul is now resting in the freedom it desperately wanted
Clinging to the one thing that matters—love
Letting it heal my brokenness
I tell myself leaving was no mistake
Wow, Nancy. This is powerful. It sounds like you made it through some tough days, but made the right choice for happiness.
Nancy, I concur with Mo. This poem is a triumphant song of victory mainly because you admit the choices that held you back and recognize the true solution to most issues – love. With that and the power of you know Who, you will continue to develop confidence that moving away for toxicity is healthy for you. Onward, Sister!
Wendy, I love the challenge of sestina! I have played with this form on my own, with very little success. Thanks for making it happen again! Today, I started with the last three lines – a quote I love by Rainer Maria Rilke, and then wove in a bit of storytelling. Hope this works!
Be patient toward all – a sestina about meeting a stranger in a D.C. park
There at a city park I knew not at all,
and behind schedule to boot, I parked impatiently
and stepped out. He spun up, said HEY!, startling my heart;
where he came from, vexxed me, confused me, unsolved
Watcha doing? Who are you? His torrent of questions
began; I challenged myself to respond with love.
Yes, my personal goal, to show “the stranger” love
rather than lead with fear, try to be open to all;
but within myself, appeared a flood of questions –
how do I make time for this or offer patience?
finding my granddaughter is priority one and unsolved
only this will settle my heart
He said, “The name’s Karim, this here’s my park, my heart
Chuck Brown played here, music I love
What brings you round? What can I help solve?
I know everything about this place, I know it all”
From his perspective, I was the one out of place; patiently,
gently, he was quizzing me, questioning
Ahead at the playscape, no children, a scared feeling and questions
“My granddaughter’s supposed to be here, my sweetie, my heart”
I walked along briskly, trying to stay patient
He stays close on his bike and assures, “We’ll find her, love;
It’s the safest neighborhood in D.C., safest of all”
Honestly, I was in two places at once, her location unsolved.
Where’s her sitter? Where are the playmates? Everything’s unsolved.
I’m tagging along with a stranger, riddled with questions
If she’s not at the playground, where all
might she be? Is this the day that breaks my heart?
He soothed, down the hill, there’s a water park kids really love
Don’t worry, I gotcha, keep the faith, be patient
So we continued, he the calm doctor, me, worried patient
Happenstance odd couple with mission unsolved
Up, down, around, across the field, together, until I found my love
Why I trusted this guy, I suppose that’s a question
I tell you, it made sense at the time to open my heart
I smile now at his words, “I’m my brother’s keeper, that’s all”
“Be patient toward all
that is unsolved in your heart
and try to love the questions
themselves.”
Rainer Maria Rilke
Wow, Maureen. Your story fits beautifully with the Rilke quote. What would our world be like if we all took a few moments with someone before rushing to conclusions?
This event would have really unglued me with fear. Your poem is an inspiration to let love guide us through all.
Maureen, what a beautiful story you have woven here about this charming stranger. I love the comforting conversation he has with you. This is an interesting line about an interesting situation:
I love what you did there with patient–“ he the calm doctor, me, worried patient”
A lovely feel-good story poem!
Tropical Fruit salad
Colorful, juicy cubes
From fields of tangy smells
Delivered in their own world, they ripen
Joined together in the melee of a salad
Tossed around to be part of a full diet
Twirling colors that make the dance complete
Where fields lie complete
Lumps that seem like cubes
Presented to enhance any diet
Wielding a congregation of smells
Mangled and cajoled to form a salad
Hoping the greens and reds are ripened
Thanks Wendy, I had to give this style a go, as I gave up the last time I had to write a similar poem. I feel I can keep working on the words to make it more meaningful.
Juliette,
Thanks for this. I love your vivid imagery that makes the language pop — reading this made me hungry! And I’m glad you persevered. 🙂
This is a delicious start to a sestina! I love the many sensory words about fruits and how they grow – and I especially like the line, “Mangled and cajoled to form a salad”
Juliette, your title grabbed me just now as I am making dinner. I especially like the “twirling colors that make the dance complete.” I also get a feel of the salad being tossed.
Wendy, I couldn’t resist writing about my children. They’ve each followed their “dream” and my husband are so proud of the smart, compassionate people they became as adults. And to show I’m not bragging, I only wrote two stanzas. I could go on, and on, and on, and …
Bashful Boasting, Not Bragging
My three children make me proud
I owe it all to my parents
They encouraged us to do our best , but not boast
But how can your resist when your kids are so smart
What a blessing to have compassionate offspring
Yes, I know they each are a Godsend
Proud I am because they show what we owe to our
Parents who urged us to be our best, but not
Boast about it. I can’t help proclaiming my kids are
Smart. They’re a gift to our family and world
Offspring who are kind and compassionate are a
Godsend for which I am grateful.
You have so much to be proud of and I’m sure they feel the same about you! This is beautiful and I hope you share it with them.
?
Oh, I love that photo…what a perfect illustration of the gift, the Godsend. Beautiful.
Anna, what a lovely family you have! Thanks so much for sharing a picture! And I love the spin that you gave this semi-stina by placing the words at the beginning of your second stanza — very cool and unexpected. 🙂
I love the six words you chose, and, yes, you have every reason to be so, so proud! I love the two “Godsend” lines, especially – the compliment of “Yes, I know they each are a Godsend” and “Godsend for which I am grateful.” Just lovely.
Anna, that picture and your poem – what a blessing, a Godsend, are our families!
Ohh! This was quite a challenge but I loved doing it and learning this new form. Thanks.
Aging
When she was twelve she could bend
her toes, a short stretch
away before starting a long jump
and making the distance
of six feet
before she would sit
and smile.
When she was twenty still bending
swollen tummy, her toes a long stretch
over a baby inside, jumping,
anticipating the time and distance
until hearing the patter of new feet
and having no time to sit
but still smiling.
When she was fourty-five a smaller bend
too far to reach her toes and with stretching
she could make it in small jumps
with children in the distance
but never catching their feet
to gather them around her sitting
and smiling.
When she was seventy back hardly bending
but old age seemed still a stretch
as the years passed by in small jumps
knowing she was not a far distance
to being elderly with stumbling feet
and one who would rather be sitting
with maybe a dimmer smile.
Still her back kept bending
and even once in awhile she could jump
because she kept moving her feet.
This is beautifully crafted Susan, you have used the style so well, showing the progression of life. You help your reader to see what ageing does to the body. Very interesting.
Susan,
WOW. I love that you wrote a long sestina, but I especially loved the chronology and structure! You really did play on those ending words and imbued each iteration of them with completely unique meaning. LOVED THIS.
This is awesome! I love the six words you chose and how the bending and moving grows through time, poetically telling how we age…those last five words are what we all must do.
Theme: Fall
The crisp breeze on my face is a tease.
Summer training is over, racing is the new change.
Time to undress the many warm-up layers.
Trees beam with joy, oh so colorful.
Crinkles under my feet of fallen leaves.
With teammates by my side, I have hope.
Hannah, I absolutely love the descriptiveness you put into this poem! You truly captured the feeling of fall!
Hannah, I really like the imagery in your poem and how wrote about your sport as well.
Hannah,
I am struck by the contrast you paint here from summer to fall, and then you stirred in me a shift in expectations when you move from endings and fallen leaves, which typically means change, to the joy and “oh so colorful.” I see the fallen leaves and teammates as collections that give the speaker so much. “I have hope.”
Peace,
Sarah
Hannah, I love all of your sensory detail here! You really captured the flavor of fall with your images. And love the uplifting ending in the final line. Thank you for this tribute to fall!
Hannah, I can feel that crispness of fall, so welcome. I love the hope your words give me today.
The start of this with a crisp breeze on my face is wonderful and sensuous. So much like Fall. I can hear those crinkles under my feet of the fallen leaves. Good description of Fall and hope.
Oh, Hannah, I love how you mention the sport at the beginning and later return to your teammates, who bring hope. Beautiful. This line is my favorite, I think:
And I love the word “crinkles” here.
Theme: fall
Across the street, the wind scatters the leaves.
Will it be warm and sunny or cold and wet? The sun likes to tease.
It makes me a little sad when the seasons change,
My melancholy dark against a backdrop so colorful.
I perch on a bench, shivering under layers-
The sun! Though the trees will soon be bare, suddenly I have hope.
Emily, I love what you did here with the sun both teasing at the beginning and giving hope at the end. Lovely.
This line is so spectacular. I’m going to be thinking of it all day.
Emily, I like how your poem shared an emotion about fall and the words you used like melancholy or perch. Great Poem!
Emily, loved this. And I loved the tensions in it with the question in Line 2 echoed by the juxtaposed imagery and sentiments about the impending autumn. A beautiful piece!
At last summer is coming to a close, all around the environment is colorful
My feet crunch with each step I take on the falling leaves
My mind reminds me of the endless cycle of nature changing
When all the branches are nearly empty, will they return to what they once were? I hope…
The temperature is dropping and I carry myself in various layers
As the once warm sunlight shines through the trees, what a tease!
I like the sound of “through the trees, what a tease!”
What a lovely thing to do at each change of season. It’s one thing I miss about living in the four seasons.
Anna, what a sweet and warm poem. The line “As the once warm sunlight shines through the trees, what a tease!” makes me smile and chuckle.
Anna, I really liked how your poem expresses what fall is truly like and how it is a new beginning after summer.
Anna, I read this after reading Emily’s and Hannah’s above it, and I love how this became a three-stanza sestina, with three authors, and with each building on the last one! Too cool! Loved your sensory detail here with the crunching footsteps, the temperature drop, and the warm sunlight! Thanks for this. 🙂
Theme: Fall ( colorful, leaves, change, hope, tease, layers, )
Leaves changing colors
Hope teasing
Colorful layers fall from the tree
It is fall
Changing leaves
Layers of hope in the air
Tease of winter
Colorful bright colors
Lindsay, I like your variation of using the words at the beginning of these sweet short lines. My favorite line is “Layers of hope in the air”
Lindsay,
This poem offers such a lovely rhythm. The first 3 phrases, then a declarative sentence “It is fall”, then returning to the phrases of beautiful imagery. Kind of like there is a pause to reflect in between the falling phrases.
Peace,
Sarah
Lindsay, This line, “Tease of winter” shared a lot without many words.
Lindsay, loved this! Loved the “layers of hope” in the air — made me think of all the promises of autumn with its cool nights, warm fires, holidays, and family. Lovely!
Wendy,
Thank you for this prompt and for providing a student example as well. I have invited some of my undergrad students (preservice educators) to join us. We brainstormed a theme and selected the same six words. I look forward to seeing their creations and know you all will show them kindness and support as they join over the next few days.
mother nature teases us with beauty
unknown layers branch across a season
providing hope through darkness, light
colorful spontaneity sprinkles our base
leaving us barren by the end
reminding us to seize charmer in change
Stefan,
Hmmm, that last line has given me pause, an invitation to reread “reminding us to seize charmer in charge”. I love those last few sounds and the call to seize.
Peace,
Sarah
Stefani,
Aha! I read this post from the top down and was wondering about that!! I thought it was so cool when I saw the same words appearing in different iterations! Thanks for sharing this with your preservice teachers — I really hoped that they enjoyed the opportunity to write — their poems were excellent!
I love your poem. Such thought provoking lines with “unknown layers branch across a season” and “leaving us barren by the end.” I felt that this last line really captured the feel of fall, with its beautiful beginning and barren end. Thanks for this, and thanks again for sharing the prompt!
Stefani,
Such a great idea to use the same six words with your preservice educators! I am sure you’ll be in for a treat.
I adore the hope, mystery, and richness of your poem. Something about this line really hit me:
So much to enjoy in just six lines!
Stefani, thanks for coming today and bringing your students. What a gift! It was great to read all the variety that can come from six words reshuffled. “unknown layers branch across a season” and “colorful spontaneity sprinkles” and “providing hope through darkness” are some of my favorite phrases. Beautifully crafted.
Stefani, the change of summer into fall is what I’m thinking here, but I’ve read this a couple of times – – it can apply to life, to marriage and relationships, to family,…..to so, so many aspects of life.
The trees are now fading from colorful
As a warm summer leaves
Fall brings a world of change
For warmer days we hold out hope
Knowing that September days tease
We search for warmer clothes to layer.
Ella,
I am wondering how your poem feels to readers here who do not see the colors you see there. It is 100 degrees today in Oklahoma, so I get the “September days tease.” So wonderful to think of you there, and me here writing poems today of place and how both our versions of Fall are true. Two thing can be true at once.
Peace,
Sarah
Elia,
Love the clever play on “leaves” in Line 2. 🙂
Definitely holding out hope for warmer days here in the northeast…
I also loved the sound of the first line: “the trees are now fading from colorful”
Loved the peaceful vibe of this. 🙂
Ella, your poem about the teasing days of Fall and the others written today about the change in season, pulls me in both directions. On the one hand, cooler weather brings on fond holiday celebrations with family, but at the same time we, here in West Michigan, have to search for layers of clothing to keep out the cold and HOPE, as many others have written, in our area of the country that the roads won’t be too bad to gather for these anticipated holiday gatherings.
The colors of the leaves are so beautiful that they make us long for this season’s color and beauty, evening knowing what comes next. Thanks for putting into words what it “feels” like inside our heads and out on our arms during Fall in the Midwest.
Ella,
This is a perfect description of how I used to hold out hope for a little summer to come again in the fall. Thanks for sharing with us today.
Ella, that search for warmer clothes – such a simple thing, yet so powerfully felt with the promise of a fading summer into fall and winter and all the seasons of togetherness bring.
Fall
The trees changing, how colorful.
Wind rustling through the leaves.
I’m not ready for change.
But I can say I have hope.
For the time has come for layers.
But is it hot or cold out? What a tease.
Katie, your last line is awesome! Especially living in areas like Michigan where you never really know the weather until you step outside.
Katie, I agree with the last line in your poem about that is how fall is here. It is a changing season.
Oh, yes! That weather teases…how playful and serious at the same time.
Katie,
The last line of this gave me a chuckle — the way you personify fall as a “tease” is so true! I’m thinking of this week here in the northeast, when we can experience a 30-degree temperature change in one day. Loved this!
Katie, super job writing with such beautiful brevity. Yes, indeed! I lived in Michigan for a chapter of my life, and the weather–Hot? Cold? Changing constantly at these in-between season times. I remember! Your poem has reminded me again.
Wendy, I have building and remodeling on my mind these past few weeks, so I thought of nothing else. This process was so fun! It’s the second sestina I’ve written, and this one was easier, thanks to your process of choosing a topic and then six words with multiple meanings. That did help. Thanks for the challenging prompt.
Your poem is heart-wrenching and beautifully-written.
Wow. Baylee’s poem too. Thank you to her for sharing–such a powerful topic and well-chosen words made her sestina sing about this important topic.
Remodeling Life
Our home now is full of saw dust
As my sister and I design novel
Remodeling, finding solutions
From found articles. (So, few checks
Are needed.) Useful creations custom-
Made with each nail pounded.
Before this, I could barely pound
a nail, and now I have left in the dust
that person who had a custom
of letting others do the work. Novel
idea—that, at my age, I can check
my assumptions and create new solutions
Like cutting a hole through a wall, solutions
Like reusing old materials to pound
Out a new piece of cabinetry. Check.
Satisfied in learning new skills, dusting
Off my old goals of creating. A novel
Way to live and be. A new custom.
Remodeling as metaphor, a customer
Of thinking. How can my new solutions
Inform my living and thinking? A novel
Longing as I reach up and pound
Another nail amidst the flying dust.
Remodeling: House? Life? Check.
After almost a life, time to check
Up and check in–what customs
Do I keep? And which go to dust?
Time is limited, the solution:
To let go of fallacies and pound
Every good word into the novel
Life is like a mostly good novel
Each chapter written, a check
Paid for by Grace, pounds
Of grace and goodness, custom-
Fit for each person. A solution
Of spirit and hope and dust.
So, I want to check the progress of the novel
To live not according to custom, but to pound
Good life into the dust; that is, Grace’s solution
Denise, you title is powerful, I love the potential emotions that could follow. Your commas and line breaks add power to the power as well. Thank you for sharing today.
Denise, what an amazing poetic feat! Your changing use of your words is seamless. I love how this poem explores what remodeling does for you on a deeper level, changes you. Ultimately landing on “Grace’s solution.” Yes!
Denise, so good! I’m with Stefani and Margaret here. I love the multiple layers in your poem, and I really like the notion that “Life is like a mostly good novel.” (This is a great example of the sestina form, too!)
Denise,
Wow, wow, wow! My suggestion: sit back and reread this beautifulness again and again.
Your shades and layers of meaning had me rereading each stanza with renewed appreciation for the connotations, the wordplay, and the lessons learned. Loved how the structure moved from your project to your insights about life — this did everything a good sestina should, imho. You knocked it out of the ballpark! <3
Denise! This is fabulous. There is so much wisdom and reflection woven into these lines. We are remodeling, too – I can “feel” your thinking here (though it sounds as if you are doing the real work yourself and we are mostly watching it transform). Still, I totally feel as you write here –
Denise, your poem reminds me of when my parents were building our current house and brings back fond memories. I remember looking at the pit in the ground that was to be a basement, the open beams pointing toward the sky where there should be a roof, and wondering how on earth this dusty worksite could ever be a home. You grapple beautifully with the idea of rebuilding yourself as you would remodel a home; the idea of “leaving in the dust” your old self is a wonderful way to describe growth and becoming a better person. As a college student just venturing into the adult world, this gives me hope that I don’t have to know it all because I’ll grow and change as I age.
Denise, I go back to this again and again: How can my new solutions
Inform my living and thinking?
Right there in the heart of the poem — things left in the dust, things to carry forward with what time we have remaining.
This one takes your moment and gives a life lesson, and it’s powerful.
I wanted to write a sestina about how difficult writing a sestina would be but I don’t have time enough in this planning period to craft a well-thought-out poem to plot a course like Magellan to traverse and plumb this watery depth of here there be dragons or like leaving crumbs along the path, the individual words at the ends of lines, like birds on a telephone wire, but the same birds, all the same birds, and they would eat the crumbs like in that fairy tale and didn’t Elizabeth Bishop take her whole life to write and revise write and revise “One Art” and who has the time for that but isn’t it relaxing to fall into patterns we are pattern seekers anyways this kept us alive like those birds on the wire and then on the path the path that diverged in the yellow wood eating the crumbs and us losing our way until we realize that “One Art” is not a sestina but a villanelle one that has a pattern but a different pattern because all patterns are not the same which leads me to the Bishop-fish not the poem with the tremendous fish the dangling fish-lines and the rainbow rainbow rainbow but the sea monster of the 16th century which like this sestina not-sestina will haunt my dreams
_______________________
Wendy, all I can say is sorry. Lol. I had a plan. I picked my words: time, plan, sestina, key, you, help. I even had an ending: “I’ve found that I don’t write a sestina / if all goes well, the sestina writes you.” But I just couldn’t make it happen, so I changed tactics! (Your poem, though, was heartbreaking – with the “hope muffled,” “Heart aching,” and “as if my thoughts could conjure love” – and you make the form look so easy!)
Scott, this is great. I hope you will use those six words another time and write a sestina when you have more than one planning period to craft it. (I admit, when I saw your list of words, I did think, hmmm…maybe I’ll use those words!)
I love your poem and lines like:
Oops, pushed the wrong button. Lines like:
I also wanted to mention this Sestina form generator I found, for when you do find time:
http://henrycrawfordpoetry.com/Tools/Sestina
Denise, I found some more time! (Not sure it was time well spent. Lol.)
___________________________
I just don’t have the time
to write or even to plan
to write a well-thought-out sestina.
I feel like my best bet, the key
to this whole operation would be if you
knew what I was trying to do, to help
as it were, to give aid; I repeat to help
so I would have more time
to do what needs to be done: you
would already know my intentions, my plan
of attack and that would be, again, the key
to helping me write this sestina.
Look, didn’t Elizabeth Bishop’s sestina,
“One Art” take like – help
me out here, this may sound a bit offkey
but it was like her whole life, all that time
to write and revise to plan and re-plan.
That’s a lot of time, don’t you
think? Seriously, don’t you
think her life’s work should be more than one sestina?
It seems like she could have written or at least planned
to write other things…oh, wait, sorry, Google is helping
me realize that apparently, she did spend some quality time
on other poems about some tremendous fish or turkey;
That’s not quite right – her poem was about a rooster not a turkey
but you get the idea, you,
my co-pilot, my co-poet, in this endeavor, here to help me save time
by realizing that sestinas
are hard and I need a great deal of help
now more than ever because Google’s explanation
that “One Art” is not a sestina but a villanelle means I wasted your time
because I’ve found that if you don’t actually write a sestina
then it doesn’t really matter because the sestina will eventually write you.
Think of this writing time as VERY well spent. It is part of our professional duty to write poetry and in doing so actually manifest the elusive time, which you did! You made time appear for you, for us! How fantastic! I didn’t think I had time to read another poem, but look, here I am reading — and also writing a response. There’s even more time that I was sure didn’t exist. You are a miracle worker, Scott.
BRA.VO.
Woohoo! Another home run! You are so funny. I just love to read your poetry. key, off key, turkey–I laughed aloud when I got to the “rooster not a turkey, but you get the idea!” Oh my! I’m so glad you came back and wrestled the sestina for this treasure.
Scott, I love your variations on your words (the key, turkey, offkey) and that last line – – the sestina will eventually write you – – WOW! Jut wow. Your style and your own voice come through so flawlessly here. An amazing poem.
Scott,
Reading your poem made me involuntarily laugh and clap my hands in glee at the end. Loved, loved, loved it. And you referenced two of my all-time favorite poems (and do I hear Bukowski in “I’ve found that I don’t write a sestina / if all goes well, the sestina writes you”?). Your poem was like a lovely walk through fairy tale-poetry woods. 🙂
Scott, if I were still working, I doubt I would have been able to write anything for this prompt; retirement offers open hours of playing with words. I’m impressed with your wittiness above…and your ending is especially fun and poetic! I love the idea of ‘the sestina writes you.’
Wendy, thank you for hosting us today! I got up early to try to take on the challenge before school. Your sestina brings back all those feels of Christmas – what sweet memories, waiting for Christmas! I was camping over the weekend, and it rained acorns on our camper. They’d thunk, then roll down the awning. We had the best time watching the squirrels take them and run off. That’s where I got my words. Thank you for the steep challenge on a Monday morning ~ I feel ready to face the week!
What’s thumping on the camper roof? Acorns!
A sure sign of autumn~
Cozying around the campfire
The smell of smoke
Us, kicked back in our chairs
Warming our hearts, holding hands
Joining our spirits, clasping hands
As squirrels gather acorns
We watch one scamper from our chairs
In the chill air of autumn
Through the wisps of smoke
Curling up from our campfire
This marshmallow-roasting campfire
We try not to burn our hands
Our hair, clothes saturated in smoke
Burning leaves, logs, twigs, acorns
In the evening air of autumn
In our folding camp chairs
A Christmas gift from our kids, these chairs
Perfect for the campfire~
Anytime, but especially autumn
(Careful! They will pinch hands!)
Are there patterns in these acorns?
Signals in this smoke?
Early morning embers revive a flame from smoke
We reposition our chairs
Shield our heads from falling acorns
Drink our coffee by the campfire
Hot mugs warming our hands
Ahhh…..the crisp air of autumn
There is no season like autumn!
Rich with leaves and smoke
Jump in the leaves! Run, holding hands!
Nestle under blankets, side by side, in chairs!
Gather at the campfire
Under the head-pelting acorns
We plant a tiny acorn
There by the campfire
will it be an oak? We wonder, from our chairs
Kim, we see a few signs of autumn in MI already. I appreciate how you’ve written a full sestina, it is powerful, fun, and visual. Thank you for sharing today.
Thank you for sharing such a beautiful memory with all of us. I love the energy that you placed into your lines and described the scene so descriptively.
Kim, You met and, per usual :), exceeded this challenge. I loved the narrative woven throughout! (I’m still marveling at how you crafted your poem so well so it didn’t feel like I was “hitting” or anticipating those keywords as I went. Great job!)
Kim, this was wonderful! Kudos to you for tackling the full-length form. Such a beautiful, full-bodied, feast-for-the-senses picture of autumn! And love the playfulness and constant presence of the acorns, as if they were a character, themselves, in this poem. Then, in your tercet at the end, a subtle shift from the playful to a more subdued thoughtfulness — love those last lines. Beautiful job, you nailed it. 🙂
You’re a poetry machine Kim! It’s like you’re a sestina generator – pour six words in and voila! Successive stanzas for me will take DAYS. This is extraordinary; I am utterly amazed.
Kim, I love the image of raining acorns! It reminds me of camping as a little kid; I used to lay awake in our camper waiting for it to rain so I could hear the thunks on the canvas. The sensory details in your poem are very rich and I love how you draw in all five senses to place the reader in the forest with a warm mug and a blanket.
Subject: that corner
Frame
Vase
Light
Glass
Glow
Sit
A shot of Prague in a white frame
reflects painted flowers of Spain’s vase.
In the window pane, a light
hovers just below Lerici’s glass
border like Sun’s rise, set glow.
I drink it in with a sip from where I now sit.
Sarah, I really like the descriptions you used in your poem. It contained a lot of imagery and I was really able to visualize your poem
Sarah, although your imagery is effective I still want a picture of “that corner” and want to hear stories of Prague, Spain, etc.
Ah, this painting, photo, postcard? comes to life through your observations “set glow.”
Sarah, I just keep repeating — out loud — your last line: “I drink it in with a sip from where I now sit.” Such wonderful sounds!
“drink it in with a sip” is a perfect way to describe taking in these beauties.
Sarah,
I love this vivid snippet of a moment as you’re sipping. All the imagery so noticed, given value and importance as things should if we only sit still and be.
Sarah, love this sensual poem: What a gorgeous picture. <3
A gorgeous snapshot of the window – an almost-sacred noticing. I particularly love the title – it totally frames the poem!
Sarah, I love the imagery of drinking in the light! I too have a corner in my house where I like to sit in the sun to relax; your corner sounds very cozy. In just a few short lines, I get a strong sense of your love of travel and collecting memories of each place that inspires me to write about my own corner.
Sarah, what a beautiful topic for your poem today. I can picture your sweet corner with you there for quiet time. I love the sound of this line: “I drink it in with a sip from where I now sit.”
Sarah, there is such peace and beauty when the light hits the window just right and there is a sip of something to savor. Like your poem today – – something to savor.
What a challenging form that both you and Baylee have modeled well. I played around with a poem I had started in my journal, wondering if the form would free my expression. It’s still very much a work in progress.
It’s Complicated
A cat belongs on the porch.
A tree belongs in the yard.
Where did I belong?
Was I comfortable in your arms?
You held my toddler self, bandaged
my burns, rolled up my socks.
I only wanted to put on my own socks
from that perch upon the porch,
hoping love was in the bandage.
Cartwheels practiced on the yard,
flipping arm over arm
daring to belong… (to be continued)
Margaret,
Well done. I loved noticing evolution/variation of the “words” and the meaning-making happening in the arrangement — “A cat belongs on the porch” and “from that perch on the porch.” Seeing this within the stanzas and then again side-by-side is just so cool. I am seeing this form anew through your stanzas!
Sarah
Margaret, I love the imagery you added into your lines. Keep up the great work!
Amazing job with today’s prompt Margaret. I also believe that this a challenging form to follow and needed some grace with my draft. I love your line that states, “hoping love was in the bandage”, very powerful.
This is going to be a stellar poem, I know it. I like the visual of things belonging and can picture that toddler growing and daring to belong.
Those first three lines are such a great setup for the rest of the poem.
Margaret, I love this and want to read more. Searching and belonging is what I wrote about today, too. I love the phrase “daring to belong”. Thanks for this.
A magnificent start – how beautifully your lines flow, and how curious I am about what might come next!
Margaret, what an excellent beginning! I loved the nostalgic feel of this and especially loved these lines:
“from that perch upon the porch,
hoping love was in the bandage.”
…the beautiful balance of them, the echo of “perch” in “porch”…I hope that you do finish this! 🙂
Margaret, I’m so glad you began writing this. I hope the form does help you to tell the whole story you want. The first two stanzas definitely make me want to read more. “perch upon the porch” is lovely. I love the little child emerging in this poem. “daring to belong”
Wendy, What a great prompt. Full confession. I read the prompt and thought…no way. I can’t do this one before school. I’ll have to come back to this prompt later. Then, I wrote in my journal and took a peek back here, re-read, and saw Fran’s lovely entry below. I thought….hmmmmm. I could write just one stanza. So, I gave it a go. You and Baylee are excellent mentors! I hope I can achieve a full sestina as you two have done. Bravo!
Subject: Star
night
dark
far
pinpricks
wonder
Every bit of sky full of stars
reflected round my boat tonight
Even though in an ocean dark
I row toward stars, I row far
Pulling toward pinpricks
netting feasts of wonder
Linda–love how you found the “could”! This sentiment found its way into the poem with “toward” and “netting feasts of wonder.” That’s what a poem is…a net of wonder! Nice.
Linda, this is a beautiful start! Sestinas are, indeed, a challenge that need some time, and I hope that you return to your first stanza to pick up where you left off — but this is such a beautiful, imagistic beginning that is a lovely poem on its own! Sets a peaceful mood with every word. Thanks for sharing it!
Linda, I enjoyed reading from your view of the stars, it’s so beautiful. It leaves me wanting more!
STUNNING Linda – magnificent imagery. I can practically hear the starlit water lapping against the boat. I would love to see where successive stanzas take you. I will have to revisit mine…I can see it taking a good bit of time!
Wendy, I am sitting here in awe of your poem and Baylee’s. The images in each are so clear and poignant – they slice right to the heart, even as their rhythms lull. I have reread them several times and will return to read them again. Thank you both for sharing these luminous lines.
My words & semi-sestina, for now:
fabric
scissors
fall
damage
pieces
pattern
Childhood Memory
She spreads the pattern across the fabric
placing the pins. Wielding her sharpest scissors,
she cuts along the grain. The scraps fall
to the floor, haphazard collateral damage.
She will not save the pieces
or remember their wholeness, before her pattern.
Fran, what a “sharp” response to this prompt. I’m especially taken with, “collateral damage.
She will not save the pieces.” This gives your verse a distinct tone. Well done.
Fran! Denise’s prompt from Saturday has stayed with us, I think. The metaphor in this poem for memory and childhood as pieces, patterns, scraps is so moving. I am reading the “she” as a specific and collective pronoun with that very powerful “her” at the end… agency, autonomy.
Fran, your words make me feel like I’m there in the room! I love how descriptive you got in your stanza.
Fran, I like how I can picture your poem in my head wonderfully. The way you use the pronoun “she” is powerful. Great job!
Fran, this is great! There is so much here (in so few words). I love the shifting of attitude for me by the end. Your speaker has such a singularity of purpose — “spread[ing],” “placing,” “cut[ting]” — all for the sake of the pattern, not realizing the “collateral damage” or the “wholeness” of the original fabric. And the beauty of this metaphor/symbol is that, I’m assuming, is what one does when sewing to a pattern. You would have to focus on the end product and not (necessarily?) worry about the scraps as you go. Scraps are scraps for a reason. So good!
Fran,
Love the richness of meaning here and the wonderful alliteration and assonance. There was such an air of regret and even longing in the end. Well done!
Fran, the meaning runs deep in your words. Not just fabric, not just a grain, not just pieces…..so many parallels to our lives, this cutting and scraps. The beauty is the creation of the dress – I, too, remember my family seamstresses cutting away, making things. I, too, have one of my own who did not save the pieces or remember the wholeness – and that one breaks my heart. You have a way of seeing the world that doesn’t hold back – and I love that about your poetry. It reaches in and grabs my heart.